An Incident That Altered My Perspective: My Train Was in an Accident – and subsequently There Was a Child Sobbing.
That instant it dawned on me I was about to die came a couple of years into my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to catch up with an old university friend who had made a new home there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and basking in the prospect of the social gathering to come, we talked incessantly as we journeyed by train from York.
We placed our luggage – full of essentials such as wine bottles and my new pair of black clogs – on the overhead rack and settled down in a snug pair of seats. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Another one sounded, now unmistakable. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like a delayed sequence. In an instant, Helen and I were standing up in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. With my head lowered, eyelids tightly closed, I anticipated the carriage to roll over and burst into flames, similar to cinematic scenes. I recall pondering our relatives and companions hearing the tragic update. That's when the sound of the little girl crying.
“It's going to be fine,” I whispered, speaking with a rasp. “It’s all over,” I murmured, primarily to calm my own nerves.
She appeared to be seven or eight, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; here was my chance to help. I made my way to where she was standing and put my arm around her. “Avoid looking back,” Helen shouted, too late. I caught sight of a man with his face covered in blood. A huge metal object had penetrated the window behind us. Afterward, we found out a driverless construction vehicle had tumbled down the embankment and smashed into our carriage, leading to the derailment.
Our carriage was stuck with its leading section elevated. Following that came of sirens and another traveler instructed me to hand the child over so he could pass her through the window, while young passengers were extracted to waiting firefighters. Not long afterward, Helen and I were also climbing out of the train window and descending via a ladder down to the rails.
Back on terra firma – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – I began trembling violently. I searched for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been using the restroom during the incident. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. One of the passengers collapsed on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – however, fortunately our wine stayed unbroken. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we made our way in a provided car to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the woman who had caused the luggage to burst. Our host was there, pale with worry. She had heard there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and made her a cup of tea while she anticipated updates.
Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we put the train crash to one side and continued with our evening plans, which featured a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. Not a single life was lost in the incident, even though several people were transported to the hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The train had been slowing to approach Leeds station, which had been the key factor in preventing major harm. Given that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to dwell on the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who changed my outlook profoundly. Looking after her and reassuring her shifted my focus outward and taught me the importance of directing attention externally in a crisis. In the decades since, I have often wondered if she recalled any details, and what a major event it had been for her.
Helen and I have stayed close for over 30 years and Pudsey has become shorthand for our capacity to handle with anything, so long as we are together. Her presence that fateful day created the sensation that I was protected from the full horror of the event. The crash also changed my perspective on various difficult situations, giving me perspective – and serving as a reminder that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is invariably an honor to age.
