Now is the Content of my Winter

“THIS IS THE ELEVEN-THIRTY V-LINE SERVICE FROM WARRNAMBOOL TO SOUTHERN CROSS STATION.” Ouch. Extremely loud and incredibly close. “THIS TRAIN STOPS AT TERANG, CAMPERDOWN, COLAC, BIRREGURRA, WINCHELSEA, MARSHALL, SOUTH GEELONG, GEELONG AND FOOTSCRAY BEFORE TERMINATING AT SOUTHERN CROSS STATION AT ABOUT THREE P.M.” I should have picked it was the deaf guard today. I saw him on the platform shuffling luggage and bicycles into the front of our First Class carriage. First Class. You’ve gotta smile. For the extra nine dollars I get the luxury of looking at the backs of heads rather than playing kneesies. And I have a fold-down table that looks like it’s moulded from papier-maché but, since it was moulded around the time I was born is clearly much sturdier. Sturdier than papier-maché and me, both. “THIS SERVICE WILL DEPART IN THREE MINUTES. NON-TRAVELLING PERSONS SHOULD NOW LEAVE THE TRAIN.” Why does he have to be so loud? There’s another guard, a woman, that you can