tea tales...

August 9th 2019  Kings Cross Station - This week tea talks have been very social but the best tea of the week was drunk from a paper cup, sitting on the floor of Kings Cross station, with no way of getting home that night.

Earlier I had cycled through a major traffic junction in Battersea where the traffic lights were out, had to use the Circle and District line, then the Northern line to get to Euston because the Victoria line was out completely.  I then entered The Place to do the final class of a week of evening summer classes I had been taking.  Class allowed no time for thought other than what was taking place within the walls of the studio.  We worked with energy, passion, and a shared understanding of personal enjoyment.  On finishing class; oblivious to what had been unfolding beyond the studio walls, I threw a tracksuit over my sweaty dance clothes, thinking of a hot soak in the bath tub on arriving home.  In my own zone I strode towards Kings Cross ready for the 20.33 Leeds train, that would deposit me at my station of choice. 

On arriving at Kings Cross, it took a few moments to comprehend what was taking place.  Locked out of the station, no information, no plan, police able to tell us nothing, and the logic of not being allowed into the station not ringing true.  The only thing I did understand was there were no trains, there would be no trains that night, and I had nowhere I could go.  Thus admittance to the station to be able to simply sit and take stock, was paramount. But the police had other instructions.  Saying they were trying to evacuate the station, when they clearly were not, we were told we could find a toilet and refuge in St Pancras….hang on so there are no trains from St Pancras but they are not evacuating that station ?????????  There was no logic, no plan, and whilst to liken our situation to that of refugees or detainee’s would be inappropriate, in that moment the police, the manager of the station and those in high vis jackets, refused to acknowledge me, and all the others in the same situation, as people; as members of the public, of civil society.  We were simply treated like nonentities. 

What the police and the station manager seemed to fail to understand is the public are not fools who are unable to see the complexity of an involving emergency, they are not riotous or unreasonable by nature, they are compassionate, empathetic and resourceful.  However
when you create the wrong environment, they can become unreasonable, irrational, selfish and demanding.  What I am going to find very difficult to forgive, is the police knew that in what they were doing they were fueling a potentially unruly situation, and again in that moment, when the police woman asked me not to shout, when I was not shouting, indeed I was speaking calmly and rationally, she was trying to turn their error on me.

Thus, entrenched in that hot, black, fragrant liquid, housed in a cardboard cup, was a small but not insignificant victory.  Having resourcefully gained access to the station, purchased tea and found a place to sit, it was possible to relax, accept that the floor of the station was to be my bed for the night, be calm, and wait to see what would unfold.  It was fascinating.














August 9th 2019  Kings Cross Station - This week tea talks have been very social but the best tea of the week was drunk from a paper cup, sitting on the floor of Kings Cross station, with no way of getting home that night.

Earlier I had cycled through a major traffic junction in Battersea where the traffic lights were out, had to use the Circle and District line, then the Northern line to get to Euston because the Victoria line was out completely.  I then entered The Place to do the final class of a week of evening summer classes I had been taking.  Class allowed no time for thought other than what was taking place within the walls of the studio.  We worked with energy, passion, and a shared understanding of personal enjoyment.  On finishing class; oblivious to what had been unfolding beyond the studio walls, I threw a tracksuit over my sweaty dance clothes, thinking of a hot soak in the bath tub on arriving home.  In my own zone I strode towards Kings Cross ready for the 20.33 Leeds train, that would deposit me at my station of choice. 

On arriving at Kings Cross, it took a few moments to comprehend what was taking place.  Locked out of the station, no information, no plan, police able to tell us nothing, and the logic of not being allowed into the station not ringing true.  The only thing I did understand was there were no trains, there would be no trains that night, and I had nowhere I could go.  Thus admittance to the station to be able to simply sit and take stock, was paramount. But the police had other instructions.  Saying they were trying to evacuate the station, when they clearly were not, we were told we could find a toilet and refuge in St Pancras….hang on so there are no trains from St Pancras but they are not evacuating that station ?????????  There was no logic, no plan, and whilst to liken our situation to that of refugees or detainee’s would be inappropriate, in that moment the police, the manager of the station and those in high vis jackets, refused to acknowledge me, and all the others in the same situation, as people; as members of the public, of civil society.  We were simply treated like nonentities. 

What the police and the station manager seemed to fail to understand is the public are not fools who are unable to see the complexity of an involving emergency, they are not riotous or unreasonable by nature, they are compassionate, empathetic and resourceful.  However
when you create the wrong environment, they can become unreasonable, irrational, selfish and demanding.  What I am going to find very difficult to forgive, is the police knew that in what they were doing they were fueling a potentially unruly situation, and again in that moment, when the police woman asked me not to shout, when I was not shouting, indeed I was speaking calmly and rationally, she was trying to turn their error on me.

Thus, entrenched in that hot, black, fragrant liquid, housed in a cardboard cup, was a small but not insignificant victory.  Having resourcefully gained access to the station, purchased tea and found a place to sit, it was possible to relax, accept that the floor of the station was to be my bed for the night, be calm, and wait to see what would unfold.  It was fascinating.

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