Angel of the North
We were due to go to Newcastle on the train yesterday, to have a look at the Royal Shakespeare Company’s The Tempest. So we got the tickets at York Railway Station and made our way over to platform 10 where we boarded the train.
We took our coats off and put them in the rack, got our books out and settled down for a quiet journey. Before we got to the theatre we planned to wander around The Baltic, which is the contemporary art gallery down by the river Tyne at Gateshead.
But after a few minutes the train guard announced that the train would not be leaving the station as someone along the track had thrown himself under the train in front of us and would we please leave our carriages and wait for further announcements about the fatality.
We all got back on the platform and someone said cancelling the train was an extreme reaction for a bit of blood on the tracks. That someone wasn’t me.
Most people milled around on the platform and waited for a miracle.
We went for our car and drove to Newcastle in time for the performance of the play.
On the way we called in at the Angel of the North and spent a few minutes in wonder, as a rainbow arrived at the same time: