Sunday morning 9:58

Despite the cold, there’s a surprising number of people on the Sunday morning 9:58 to Frankston.

Two uniformed sailors heading perhaps to the naval base at Crib Point after a night out (this train connects with the Stony Point train);

a lady who insists on standing all the way to McKinnon, papers in her hand, perhaps revision notes, she reads them intently;

a middle-aged couple, he with an iPod, her with a book, to occupy them;

a man with a cold and a big bottle of orange juice;

a girl in a plaid warm woollen coat and dyed red hair;

and me, among others.

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4 Replies to “Sunday morning 9:58”

  1. The sailors were probably strippers in costume.

    The standing lady was possibly on stilts.

    The middle-aged couple were probably really young with prosthetics. The book was the dictionary.

    Orange juice? Sounds like a euphemism for seriously concentrated urine.

    Dyed red hair? Probably a very complex hat.

  2. What can I say, Daniel? It’s inevitable. I guess I could have launched into my belief that reading Sherlock Holmes enables one to deduce the nature of somebody on, say, public transport – but that might be a bit too conventional.

  3. I always see the timetable for the Stony Point train at Flinders Street. Must get my lazy bottom out of Briar Hill and head down there one weekend. It’s a diesel service ain’t it?

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