When I’m travelling from Euston to go anywhere outside of London I’m always in a rush to get to the train. As soon as I arrive, I search the departures board, grab a sandwich then hurry to my seat.
But since my son moved to Birmingham last year, I’ve experienced Euston as a non-passenger, noticing everything it has to offer. There’s a the little pub upstairs, The Signal Box, a cosy place with comfy armchairs to sit and wait for an arrival. And, of course, there’s nearby Drummond Street, with its great row of Indian restaurants where a traveller can dine before leaving the city.
Today, though, I’m not doing any of that. I’m going to the station with my son Archie, as he’s heading back to uni. He doesn’t need his mum to drop him off – very much not – but I do like to accompany him, to finish off last minute chats.
“Did you remember to fill your water bottle?” (Yes).
“I sneaked some Caramel Wafers into your bag in case you get hungry – did you see?” (Yes).
“Do you need a hand carrying anything?” (Chuckle. No thanks, Mum).
He seems relaxed with very uncool me, now half his size, tagging along to squeeze every ounce out of the our time together, and take every possible cuddle his giant man’s shoulders and arms can offer.
We come out of the tube at Euston Square and walk down the road past the King of Falafel, a kiosk on Euston Road. I’ve never eaten anything from there, but when it’s open there’s always a queue.
I feel Archie’s imminent departure, that very last minute “He’s going to go” rising emotion, and I miss him even before he’s left. We get to Platform 5 early and I ask the ticket inspector if I can go on and wave my son off. He raises his eyebrows and nods in a way that says he clearly sees my mum-ness, even though I thought my acting, non-teary sunshine face was bang on point.
Archie steps into the silent carriage at the front of the train (he loves a bit of P&Q) and there’s five minutes of me standing freezing on the platform pretending I’m not cold at all, with both of us waving and me making hearts at him before the train pulls away. I watch it go right out of sight, just in case he’s still looking out the window. When the track is empty, I let one tear fall free.
Walking slowly back along the platform, I distract myself by looking around at the amazing network of connecting tracks with trains coming in and out, thousands of passengers getting on and off, each with their own story and their own assortment of emotions, all set inside travelling moments.
I look up to see an expanse of artwork on Platform 3, a brilliant piece by Manchester-based Akse P19 of the first female train driver, Karen Harrison. It’s now a permanent fixture at Euston. Head down, you could walk right past it. Don’t. It’s phenomenal. On his Instagram, the artist wrote, in 2023:
“Karen was actually given an interview in the belief she was a man. She successfully qualified as a train driver in 1979, but suffered discrimination throughout her career, with some staff refusing to work with her, and her locker being defaced.
Karen went on to campaign to improve life for women on and off the tracks, and took on various roles within Aslef, the train drivers’ union. She passed away in 2011 while studying at the University of Oxford in order to become a barrister specialising in labour law. Karen continues to inspire, encourage and educate the next generation.”
The most striking aspect of the painting is Karen’s expression – a reassuring smile. She stares out warmly from the painting, as if she has seen my face before. I can’t help but smile back at her. The caption reads: “She campaigned to improve life for women on and off the tracks.”
She’s still doing it, today: her kind female face was one I never knew I needed. I make a mental note to always visit her when saying goodbye to Archie in the future.
I head off home, past the falafel queue and think I should definitely join it next time. I walk down into Euston Square tube and wonder if Archie has eaten a Caramel Wafer yet. He surely must be hungry by now.
Julie Hamill writes novels, appears on Times Radio and does lots, lots more. Follow her on Bluesky. Support OnLondon.co.uk and its writers for just £5 a month or £50 a year and get things for your money too. Details HERE. Image of Karen Harrison mural from informative Rags Martel video.