Transport chaos descends on London's ECTS

AS I, AMONG THOUSANDS, emerged from the ECTS show on Earls Court, those of us that that chose the tube were informed that the whole network was down, due to some power supply problem or other.

I mean, this was the first day for at least a month that it rained. No rain in London for a whole month? Blistering, record-breaking temperatures? Not when the tube is firked, mate... You're walking: it's bound to be raining.

So, anyhow, I lingered at each and every bus stop between Earls Court and Piccadilly (count 'em). Every bus that did stop, did so about 30 metres from the official stop in order to avoid the crowds. They were too full to let people on, so only let people off. Which, off course made the foot-bound punters even more irate.

Thankfully, some twat had left a silly hat in the press office at ECTS that I picked up. I thought my boy might like it. But for a couple of miles up through Kensington towards Haymarket, the hat done me proud.

Things got even more cloudy as the evening progressed; until, finally, I found myself at Kings Cross station. The tubes had liberated themselves by now, but the trains? The trains were still a shambles.

It was on the platform that I met a family from Luton. Grandmother, father, pregnant mother, infant offspring and two adolescents - at least.

A pregnant lady and child? How had she coped with the chaos? Better than most. It seems to me that a pregnant lady will cope with anything. But her entourage was in uproar. Not only had they been travelling since 6 o'clock (it was now 11.45), they also had to go and pick up the two adolescents from the Playstation shindig happening next to ECTS in Earls Court. Sheesh! They could've given me a lift.

We were chatting as the tannoy kicked in. And, somewhat unusually at Kings Cross Thameslink, folk shut up to listen to the announcements:

"The 2*.4* service from Brighton has been further delayed an will not be in the station before 1.30am,"

One geezer lost it totally. Started bashing things; cursing his phone, cursing God - or summat. The pregnant lady smiled resignedly. I think I laughed.

So the train arrived. We filed in, in that numb state of: "Yes, it's finally happening. Shit I'm so happy. Shit a'm so angry."

I chatted with a Unix engineer. "I'm thinking of installing Linux for my parents," he said. He was happy. It was his last day in town before heading back to the Midlands - for good. "They write mail, search on Google or maybe play the odd little game. But XP still gets in their way. I think they'll get on with Linux."

Next up was John. "John Smith," he said. He'd had it.

"I've had it," he said. Eighteen years old and it was time to throw in the towel.

"Wossup," I asked.

"Hey, I got this T-Mobile bill," he said. "They said it was all inclusive in the GPRS, yeah, But I got this bill. They said download was extra, but I can't pay a 500 quid bill.

"How much?"

"547 quid. I'm off man, I'm pawning the TV/video combo and I'm off to Holland man."

"Holland?"

"Yeah, I got family there. And it's all flat. You just chill and get around on a pushbike." µ

* we still couldn't hear too well.