Last Week

 

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School holiday artwork on the station platform

Ugh!  All last week my body was very After Easter – meaning it kept telling me it wants to stay home, sleep in, watch tv and eat lots and lots of Easter eggs.  But we must work and I console myself that if I hadn’t gone into work I would have missed;

  • A small boy making squeaking noises to mimic the cry of the flocks of rainbow lorikeets that are feasting the gum trees around the station
  • A young man wearing bright gold sneakers and carrying a flower a la Oscar Wilde.
  • A man metal detecting on the grass nearby looking for old pennies. He found only bottle tops, squashed deodorant bottles and an American one cent piece.  “I look on it as a deep clean of the landscape,” he said.
  • A chat with young men from the Graz (Austria) boys choir
  • Lots and lots of happy school holiday kids with their parents and grandparents and stuffed animals bought at the zoo. Noisy but nice.

On the other hand if I hadn’t been at work I would not have the bruise on my lower stomach that I got from trying to help an elderly man manoeuver his scooter inside the train.  He panicked and reversed by mistake and wedged me against a railing.  Ouch!

 

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Children enjoying the Royal Park Children’s book box (some at least)

 

 

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Keys

It was only after the station door swung shut behind me that I realized I’d forgotten to bring either of my sets of keys out with me. Locked out! Not a good start to the day. Since it was still early I thought I’d got back to the Junction and get another set. It’s a lengthy process – ½ an hour out of a 6 hour shift – because the trains don’t meet up. Back at the Junction I couldn’t find the master keys and no one there knew where they were kept, so I looked through the key register and signed out something that was supposed to be the correct key.

Of course when I got back to my station it didn’t open the door. Damn!

I didn’t like to spend another ½ hour getting another set of keys so I thought I’d just hang around for an hour until the cleaner came and let me back in with his key. So I stood around helping people with tickets and directions for the next two trains getting more and more thirsty and in need of a pee, until… Eureka moment! It occurred to me that all trains drivers have the key to stations so that they can pop in and use the toilets if desperate. It’s not really o.k. to do anything that might delay a train, but I thought if I was quick…

The driver of the 1.04 was a kindly woman who was happy to help me re-open my station door and I rushed in and shoved both keys in my pockets before indulging in visit to the toilet, a nice drink of water and a spot of lunch. Adventure over with no one much noticing my inadequacies.

It was a rude shock therefore, when about an hour later Control rang. Apparently at the other end of the 1.04 train, an intoxicated man had been having an argument with his female companion who he’d proceeded to shove out onto the platform at my station. He’d been arrested at Flinders Street later.

That it should be that train of all trains!

The Control man had been viewing the CCTV footage and seen me rushing about. “Had I seen anything of the fight further up the train? Had I been scared by it?” he inquired sympathetically.
He laughed when I told him that I’d been locked out so I assumed I wasn’t in any trouble, but I felt very sorry that I was too involved in my own small drama to help a victim of domestic violence. I fear this may be the way it often happens. I can only hope since she wasn’t there when I’d come out of the station she hadn’t been too badly hurt.

I hear bells…

Yesterday a young man I usually avoid caught me talking to one of my regulars.  He’s an unusual, dare I say, unwell young person.

“Did you know that the boomgates here use Westinghouse Bells?”  He broke in breathlessly.  My regular slid off with a look of alarm while he deluged me with all kinds of technical detail about boomgate bells which, to be fair, I really didn’t know and don’t mind knowing.  Apparently they are not all the same and his superior hearing can pick out the ones that sound like church bells or much bassier like a boom box which indicates apparently modern electrical bells.  Of course now I think of it this all could be his imagination but I must make a note to listen more closely to boom gates.

On the whole I thought him improved since the last time I met him.  He looked cleaner. And last time he made lots of creepy enquiries about what I sounded like when I pee. Not good.

So does this count as a Christmas Post?  Hmm!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all my lovely subscribers.  May you all have someone to listen to you this Christmas.  And Thank you!

Two young men, two stolen pot plants and a suggestive dance

Last Saturday night two young men were arrested after dancing naked and performing a “lewd act” at Flinders Street Station, while in possession of two pot plants stolen from Melbourne Town Hall. Given that’s one of our Metro Trains in the back ground, I feel reasonably confident this isn’t a hoax.  (I’m also glad the pot plants weren’t involved in the lewdness as this would have confirmed all of Cory Bernardi’s worst fears about same sex couples)
https://www.pedestrian.tv/news/two-men-stripped-naked-rooted-flinders-st-station/
Its a station story that writes itself. The Daily Mail said [Shocking moment a couple are caught on camera having SEX in front of horrified families on a platform at Melbourne’s Flinders Street Station]
but at 11 pm even on a Saturday night it seems unlikely that many people on the platform would have been under 18.
Also it looks more like a cuddle than any particularly pelvic action.
You can even watch the video footage although be warned the ad before is longer than the footage itself.
https://www.9news.com.au/national/2017/11/27/10/03/naked-men-arrested-after-lewd-act-at-flinders-street-station.
p.s. its not the same advertiser every time. Presumably a number of companies are happy to be associated with this kind of activity.

I guess the fact that I took more time wondering what the potplants were than anything else is a sign of my advanced age.

In the cutting

Feeling rather small and ashamed today.  A member of the track cleaning crew dropped by and told me that while the trains were stopped for maintenance last night they’d taken the opportunity to clear up the couches in the cutting.  Ever since I saw those young men carrying couches up the cutting back in May I’ve been agitating to have them cleared away.  That’s because I was assuming this was a cubby house for young thugs or what we in the railways call a “shag garden”.  So I was horrified to discover that when the track crew went down there at 1.00 in the morning they found instead people sleeping in a homeless camp.  Now I hate myself for being just another authority figure persecuting the homeless who have enough problems as it is.

The Track Man told me that the homeless would probably come back.  It’s a really good place to camp if you want to be out of the wind and away from casual intruders.  I promised him I would never report those couches again at which he looked very relieved. They hate doing that kind of job and seem to have as much pity for the homeless as I do.  They’ve obviously seen way too much of it as has everyone in this time of rocketing rents.

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