Life and dearth in Britain: London

Having returned to London from the north east, it was catching the last tube home to Camden Town that taught me most. A young Ecuadorian student talked to me on the platform, her rather large boyfriend looking on with what looked like a cross between resentment and curiosity.

We were joined by a surge of tall Afro-Caribbean men, a couple of Turks, and more. By the time we boarded the tube there might have been 20 or so snapping their phone flashes to grab pictures and asking me about Obama.

I was surprised they knew who I was, that they watched Channel 4 News, and that they were so engaged.

But amid their exuberance and noise, they also seemed strangely armageddonistic. A couple of them were, to my shock, followers of David Ike. Because I cycle, I rarely use the tube. I wondered whether what I had experienced was standard fare or reserved for the last tube of the night.

The human surge that had enveloped me in the carriage moved off into Camden market. I could see that some might have felt threatened by them. I sensed they felt threatened by the world about them and the awful, rather immediate mess we have made of it.

As I turned in at 1am on Sunday morning, I wondered about the person who had died on the tracks a few hours before. I tore up the compensation form the unfortunate train company had given me for delivering me late to my destination.