This afternoon, as one might, I walked into Crewe to do a little shopping. It is not a hazardous or usually eventful journey. But I am still concerned about what I saw on my way there.
I’d crossed the road at the traffic lights where Oak Street and Wistaston Road cross Edleston Road and was near the bus lay-by when I noticed a distressed toddler approaching – or, rather, tearfully seeking his mum. As he passed me, I looked round expecting to see her, but there was no-one in sight.
The toddler carried on going, and yet still there seemed to be no sign of his parent. He kept on going, not just as far as the traffic lights, but right on almost into the middle of the road where cars and commercials were thundering past. By this time I wasn’t the only one watching.
It seemed inevitable that the little boy would get mown down by the traffic, until, from round the corner on Wistaston Road, his mum finally appeared and snatched him away from the danger. What she had been doing I don’t know.
The feeling I got from this incident was that, not only should I feel uneasy about seeing it, but should feel equally uneasy that it happened at all. Another second and everything could have been irreparably changed.