Platform 10

Yesterday for my trip to Gippsland I decided to travel by public transport. This involved cycling to our suburban train station, boarding a train to Flinders Street Station in the city, then changing to V-line for the country leg.

It was a chilly, foggy morning and all was going to plan. I knew I had 8 minutes to change at Flinders Street but which platform? Arriving there I scanned the overhead monitors, no country trains were listed so I found a railway employee at the exit and inquired … after hesitating he answered “Platform 10”. I thanked him and quickly set off.

The concourse was bright and well-lit and the entrances to the platforms clearly numbered with monitors displaying destinations and times – 1… 2… 3…4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9…. ? No platform 10. Was his information correct? With no-one else to ask I eventually found a little-old-nicely-sign-written “Platforms 10, 12 and, 13”, with an arrow pointing down some nostalgic looking stairs. With each step I descended into the darkness, I felt I was moving further back in time.

I walked out into the quiet dimness of platforms 12 and 13 disturbing some pigeons who fluttered upwards, not a soul around. Hmmm, not encouraging and a little eerie. Was I nearing Platform 9 ¾ I wondered? When had the last train pulled up at these platforms? 1962? 1963? I quickly returned upstairs to the 21st century. Where was platform 10?

Another sign told me I could get to platforms 10, 12 and 13 by a lift so I stepped inside, a little warily, but then couldn’t understand any of the symbols on the buttons and not wanting to get stuck either in the lift or in some other time zone, I left it.

Feeling a little surreal, I looked for help, some one to direct me to platform 10, and not finding anyone I decided to go beyond platform 9. I felt a little pressured for time by this stage but it was here I discovered an escalator descending to platform 10. I quickly ran down onto the open, airy platform running parallel to the Yarra River. Comfortingly, a few passengers were waiting and a little country sprinter train was pulled up so I hastened towards it ready to jump on, although still not sure whether Platform 10 was the right one for my train.

Suddenly, “Where are you going?” rang in my ears. The question came from a uniformed gentleman who must have thought it odd to see a nearly 50 year old grandmother running along (I can run quite easily though, due to my cycling!). He told me that I was on the right platform but that my train hadn’t arrived. I thanked him, still feeling part of a story book, and admired the scenery while I waited.

“Look Daddy, it’s smiling, it’s a happy train”, the little girl delightfully exclaimed as our train approached and smiling I happily boarded it. The friendly welcome, the warmth and relaxed atmosphere encompassed me as I continued my enjoyable journey through the pages of life.

Is there a platform 11? ...