As I stepped onto the escalator at Euston and started to ascend from the Tube to the main station, I saw a little tableau below me. Two policemen were standing by an elderly couple, isolating them from the flowing crowd of people.
The woman was lying flat on the floor, omniously still. The man, presumably her husband, was standing looking anguished and helpless. From above I could hear beautiful singing which got louder as I was carried away from the distressed man below and towards the bustle of the main railway station.
When I emerged, there was this choir, so young and full of energy, life carrying on oblivious to the tragedy below.