Reflections on Thursday

I read a really interesting article today in the paper. It talked about a lot of things, one of which was how Londoners reacted to Thursday's events. On this topic, it mused about an idea regarding the morbid pleasure of collecting 'points' via the swapping of personal stories. Obviously there are 12 million people who live in London, and thankfully only a small portion of these people were involved in Thursday’s events. So the majority of stories are about friends, or friends of friends. The article suggested that if you knew someone that was on a train that got held up... 20 points. If you knew someone who saw the devastation... 40 points. If you knew someone who was on one of the three trains... 100 points. etc. etc. And as you can imagine there are lots of stories going around at the moment. The majority of which are along the lines of 'sliding doors', not being allowed out of a building or being kicked of the tube nowhere near your destination and having to walk.

And I don’t think it is necessarily a bad thing to be interested in these stories. I am the first to admit that I’m keen to hear them. I read every article on it in the papers I come across. It’s so shocking; it’s so hard to get your head around.

I’m not really sure why I'm starting this entry in this way, but I guess I'm trying to apologise and excuse the fact that you are about to hear my story. I’m loathe to be sensationalist; I don’t want to pretend that what happened to me deserves to be made a fuss of. To utilise my evolving London-speak - this isn’t an attempt to 'big myself up'. Me telling you this is a combination of wanting to make sure everyone know I’m fine, wanting to tell people what it was like ... and wanting to stop repeating myself!! :)

So here is your 40 points... :)


Thursday morning: Normal summer morning here in London... It was cold and raining. There was a bit of blockage to get on the Northern line which takes me from London Bridge straight to Euston Station - where I work. This is really normal for rush our. They often stagger letting people through the gates so that the platforms where the trains are don’t become too congested.

It was all very normal, normal- the lines were running fine. I managed to be at the front of the ‘platform crowd’ and secured myself a seat, which is always brilliant as typically I stand for a few stops until one is free. Sitting is good because I then have 20 minutes to read my book (currently House of Spirits, Isabelle Allende).

Before I go further, I will explain about the line I am on. I’m sure pictures of the tube maps have been on TV for the past few days, and if you Google 'London tube map' you can get one to follow. But for those who can’t be bothered - the Northern Line is a North/South running line (duh) which has two branches. I am on what is called the 'Bank Branch'. From home to work I head north from London Bridge. The stations I go through (in order) are Bank, Moorgate, Old Street, Angel, Kings Cross, and Euston. At most of these stations you can get off and swap onto another line. For example at Bank you can change to the Circle Line. At Kings Cross you can change for the Piccadilly line etc. etc. I don’t have to change at any (thank god! would double the time of my trip!). Ok. So I hope you understand. If not... http://www.tfl.gov.uk/tfl/tube_map.shtml

So where was I? Getting on the tube. As I sat down the first unusual announcement was made. Commuters were told that the train would not be stopping at Bank. Some people jumped off the train straight away, some decided to stay on till Moorgate, get off there and walk back. The shutting of one station is not hugely unusual - delays and stations being closed are relatively common on the London underground. The driver announced the reason for the closure was attributed to a 'Power Surge'. I now realise that Bank is the next station to Liverpool St where the first bomb went off. At this point they genuinely believed it to be a power surge - if they hadn’t there is NO WAY they would have let my train leave London Bridge.

So the packed train took off, I started reading. I must admit that for the next half an hour I paid little attention to what happened around me. I listened to the announcements, but didn’t think much of them. Why would I? Whilst I thought they were unusual, but my mind didn’t go beyond the idea of a power surge. As came into Bank station one minute later (train slowed but did not stop) it was announced that now the train would not be stopping at any station until Euston. A collective groan went through the train. So many people would have a huge walk to work and be late. The five stops that had been cut out are in the heart of the commercial district here. I was fine, Euston was my stop and I smugly even thought at some point that as we wouldn’t be stopping I would get to work 5 mins earlier!! I suspect now that the second explosion outside of Kings Cross (on the Piccadilly line) must have happened at this point.

As we were getting closer to Kings Cross station we stopped in the tunnel. We must have been about 100m from the platform I suspect. The driver announced that we would now be stopping at Kings Cross and we were just waiting for the train in front of us to leave the platform and then ALL passengers would be required to disembark (bugger! I would have to walk to work and be late!).

Still - I didn’t think much of it. Was annoyed that I was going to be late for work and possibly get in trouble. We sat in that exact spot, 100 metres from the station for about 20 mins. I just read my book. At some point it was announced that there was a further delay as they were 'evacuating people from the Piccadilly line'. Perhaps something should have tweaked with me then. But it didn’t. I just assumed that the Piccadilly line had broken down or something. It was getting hot in the train and I was getting thirsty. People around me were chatting now, all in quite good spirits, all talking about how fickle the underground can be. Soon after it was announced that two things were going to happen. Firstly that the train was going to run two emergency stops (where the train would start accelerating and then suddenly stop and that we should 'hang onto something' ) and that after that the train would then slowly move into the station and we would all have to file forward and exit onto the Kings Cross platform via the drivers caboose. (The train in front of us on the Northern Line was parked in the station. The driver could just manage to nudge the front of our train onto the platform)

I’m taking a long time to tell this, aren’t I? Doing a bit of a Ben Seamark. I guess I can afford to be detailed in that part because.. well, what came next is harder to recall in a lot of ways. My recollection of what comes next is a bit more ethereal. It’s all very surreal.

OK. So the emergency stops happened, we filed forward out of the train. I was in the last carriage so it took a while. When I stepped onto the platform, it was then that I finally realized that something was terribly wrong. The tube station was a ghost town. The lights were dimmed. The air seemed dirty. The station was filthy. And the smell. The smell was the worst. I wouldn’t know how to properly describe it, but to me it was like there was a powerful gas leak or something. At it was so strong it seared into the hair of your nasal passage, it made your eyes hurt. And it was silent. Nobody was talking. People that exited my train were just looking around staring at each other, shocked. What was going on?

To exit the platform we were herded towards a long, long escalator. Directly opposite our exit from the Northern Line was the Piccadilly Line. The smell was horrible. The escalator wasn’t working, so we had to climb them like stairs. Of the three escalators, we commuters were climbing the middle one. On the two on either side of us, Policemen and Emergency workers were running up and down carrying cases of bottled water, boxes, other stuff I don’t recall. It was so surreal. I wasn’t really taking too much in, I think. It was so eerie. So silent.

Then I rounded the top of the escalator onto the main area of Kings Cross Station. Oh Fuck. Oh Fuck. For my sake as much of yours, I’m not going to go into what I saw too much. But it was pretty nasty. Lots of hurt people. Lots of emergency workers. The mood was just… surreal. Sorry about the repetition of that word, it is all I can think of. It was chaos, but organized and calm. Lots of the nasty stuff I only glanced at or took in peripherally. I couple of things I couldn’t move my eyes away from. I made eye contact with someone who was in terrible shape. His eyes are the thing that troubles me most.

We were ushered up a second, much shorter set of escalators and into daylight. It was pretty chaotic up on street level. Huge quantities of people stood at bay behind security cordons staring in. Taking photos. I was so confused. To my left, inside the secured area the were a lot of people that had soot/ash covering their faces. They must have been on the Piccadilly line. Cameras, firemen, ambulances, media, police, helicopters, tourists, emergency workers, paramedics, sirens. So many sirens.

Im not too sure what I did next. I was a bit shocked. I just got away from what I had just seen, as quickly as possible. I started walking to work. The streets were at a standstill. Traffic was either not moving or some streets were entirely cordoned off, devoid of cars. I remember just walking down the middle of Euston road – I feat I will never be able to repeat. There were so many dazed people were walking around. Everyone was on their mobiles. Mine wouldn’t work – the network was down. I couldn’t call work. I couldn’t call Dave. I didn’t know what it was that I had just seen. I don’t think I was even thinking terrorism. I think I was thinking that there was a power surge / explosion. But then - I don’t think I was really thinking. I just wanted to get to work. Find out what had happened.

As a slightly amusing aside, after about 20 tries I miraculously got a line through to Dave. The conversation went something like:
Oh my god! I finally got through to you! I’m ok!
That’s nice
What Happened?!?!
What?
The train! Something happened to a train!
Haven’t heard.
People are hurt! Something has happened!!
Oh. That’s no good. Actually im in a meeting with Eddie so this isn’t a good time, so I’ll call you later.
Click.

I finally got to work and to my embarrassment there was a bit of a fuss as I was the last to get there. Found out what happened. I sat at my desk very quietly for most of the day. There was such uproar around me. Everyone was constantly discussing the rumors. We weren’t allowed out of the building as we were quite close to the bus incident. I tried to work, but found it really hard. I sort of felt worse and worse as the day got on. I should have said something, and I sort of tried to, but I didn’t want to make a fuss. I could have gone home, but I didn’t want to a) walk those eerie streets again and b) be by myself. I only really felt better when I got home, tuned out of the news and watched a few hours of the Simpsons.

It was quite difficult getting home. All public transport was suspended. Everyone left work early. Outside my building there was just a constant stream of people walking home all day. I know of people that walked for hours. Some had to rent hotels for the night. Some people where I worked, stayed overnight. My work somehow magically managed to get a few taxis to get me and some for my colleagues to Charring Cross where I caught the overland train home to London Bridge, so I had it pretty easy (though there was a huge crush on the train).

Such an odd day. So surreal.

Since then?
Its all good, I feel fine. And so I should, I wasn’t hurt, nobody I know was. I’ve managed to have some really good talks to people which I guess is the most important thing I can do o sort out my already easily-confused mind. Eleanor, my family and a good friend at work have been most helpful . Shenth - the friend from work offered an interesting perspective - he was in the Tsunami (one of only a handful of survivors on a Sri Lankan train where 1000+ died... that’s a 150 point story I think!!) and saw some terrible things. Though I’m embarrassed to suggest that the small thing that happened to me even compares with what happened to him.

Im reading the newspapers, its all so sad. 21 people died at Kings Cross station and an estimated 20 more bodies have not been recovered. I’m thinking a lot about their families, a lot about the unpredictability of life in general.

Friday? Well I know a lot of people didn’t go to work. And I know that a lot of others altered their plans on how they normally got to work. How do I know this? Well, there were only about 20 people on my tube. I don’t know why I thought it was important to get back on the tube the next day. It was surprisingly unnerving. I stared down London Bridge for ten minutes before I walked onto the underground... I think I just realized that getting back on was inevitable, and I might as well bite the bullet (and bugger walking for 2 hours!!).

Because life goes on.

I don’t know what to think too much about anything. I’m not too sure how to close this one. I wish I could be profound, make sense of something, offer valuable insight. I wish I could say something inspiring or heartfelt but I cant think of what… And to attempt to… well, that worries me - as something awfully cynical in my head suggests that to be triumphant, to make a fuss, to create sweeping statements... brushes aside the very real pain of the families.

There are still so many people missing.


XXX
Heather

PS. Thank you for all for the texts and emails I received in the past day or so. It’s a good feeling to have so many people that care.