A funny thing happened on the way home from Cybher.

London did not behave as expected yesterday. Despite my reservations, it was delightful in the morning, light, airy and quiet and full. It reminded me of the city I lived in once that I really loved. Kings Cross, in its new, glorious sparkling form was radiant. I had a grin on my face. People smiled back. People smiled at Ben. People reached out and stroked his face. An old lady told me he was beautiful. A man on the tube engaged with him, engaged with me and chatted.

It was not the insular and unfriendly city I remembered. It was happier than where I live. It was cleaned than where I live. Hell, it had more sunshine than where I live! And despite huge worries about coping on the tube with my precious baby, I was happy, I got where I needed to (if you ignore being baffled by the apparent alteration of the Jubilee line…when did that happen?!) I met up with friends and all was good.

 

But on the way home, I realised I had somehow, through a busy day with a baby on my front, lost my ticket. So I walked the longer way back over land to the main Charing Cross station, because all the smaller, closer entrances said ticket holders only. There was a concert in Trafalgar Square and I had 3 bags and a Baby to carry and actually when I got there, I could have gone into any of the other entrances, because there weren’t barriers to stop me. But I met a couple of other Cybher ladies, identified by our bags and travelled the one stop to Leicester Square with them so it being busy and hot didn’t seem to matter. My original tube ticket was part of the lost ticket, so I had to buy another one but at least I was on my way.

But when we got off the train, it all went wrong. It was so busy and so hot and I got disorientated. I had lots of bags and I got shoved too close to the edge of the platform and panicked. Disorientated, I whirled round to try and get near a wall till it passed and I think one of the Cybher ladies spoke to me but I couldn’t remember her face or see which tube I had got off and which one I was aiming for and somehow I ended up going up and back down and on to the same platform, arriving there just in time for another train full of people. So we went round again and my head was pounding because I honestly couldn’t remember where I was trying to get to and by that time it was so busy that people had come to a stop in the tunnels and we were pinned in a crush of people with nowhere to go.

I’m not very good at small places, being underground or crowds. So this was not a very good feeling.

I felt so vulnerable. I suddenly realised that I had no one to help me, was feeling irrationally abandoned and if anything went more wrong at that point, I couldn’t do anything to protect us. Ben, no doubt sensing my anxiety levels rocketing, started to cry; by the time we got on to another hot and crowded train, he was screaming. Full on, head back, arms shaking rage and despair that I couldn’t do anything to comfort. I couldn’t feed him, I couldn’t explain it would all be okay, I couldn’t do anything.

So we both stood in the middle of the tube and sobbed, tears running down both our faces.

I never used to be like this. I used to be super capable in London. I used to be super competent at hustling my children through tricky moments and rising above it all to get us to a better place. I’m a mum. That’s what we do.

Apparently not any more.

The funny thing was though, people were kind. Someone reached out and touched my shoulder. Someone else moved so I could rest against a standing seat, another person offered me her seat. A little boy tried to calm Ben and his mum murmured ‘it’s okay, it’s okay’ while I pitifully failed to stop crying. If I’d been remotely capable of process anything at all, I would have marvelled. These were the Londoners of stories, not my recollections. Kind people. A fractional moment of humanity among fellow travellers.

I got to Kings Cross. My whole journey I had thought I would just go and buy the cheapest ticket for the slower First Capital Connect trains, having bought a fast ticket with East Coast that morning so we would have a quick journey home. Once I got to the terminal though, my head just fell to bits again. I couldn’t make sense of the departure board, the ticket offices had all moved and spying an attendant, I walked over to her and whispered

‘You have to help me.’

I really was that pathetic.

And she did. I’d managed to also lose my receipt by that point, but she took me to the ticket office and they wrote me a ticket out without any quibbling or jobs worth niggling. I can only assume I looked way too pathetic to be a fare dodger. Then she took me to a train, which was fully booked and standing room only, spoke to the guard and settled me in a free seat in first class where, after a few cups of tea and a chat with a family and a chat with a chap who, bizarrely works as a toy buyer for a large chain, life felt good enough to smile again.

Thank you East Coast for saving my sanity with fabulous customer service when you didn’t have to. People complain far more than they express gratitude but you saved my day today and your staff did you really proud.

Thank you London for being a kinder place than I remember and not taking advantage of me when I was vulnerable.

Thank you Peterborough, for still being here when I got back. I’ve never been so glad to see you.

 

  18 comments for “A funny thing happened on the way home from Cybher.

  1. May 13, 2012 at 9:13 am

    Oh Merry, sounds like you had a bit of a nightmare, but I’m so pleased people looked after you and you got home safely in the end. Nice to see in times of crisis that people are basically good people :)

  2. May 13, 2012 at 12:06 pm

    Oh no, you poor thing. So pleased that this has a happy ending. Hope it doesn’t put you off returning.

  3. May 13, 2012 at 12:20 pm

    Oh you poor love! I’m glad your fellow commuters were kind to you! I have been to London (just as a childless tourist!) and the Tube can be scary!
    xo

  4. May 13, 2012 at 12:59 pm

    OK, now I’m crying cos I’m so glad people were kind to you. x

  5. Angela Horn
    May 13, 2012 at 3:33 pm

    Sorry you had a hard time, but so pleased to hear of the wonderful customer care from the train company.
    I’ve lived in London for 20 years now and love it; I find it very child-friendly. My free-range kids seem to be indulged wherever we go, and even when I’ve come home on crowded trains in rush hour with a crying baby, I’ve never had a cross word, only offers of seats and sympathetic looks. I have breastfed publicly all over London, for over 14 years, and only once had someone complain (in the Natural History Museum, a staff member, and she soon backed off when I complained right back at her.)
    One of our Japanese lodgers commented that she’d travelled all over China, Korea, and mainland Europe alone, but it was only when she got to the UK that she found people always offered to help her with her heavy suitcase and held doors open for her. She crossed London to get from Heathrow to us, and said that she didn’t have to carry her own bags up a single Tube staircase!

  6. May 13, 2012 at 3:46 pm

    Although it must have been frightening at the time, I’m so glad that you were helped by so many people to get home.

  7. Helloitsgemma
    May 13, 2012 at 6:18 pm

    Merry, am so sorry was all so stressful. Your post made me tearful. Glad you finally got home. The kindness of strangers. Lovely to meet you yesterday.

  8. Lilly
    May 13, 2012 at 7:20 pm

    Aw brought tears to my eyes that people were so lovely – especially the little boy on the train. Aren’t people -deep down – nice? xx

  9. May 13, 2012 at 7:57 pm

    What a scary thing to soon but what a live example of human kindness also. Glad ur ok.

    XxX

  10. May 13, 2012 at 8:14 pm

    Oh that all sounds a bit stressful!

    There are some nice people left in the city (me for one!)

    It was lovely to see you and your fabulous boy with his chubby legs.

    Don’t be scared off by London we’d love to see you again.

    Mumra x

  11. Molly
    May 13, 2012 at 8:21 pm

    Sounds like a terrible tube journey, I’m not sure I’d have been as brave as you so I certainly don’t think you were “pathetic” at all. Lovely to hear of the great customer service from East Coast trains. x

  12. May 13, 2012 at 9:14 pm

    I am terrible with names and faces and found Cybher so overwhelming, but I’m glad I met you briefly and feel very lucky to have seen that gorgeous lad of yours so cute strapped in.

    London is a tough old broad but she can sometimes be very kind to those in trouble, and I’m glad she was with you.

    Lucy x x x

  13. May 13, 2012 at 9:59 pm

    I’m so sorry you had such a nightmare, but how lovely people were so kind.

    It was lovely to chat with you yesterday, and Ben is adorable. xxx

  14. May 14, 2012 at 10:22 am

    Oh, rough. So glad people were kind! And I know that panicky feeling – I think it is a side effect of trauma / grief.

  15. May 14, 2012 at 6:06 pm

    Wow your day was certainly filled with ups and downs. So sorry to hear your return journey turned into such a stressful experience. It is heartening to hear of the kind tube travellers and also the kind train staff!

    Xx tinuke

  16. May 15, 2012 at 1:23 pm

    what a yucky nightmare but glad you got home safely in the end

  17. May 16, 2012 at 2:39 pm

    Oh you poor love. I’d have been the same if i was there on my own. I find travelling incredibly scary on my own. That’s why I brought hubby. I’m so pleased you got back home safe and sound and was so pleased I got to meet you on Saturday Hugs x

  18. May 18, 2012 at 4:23 pm

    Oh bless you, so glad that people helped you and didn’t ignore you!

    I missed you at Cybher, hope to meet you at another event soon x

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