When you’ve walked to work along streets swarming with police officers, when last night’s news has told you that London’s security threat is at a high, when flash backs to the 7/7 bombings are dominating people’s minds, well then… Then the last thing you want to happen over your lunch in Victoria station is for the lights to go off, security officials to flood in shouting and to be told that you have to evacuate the building immediately.
Welcome to my lunch.
“Yes, there’s probably been a bomb,” my brother’s friend readily asserted.
Fear flooded through my body, through my sister’s body and my brother; well he took to his Iphone, “no news on here,” “on the plus side looks like it’s going to be a free lunch!”
As if I could think about that now, this was it, soon the smoke was going to come billowing up the stationary escalator and engulf us all. This was it.
A torch shone in the distance, we were told that we didn’t need to pay (a cheer from brother), we just had to get out, and so we joined the queue (an orderly queue in the circumstances) of people trying to escape the imminent inferno.
“Phew! We’ve made it,” I said as we exited through the fire doors. “And I don’t hear any…”
Then the sirens came – attached to three formidable fire engines. The fire? Nowhere to be seen…and then, well then I had to go back into work, so if anyone knows what the hell happened at Victoria Station today, that nearly frightened me into a premature coronary, then please let me know!
Currently sweltering in The Telegraph Office – which also suffered a power cut and though the generator has got the computers back up, it hasn’t managed to resurrect the air-conditioning.