Sandringham

 

The certainty of life keeping to a certain order continues into a new day, a new month, a new year. An alcoholic has had to reform on their terms. Diets have taught restraint, a new perspective on appetite and need. A declutter of the house gives residents cause to take stock. This is certainly the case in Sandringham, as most anywhere else. The grass is slightly yellower, the conversation more practical, the waves at the beach politer in Sandringham, even if that is only the Sandringham in our own mind. One is not required to have been to Sandringham for twenty years, or at all, to live with the certainty that things go on going on. Social media takes up too much time, sleeping in is all part of the fitness program, a walk to the shops is a plan, in Sandringham. Dreaming of voyages to romantic locations, like Port Douglas, Verona, or the Moon, can start at the local terminus station known as Sandringham. True, Sandringham makes no claims to be the Eighth Wonder of the Modern World. Its train platform is without stage presence. There is lack of a level crossing, so conversion of the station into a transport palace is remote. Yet of a certainty, carriages arrive at orderly, frequent and regular intervals to relieve a person of carrying their baggage, then transport them somewhere other than Sandringham, romantic or not. The bogies have come to a comfortable halt, wheels winningly in the groove. Windows beckon inside, where elaborate seating and moderated heating and cooling systems promise the same comfort expected, year-round, at home. Racks for storing baggage were dispensed with some models ago, in the days when suitcases fell on top of unsuspecting travellers and dangling schoolbag hooks caught them in the eye. Spacious waist level storage areas are available for those with a long way to go and a lot to carry, of a certainty. Half-empty smoothie containers and crumpled corn chip bags are amongst the few visual blemishes in this transport of delight, the odd sharpie badge of Death’s Head Graffiti (DHG) adding to the décor of rules and rail maps along the walls. Prospective test cricketers, up-and-coming screen actresses, future Prime Ministers know they can go quietly about their business in Sandringham, escaping the nagging at home, self-training their personal boundaries, or just shooting the breeze on their monogram-studded mobile by stepping onto the next train to Flinders Street Station. They can join the daytripping Jaded Bayside Commuters (JBC) tripping dazedly back onto the carriage, each keeping a sensible distance from the others, making ‘hey’ while the Sun shines. Narelle from the Network requests that passengers be kind to one another through the crackling intercom and have a nice day, as the carriage starts leaving the platform behind, the terminal unterminated again.