Jane Routley

Trespasser on the tracks

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Not a safe place to walk

The call comes out on the radio “All trains stop.  Trespasser on the tracks” and everybody’s heart sinks.  There are several disturbed individuals, known to us all, who get a kick out of disrupting trains and who despite being banned from railway property, return again and again to trespass where they can create the most havoc.

But this is not one of them.  15 minutes later the trains start again, and railway security are lecturing a slim man out in the front of the station about the dangers of walking on the track.  Apparently, he “overstayed” last night in one of the trains, woke up in the yards and alarmed some poor train driver by walking out along the tracks this morning. The guy is let go with a warning and the trains start again.  He goes over the Woollies opposite and treats himself to a hot potato gem breakfast (I know this because he comes back to the station to eat it) I suspect the “overstay” is no accident – someone looking for a safe place to sleep.  Though it’s a mystery how he managed it.  Station staff check every carriage for sleeping bodies before the trains go into the yards and there is nowhere inside to hide.

 

 

The loaded bike

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Yesterday I was called to the front of Junction Station to investigate a man lying on the street.  I discovered two men with spanners who were dismantling a bicycle so that they could load it and a number of milk crates onto two other bicycles.  For about ½ an hour I kept intermittent watch on the complicated procedure – the jigsaw like placing and replacing of bike parts and the delicate threading of rope through the load.  It didn’t seem possible to put such a load on a bicycle.  But at last they finished and climbed on their bikes.  And rode into the station.  The main bike was so big I had to open the bypass gate for them.

“Will you fit in the lift?” I asked.

“We’ll just have to see,” shrugged the cyclists cheerfully.  They had that alternative lifestyle look and attitude.

Last I saw one of the cyclists was giving me a thumbs up from outside the lift to Platform 6

Who interrupts someone in the toilet?

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Up at 5 and at work by 6am.  Still dark.  Buses replacing trains on one of our lines.

People are complaining about the lack of toilets and, yes, one has been engaged for over ½ an hour.  Two of us bang on the door and get no response except the smell of cigarette smoke.  Given the danger of overdoses in station toilets, we take the plunge, warn the person we’re coming in and open the heavy toilet door.  Someone is sprawled across the floor face down.  Skinny bare ankles and feet.

“Oh God!” says my co-worker. “We’d better call the ambulance.”  While she’s doing that, I push open the door again to check if there’s anything I can do.  The body has rolled over into a fetal position, a single dark eye open, peering brightly out from under a coat.

“Can we help you? Do you need help?”  We call.  “Are you ok?”

There’s a cushion under the guy’s head.  He mumbles, seems to be conscious.  The situation has changed. We call off the Ambulance.  We obviously have a rough sleeper.

The station Master arrives,

“Do you need help?  You can’t sleep here.  You have to get up.”

“Go away!”

“If you don’t get out, we’ll have to call the police.”

The door slams and we stand in the corridor talking about calling the police.  A minute later the door is flung open again and the three of us, all women are confronted by this huge angry man who screams at us…

“How dare you interrupt someone in the toilet! What sort of people are you to interrupt someone in the toilet? Don’t you know any better?”  He’s huge and he’s yelling. At me, maybe because I’m the tallest of we three smallish women. “Stop smiling.  How dare you interrupt someone in the toilet.  What kind of people do that?”  I feel a spark of terror because he’s really angry and big and it’s a small space. I call on my wireless for the ticket inspectors who are all men to come and give us back up.

The man slams the door again.

“We’re calling the cops,” says the Station Master as we retreat.  But we don’t need to. A few minutes later, the man appears cushion under his arm and stalks off towards the trains.

“What sort of people interrupt a man in the toilet?” he mutters loudly enough to be heard all the way.   Such wounded dignity.

It’s not yet dawn.  The beginning of a 9 hour shift.

Bubbles and pushchairs

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Yesterday was glorious sun after days of cold rain.

In one hour I had two very different clients in push chairs.  The first client is a regular and kinda scary.  S comes to the zoo once a week with his carer.  He hates going home from the zoo and so his trip home is always one long tantrum.  I’ve seen this before with 3 year olds but though S has the mind of a 3 year old he’s actually a large 40 year old man.  He’s strapped into the chair because he can’t walk and I must say I’m guiltily glad of it.    He swears and tries to push his carer and bangs the bins and walls. But like a toddler, he can be very sweet too.  After he told me to “fuck off” one time I turned away crossly and said I wasn’t going to be talked to like that.  He said he was sorry and looked so woebegone that I forgave him. I asked the carer why he hates going home and learned that he lives in a share house.  He has no family.  His trip to the zoo is probably the only interesting thing that happens all week.  So now I do my best to talk to him and say nice to see you.  He seems glad of the attention and the carer is glad for him to be distracted.  After they get on the train the swearing usually starts again.

The second client was a real 3 year old strapped in her pram.  Out on the platform in the sun, she set off her new bubble machine. For about 5 minutes I was surrounded by cloud of golden and rainbow-hued soap bubbles.  I could barely refrain from dancing round in them.

In which we lose customers

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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.

Little Free Libraries

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This gorgeous piece of woodwork is a copy of the old Moreland railway station created by Bob Cumming

 

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.

 

 

Bob with an earlier Little Free Library

Take a Book. Share a Book.

 

Creekman mark 2

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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.

The small effects of Climate Change

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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.

Work hard at COP27 guys.

The fabric of an ordinary day.

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Surprisingly popular redback spider toy

 

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?

 

In gratitude

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A big shout of thanks to a group of Year 12 (?) students from Bayside High School.  Last week they alerted me to the fact that someone was sitting on the tracks clearly hoping to be hit by a train.  While I let Central know to stop the trains, called the police and ambulance and kept the customers informed, a group of boys went round to the young man and talking gently to him, persuaded him off the tracks by the time the police came.

The students disappeared once the trains were running again.  The young man sat in the office with police for a while until the ambulance came.  He was only 18, had been in rehab and despaired of ever getting off drugs.  I hope those kids helped him find the will to keep fighting.  They certainly inspired me.  Great to have your help, guys!

I swear this is not how it normally is at Zoo station.  Mostly its tots and grandparents.  Its just been a bad couple of weeks.