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T it dawned on me I was about to die occurred in my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to reunite with an old university friend who had recently moved there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and reveling in the anticipation of the social gathering to come, we talked incessantly as we journeyed by train from York.

We stashed our bags – containing vital items such as wine bottles and my brand-new black clogs – on the overhead rack and made ourselves comfortable in a comfortable double seat. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. This was followed by a second, now unmistakable. A woman screamed as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like a delayed sequence. Suddenly, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. Head down, vision blocked, I expected the carriage to overturn and ignite, similar to cinematic scenes. I recall pondering our loved ones hearing the tragic update. Subsequently, there was the young girl weeping.

“You’re all right,” I murmured, speaking with a rasp. “It’s all over,” I whispered, primarily to calm my own nerves.

She appeared to be seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; this was my opportunity to be useful. I made my way to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don't turn around,” Helen shouted, the warning came after the fact. I glimpsed a man with his face covered in blood. A huge metal object had crashed through the window behind us. Later, we learned a runaway digger had tumbled down the embankment and smashed into our carriage, making the train leave the tracks.

Our carriage was stuck with its nose pointing upward. Then came the noise of sirens and a man nearby asked me to pass the little girl to him so he could assist her exit through the opening, where children were being evacuated to emergency personnel below. A few minutes later, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and descending via a ladder on to the track.

Once back on solid ground – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. My eyes scanned for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, we later learned had been in the toilet when the crash occurred. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. One of the passengers collapsed on Helen’s case, making it split apart – but, by good fortune our wine was unharmed. After a half-hour wait, we made our way in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the lady who had caused the luggage to burst. Our university friend greeted us, visibly shaken. She had heard there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and offered her a hot drink while she anticipated updates.

With the invincibility of youth, we pushed the derailment from our minds and proceeded with the social outing, which involved a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. There were no fatalities in the incident, even though several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I got away with bruises and general soreness from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The train had been slowing to enter Leeds station, which had been the crucial element in avoiding serious injury. Since nobody was badly hurt helped not to obsess over the “what ifs” but the child was the one who changed my outlook profoundly. Looking after her and soothing her distracted me from my own fear and demonstrated the importance of looking outwards in a crisis. Over the years, I have repeatedly asked myself if she remembered anything about it, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have now been friends for more than three decades and "Pudsey" is now our code word for our skill in managing with anything, provided we have each other. Having her companionship during the accident made it feel as if I was insulated from the most terrifying aspects. The accident additionally altered the way I approach various difficult situations, providing me with insight – and reminding me that, however bad things seem, it is invariably an honor to grow older.