A lady jumped in front of my train this afternoon at Wembley Park and survived.
The same cannot be said about the double macchiato that I had purchased from Caffè Nero just fifteen minutes prior to the incident.
The way she was lying on the track and the way she had her hands by her face as I went over her reminded me of a painting by Edvard Munch.
Whilst I was being treated for shock by the London Ambulance Service, a woman (with a voice suited to an odious character in Eastenders) operated a Help Point on the platform, demanding to know when her next train to King's Cross was going to be, when the station had only just been re-opened. I was in a separate room at the time, but I could hear the call go through to the station control room, and I wanted to shout at her and say, "Your next train to King's Cross has a person under it, you... [insert adjective-type expletives here]".
Apparently things like speed and time get all warped when you have a one under.
Outside of the station, the wind was blowing. It was mild. The sun was shining brightly and the sky was blue. It was such a nice day.