An Event That Changed My Perspective: My Train Was in an Accident – and then There Was a Little Girl Weeping.

The moment I knew the end was near came a couple of years into my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to visit an old university friend who had made a new home there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and reveling in the anticipation of the social gathering to come, we talked incessantly as we made our way by train from York.

We stashed our bags – containing vital items such as bottles of wine and my new pair of black clogs – in the storage compartment and made ourselves comfortable in a snug pair of seats. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. This was followed by a second, now unmistakable. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like a dreamlike pace. In an instant, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, holding each other tight. Looking down, eyes screwed shut, I waited for the carriage to roll over and burst into flames, like in the movies. I remember thinking our relatives and companions receiving the notification. Subsequently, there was the young girl weeping.

“It's going to be fine,” I whispered, speaking with a rasp. “The worst has passed,” I murmured, more to myself than her.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; now I could do something meaningful. I moved to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don't turn around,” Helen shouted, too late. I saw a man with his face covered in blood. An enormous piece of metal had smashed through the window behind us. Subsequently, we learned a uncontrolled excavator had descended the slope and into the side of the train, making the train leave the tracks.

Our carriage was stuck with its nose pointing upward. Next was the sound of sirens and a fellow passenger requested that I to hand the child over so he could assist her exit through the opening, where children were being evacuated to fire crews on standby. A few minutes later, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and climbing down a ladder onto the railway line.

Once back on solid ground – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I searched for the little girl and watched her mother gather her up, we later learned had been in the lavatory during the incident. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. One of the passengers sat down heavily on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – but, by good fortune our wine stayed unbroken. Following a 30-minute delay, we traveled in a provided car to Blackburn, with a teenage boy and the female passenger who had broken Helen’s case. Our friend was waiting, ashen-faced. She was aware there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and made her a cup of tea while she waited for news.

With the invincibility of youth, we put the train crash to one side and continued with our evening plans, which involved a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, despite the fact that several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and aches and pains from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. Our speed had been decreasing to approach Leeds station, which had been the key factor in averting grave physical damage. Given that nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to dwell on the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who changed my outlook profoundly. Looking after her and soothing her distracted me from my own fear and demonstrated the importance of looking outwards in a crisis. Over the years, I have often wondered if she had any memory of the event, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for thirty-plus years and Pudsey has become shorthand for our ability to cope whatever comes, as long as we're side by side. Being with her that day created the sensation that I was insulated from the worst of the situation. The crash also changed my method of handling various difficult situations, offering me a new viewpoint – and serving as a reminder that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is always a privilege to age.