I had just finished laying sand at the Swansea Bowlo and had loaded up my bobcat when I felt a rumble.
I thought that it was an explosion at one of the pits but when I looked behind me the bobcat tracks in the sand were gone, completely flat.
I was going to the servo when an unmarked police car pulled me over and told me to go to Belmont Police Station.
The police said I had to get to the Workers Club right away, speed if I had to and not to stop. I had no idea of what I was getting into until I saw the Workers Club.
I was there for four days, moving rubble and helping with the rescue. My wife had no idea if I was alive or dead because our phones were out.
After a couple of days, the city was eerie with nobody around except for the army and police. It was like walking into a room when the lights are off.
I still wonder about how the people inside the club coped with what they had been through, not the rescuers but the survivors.
Newcastle bounced back. People came together and supported each other but the Workers Club isn’t the centre of everything like it used to be.
Original image courtesy of Newcastle Herald