Oh dear god the misfortune. You see, we came in early to make sure that the tanks were refreshed in time for Mr Drew’s visit. We came on an early train, down from Arnos Grove on the Piccadilly line, and then onto the Hammersmith & City at King’s Cross for Great Portland Street, though by that time of course, by the time we’d reached King’s Cross I mean, Marvin wanted to be above ground again to take a bus, or even a walk, down the Euston Road. It’s only a couple of stops, and I know it’s only a couple of stops, but there’s something inevitable I find, something compulsory about being down there in the tunnels, for me I mean, once I’m in the tunnels, I don’t know what it is, I’m driven to proceed. So by the time we were on the Hammersmith & City Marvin was grumpy, which I fully understand - the walk from the southbound platform of the Piccadilly to the westbound Hammersmith & City is not a short walk, with a not insignificant number of steps, and Marvin’s knee is wrecked in this weather. Marvin was grumpy. Luckily though we were sufficiently early that the trains were not absolutely packed, and we had seats, so that Marvin could rest and rub his knee, and doubly lucky, because if we had been standing when the train screeched to a halt between Euston Square and Great Portland Street, we would surely have fallen over, like the poor gentlemen at the other end of the carriage, who was sent on an involuntary gallop towards us which he couldn’t maintain, and who ended up in a heap in one of the doorways. Marvin was immediately convinced that a bomb had gone off. He clings to terrorism as people used to cling to god - it explains everything. He was immediately fiddling with his mobile phone, trying to work out the video recording feature so that he could sell some survivor footage to Sky News. The people around us picked themselves up and moaned and cursed and looked, I have to say, more than a little concerned. As for myself I was certain that it was nothing more than a technical eccentricity of some kind and that there would shortly be an apologetic announcement and we would be on our way. Sometimes someone leans too heavily on a door and the brakes are activated.
But there has been no announcement. Nothing at all. Not yet anyway. I’m sure there’ll be one any time now. I’m not sure how long we’ve been here. It’s not too hot. Marvin’s phone has run low on battery so he’s switched it off. I see a young woman a few seats down has a bottle of water. I’m sure, if it comes to it, that she’ll share. But it’s not unbearably hot. Not yet. The strange burning smell seems to have lessened as well. Though the young man who went through the interconnecting doors towards the front of the train has not returned. Not that we could follow in any case, not with Marvin’s knee. And the lights are starting to flicker. On and off. On and off. On an off.
Much longer stuck here and we might even miss Mr Drew entirely.
