I got to work around 11.00 to be greeted with pictures of this suspicious device that had stopped the trains and caused the Junction and the nearby building site to be evacuated that morning. All in a days work on the railways.
I’ve always been a bit smug/ proud of the fact that the brother of my Great Great Grandfather was transported for theft in the 1820’s, made good brewing beer and sent for the rest of the family, including my direct ancestor in the 1830’s.
The other day I was talking to one of my regulars who I’ve dubbed the Bolshie Lawyer. This a very casually dressed man who does legal aid cases. He comes from a very privileged background where he went to Melbourne Grammar, Melbourne Uni and was probably put down for membership of the Melbourne Club and the MCC the day he was born. He has the jaded view of the Melbourne upper classes that comes from long familiarity and we were discussing a well-known local politician.
“I was at school with him and he was a (insert uncomplimentary noun here) even then. So full of himself and his family. And mines been out here much longer than his.”
I couldn’t help bringing up my own ancestor then and the date 1824.
“That’s nothing,” said B.L. “My ancestor was a free settler and came out in 1810.”
That was when I asked him the surname and discovered his ancestor has a suburb and a railway station named after him and had built what is a now National Trust property. Definitely outclassed. Serves me right for such unearned pride.
And we must always remember our pioneer ancestors helped steal the land and destroy the tribes. So is it pride or shame we should feel? Or a complicated ambivalent mix of both that turns us away from the past entirely and reminds us to try and do better in the future.
A large heavy set man is vaping in front of the station. Did you hear the one about the about the woman who bought a Koala he says suddenly to a small Asian lady wheeling a pram up the ramp. From her startled reaction she has no idea who he is. She found it on Gumtree he continues, mystifying her even further. I go out to break the ice. That’s a terrible pun I tell him. I’ve got millions of them, he says. And proceeds to tell me them continuously till the train comes 10 minutes later. The relieved pram pushing lady escapes to the platform. She’s worked out he was trying to tell her a joke but really when someone three times your size lunges at you out of the blue its understandably unnerving. Its certainly socially inept on the part of the man. Some may see this as a sacrifice on my part, but actually I have a terrible weakness for bad puns such as Why are drivers good at driving locomatives? Becasue they’ve been trained. So I guess my laughing will do nothing to persude the man not to do it again.
It’s over 37 degrees and muggy. Cicadas are screaming in the trees outside. A family, mum and 5 kids, stagger into the waiting room, red-faced and sweating, and collapse on the seats. At first they take the news that their train has just left with equanimity
Unfortunately Shouty Man has got off the train they just missed. Shouty Man is a heavily built 40 something man who walks around angrily shouting f*** off you ugly C*** and other such abuse at no one in particular. He’s a regular. He seems to be harmless. But he’s scary enough that I’ve had tradesmen get ready to protect me from him. As he strides through the waiting room furiously swearing and telling people to F*** off it’s hard not to take it personally. He makes it worse by slamming his fist on the telephone kiosk as he goes out the door.
“I’m never coming by public transport again,” breathes the mother.
Can’t say I blame her.
Public transport is one place where the fortunate come into contact with the less fortunate.
This week I met T and his mum, C. C was a lovely chatty woman in a leopard skin jumpsuit with bright blonde hair who stopped outside the station for a post-zoo smoke. Her son T stood against the wall nearby. He was a smiling visually disabled man. Possibly he was intellectually disabled too although he may just have had a puckish sense of humor. He started singing in a pleasant tuneful voice and when he got to the part about hopping he jumped up and down.
“Now he knows he’s got an audience he won’t stop,” said C cheerily. “There’s a spider monkey in the zoo he always sings to. It loves it. Comes right up to him.”
That and the Carousel were apparently his favorite zoo things.
The other singer this week was an 8 year old girl in glasses and a blue dress who started singing “Twinkle twinkle little star,” while her mother tried to work out the ticket machine. Was it the weather that bought out this tunefulness? It IS finally summer.
A torrid hour at the junction when we have a signal failure affecting several lines. The people on the C line are told leave Platform 2 for Platform 6 and after 15 minutes told to go to Platform 4. 3 trains worth crowd onto the 1 train. They are understandably pissed off when they are told the train won’t be going down the C line. I try to answer people’s questions, but I don’t know much. It’s no one’s fault. Control are moving what trains they can when they can and it’s all very spur of the moment. A drunk decides this is a good time to try and pick up one of my colleagues with revolting hip wiggles and leering. We chase him off telling him we’re just too busy.
Everyone is mad. I get in the lift and am hit by a wall of angry testosterone. An African couple – wife in hijab and a Bogan couple are facing off in the tiny crowded space. I’m sure the Bogan couple have said something nasty to the African couple but at this point the Bogans are the ones offended. “That’s not very nice to call us Junkies” they cry. It’s a fair complaint. They stink of alcohol, not drugs. It’s a long tense 30 second ride and everyone gets out of the lift as fast as they can at the top
Local resident Bob Cumming first introduced Little Free Libraries into the area back in 2014. Its great if you forget to bring something to read on the train. These days I and lots of other people stroll to the station to see what’s in this beautiful library. I try not to take anything home but I usually fail. Oh well. There are worse things than having too many books. During Covid lockdown Bob built this beautiful tribute to the old station which has since been replaced by grey concrete. Thank you so much for this and all the other things you do Bob.
Creekman has been replaced by a tall cheerful Maori New Zealander in his early thirties who always wears dark glasses. He says he’s met Creekman and gained permission to use his camping site down by the creek. (I have a feeling there is a protocol among the rough sleepers over campsites) He’s hoping to get a place when he makes enough money from casual construction but till then he says likes camping out in the fresh air and near the sound of water. He bustles about with great verve. He comes for a regular wash up in my toilets but he’s very neat and organized about it. When his welfare payments come in he celebrates by having a BBQ.. We had a discussion about Bonds underpants yesterday. Apparently they chafe. Sort yourself out Bonds.
A day of sheeting rain. Now the trains are not stopping at Essendon Station, because the only way out of the historical station is a subway which is now flooded. Not sure how the staff manage to get out. This means that if you’ve parked there you have to go to one of the stations on either side and walk 20 minutes. All over Melbourne and the rest of the East coast of Australia there is flooding due to the excessive amounts of rain and this is just one very small effect.
Just in case people think my whole railway working life is spent dealing with the mentally troubled, I feel I need to emphasize I spend most of my time talking to little kids and their parents/grandparents.
Every day I hear, “S/he enjoyed the train trip more than the zoo.”
“His/her parents are working so I look after him once/twice week.”
And “Look!” (as child holds up the plush animal they have bought in the zoo)
It’s important to look shocked if the child has bought a snake or redback spider toy.
Suggesting they wave at the train driver as they come in, is a good way to distract someone who’s very tired or doesn’t want to get into their pram. Most of the drivers seem to enjoy this too.
Because face facts, little kids are cute, (mostly).
I really enjoy this aspect of my work.
One of my favorite things is to watch a child snuggle into the side of the adult who is reading to them. (I’m an ex-librarian, what can I say?) Before Covid I had a box of children’s books in the waiting room just for this but I put them away in case they were a vector of disease. I’m not sure whether to put them back out yet. Does anyone have any thoughts about this?