There is a nasty app on Facebook that predicts (humorously) when and how you will die. It told me I would be eaten by cannibals at the age of 103! However, the poor person that gave me such a terrible time on the Tube today can't have used that app or they would never have ventured out.
I had an appointment with an estate agent to see three houses at 12.30. I left two hours to do the hour and a half journey. Got to Kings Cross on the Met with no trouble. Was too early so went to Accessorize and bought an extra Christmas present, then headed for the Piccadilly Line. A train came, I got on. An announcement came, we all got off. Someone had been taken ill on a train further up the line. The platform got more and more crowded. I decided to go two stops further towards my destination on the Victoria Line. As I headed towards the exit, I overheard a lady talking to a member of the Undergound staff. "What happened?" she asked. "Somebody had a heart attack," said the member of staff. "Did they die?" asked the lady. Now come on, did she really have to ask that? "Yes," was the reply.
I completed my journey by Tube and overground train and was only fifteen minutes late, but all the journey I was thinking how ghastly it would be to die in a hot, crowded Underground train in front of all those people. To be struck by an agonising heart attack, crying out, clutching your chest, collapsing, in front of strangers, all at a loss as to what to do, all not knowing how to help, all shocked. With children maybe, asking questions. "Mummy, what's wrong with that man/woman?" Dying is bad enough anyway, though we all have to do it. But dying in public on a train? Give me the cannibals any time. But... that poor person. Just before Christmas, too. I feel so sad for them and their family, and wish I hadn't overheard that conversation.
And, for the record, the houses were awful, it rained and I wished I hadn't gone out at all!
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4 comments:
I suppose dying in your sleep is the 'best' way to go, though rather shocking for anyone who wakes up next to your cold corpse. Sadly, one can't expect to live forever or to choose the manner of one's going. (Some exceptions granted for the latter part of that statement.)
Sorry the houses were rubbish. I'm sure the right one for you will come along soon. (The one next-door to me is for sale!)
What an impact on your day. Pray for that person. If you don't pray, send loving thoughts to their family.
Believe it or not, that is possibly very close to what happened when my father died. He was only 53, on a business trip to London, on his way to go to Heathrow airport when he became ill. Our understanding is that he managed to get off the train, collapsed and died on the platform. We knew that something was wrong when he didn't appear home at the usual time, but it was several hours later before the police arrived to inform us of his death. I was only 21 at the time, alone in the house with my mother and it fell to me to tell her the news. It was such a huge shock and it took years before I could process the idea that he was dead.
My mother was terribly worried by the thought that he might have been suffering and have just been ignored by the people on the underground. We found out later that it was not the case and that he had been attended to very quickly. It will be 30 years next year since he died but the memories have flashed back into sharp focus.
Oh Haz, how terrible! Your poor, poor father. So young, too. Jac, that's precisely what happened to my mum in '96. She went to bed one night and never woke up again. Awful shock for us, but good for her.
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