Wild ride home - danger in the air on the trains

A few months ago, works were undertaken at Seddon train station in the inner west of Melbourne. One of the undercover seats was removed and a room was renovated. An airconditioner was installed. Signs designating the area as being for "staff only" were hung. I waited to see who it was for. Weeks turned into months and there was no sign of anyone until a few weeks ago, two Protective Service Officers were standing out on the platform on a cold winter's night. They had just started that night and would be there every night from 6pm until the last train.

It's a good move actually. Seddon is very quiet and the streets around the station are deserted at night. I've often felt very alone and wondered what would happen if something happened. I always greet them whenever I see them and it feels like they're becoming part of the community.

Coming home from the Melbourne International Film Festival the other night, I boarded a train with my friend and immediately felt like we'd chosen the wrong carriage. Two men were in a heated, loud argument with each other. The argument was verbal only, but aggression was in the air and I was glad to be sitting quite apart from them. A banner on the wall of the train advertised "anti-hate spray". It felt like I could do with a can in my handbag. We stopped at North Melbourne station and then the train sat for longer than usual. The argument continued to rage and we struggled to hear the announcement from the driver that we were stuck for a while because of a police operation at the next station (South Kensington).

Announcements came reasonably frequently. The driver sounded more and more frustrated as the announcements turned into statements about how nothing had changed and we were still stuck. It sounded like he had a lamb roast waiting for him at home and this was the third time this week he was going to be late. Meanwhile, the two men continued to rage against each other. My friend and I talked and swapped notes on unlocking the mysteries of our iPhones.

Soon I noticed sitting at the other end of the carriage a woman who looked deeply distressed. She was quiet, but rolling her head back, wringing her hands and seemed to be inside her own head. Her face betrayed deep pain.

I couldn't stand it any longer and decided to move to another carriage. The aggression and distress in the air was starting to get to me. We moved forward one carriage. Before long, there was yelling and a woman screaming uncontrollably, coming from the carriage we had left. I wondered where the PSO's were. They arrived on the scene shortly. It was interesting to see how they worked. There were four of them, one took the lead to engage with one of the people and the others stood around, close enough, but far enough. I didn't hear what happened, but I was pleased that people were on hand to assist and diffuse. I was glad I had changed carriages.

When I arrived back at Seddon station, there were the PSO's waiting on the platform. I hope they never have to do anything. I think just their presence should be enough to make sure they don't. I hope the people yelling and crying got the help they needed.

Yo-yo

While I was out walking this afternoon, I passed one of the houses I usually pass.  It is an ordinary looking cottage with a tiny front yard.  The verandah is cluttered with ornaments, furniture and potted plants.  Wind chimes hang at regular intervals, their music ringing out in response to the wind.  The front door is painted a vivid, glossy red, in contrast to the pale blue of the rest of the house.

There was a woman in the front yard.  She looked to be about 60 years old and was Asian.  I assume Chinese because of the red front door.  She was in the front yard playing with a yo-yo!  She was grinning wildly as she left the routine of up and down and tried for an around the world loop.

I said hello and she greeted me enthusiastically.

She was well dressed for her afternoon yo-yo work out:  neat tracksuit pants, teamed with coordinated polo shirt, tennis visor and bright white running shoes.  On her face she wore what appeared to be safety glasses, like these but with a lime green frame, instead of the black.

Safety when playing with a yo-yo hadn't been a big consideration for me in the past.  My main focus then had been not suffering punishment for inadvertently breaking the Royal Doulton with a wayward trick when doing the forbidden and playing inside, or being walloped by a sibling's yo-yo when they were doing something crazy, or having the loop on the string too loose and hitting myself in the face when the yo-yo flew off.

As I contemplated these hazards, the 60 year old Chinese woman looked like she had failed to consider deeply enough her safety when dressing for her yo-yo session.  She needed a full face shield, not just safety glasses.  Elbow pads and knee guards would be a good idea too.  They would save her joints when she had to dive to get out of the way of her own yo-yo.  And you never know when someone else could turn up and want to play, but just not be at the same skill level.  I couldn't see if she was wearing a mouth guard, but I think she should.  Teeth are not to be taken for granted and a yo-yo travelling at average velocity and trajectory could leave you looking like someone on the public dental waiting list.  She heard me say hello, so she must not have been wearing ear plugs and she certainly wasn't wearing ear muffs.  The whirring sound of the yo-yo on the string can crank up the decibels.  We need to protect our hearing - once it's gone, it's gone.  Depending on her core strength, I'd also add a hernia belt and some strapping for her ankles.

Lastly, I'd add sunscreen and a full sun hat - a visor just doesn't protect the tops of the ears.

She looked like she was having such fun.  It was lovely to come across her.  But that's when someone will have an eye out and there will be tears before bedtime.  Safety first!