All of us had somewhere we were meant to be. I was taking my five-year-old daughter to see The Nutcracker, others had just landed from Heathrow.
When the train stopped and a voice on the tannoy said there was an electrical fault we thought little of it. But more details, in unwelcome shards, appeared, that an electrical cable had fallen on a train in front and another train had had an emergency in Hounslow.
The lovely girl in front of me on her way to a date started to cry because she needed the loo. Babies were crying everywhere, someone fainted.
After an hour the driver said we could go to the toilet on the tracks if we needed to, jumping off the high gap at the front of the train. People were passing babies and helping elderly women down on to the tracks. Obviously, because this is London the mood was upbeat and collegiate. Someone started to play It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas on their laptop and we all sang along.
The main feeling though was of utter abandonment. The driver and electrician on the train while helpful seemed completely out of their depth and were desperately trying to get hold of people at TfL to ask them what they should do. Hours went by.
In the end there was a bit of a revolt and people just started lowering themselves down onto the tracks and saying they were going. The driver said he could have evacuated us hours before if only he could have reached someone in management to give him permission.
A very low point for TfL and London’s most exciting new train line.
