It was with a sense of foreboding that I stepped onto the East Coast express train at Darlington station a few days ago.

I don't mind visiting London as a tourist but I detest having to go to there on business. This trip would remind me exactly why and how lack of communication can bring people to breaking point.

As is usually the case, the train journey was fine and we pulled into Kings Cross bang on time at noon, which left me an hour and a half to get to Westminster where I was due to speak to the Institute of Economic Affairs.

The first hiccup came at Kings Cross tube station. No information or announcement, just a creeping awareness that no tubes were coming in and staff were gradually pushing the hordes back towards the exits.

Visible armed police patrols and the large concrete blocks that now surround Parliament are clear signs that London is outwardly prepared for terrorist attacks. What is lacking is any sort of co-ordinated strategy for moving large masses of people swiftly and safely if one route closes down.

Normally, I would walk the three miles but I had a heavy bag and all the taxis had been taken so I headed for Euston and got on a tube. One stop later and we were informed the desination had been changed and it wouldn't now be going to Westminster as scheduled.

Everyone disembarked and I headed for the surface.

At least from London cabbies you get straightforward information. They told me that traffic congestion meant it would take two and a half hours to drive to Westminster - as long as it had taken to get from Darlington to London.

Two miles to go and 20 minutes to get there. I rang the IEA to explain where I was, biting my lip as they asked "why don't you get a taxi?''

The man promised to get someone to ring me back to give me directions so I could walk. A few minutes later the mobile rang. The woman hadn't been briefed. "Why don't you get a taxi?'' she asked.

I walked to Park Lane and then rang back for further directions. A different woman this time: "Why don't you get a taxi?'' she asked and the line went dead.

I crossed the road, and rang the IEA. "It's Ray Mallon here''. After a pause another voice answered: "You're supposed to be here, can you get a taxi?''

The clock had defeated me and I turned to head back to Kings Cross without ever reaching the IEA. The played a video recording to the invited guests of the Trouble at the Top documentary I recently featured in.

Fuming, I walked into Marks & Spencer for a quick wash. I followed the directions for the toilets into the far corner of the basement to be greeted by a sign on the door "Out of Use". A snake of people was treading the path down two flights of steps just as I had done. Did no member of staff think to put a "toilet out of order" warning on the store directions?

Back on the train and the mobile cuts out every 30 seconds or so as someone tries to relay information about a police investigation into the disappearing Mayoral chain.

Finally, the best bit of communication all day: "The train is now approaching Darlington station.''