The steam train ride

Something a little different this week..... the start of a piece for my writer's group's latest proposed anthology - Memories of Childhood. 

Some of this story is true and some is embellishment. I remember taking a steam train ride when I was a child. We travelled from Perth to York, east of Perth, Western Australia's oldest inland town. York was established in 1829 to grow crops to feed the growing Swan River Settlement and became the stepping off point for gold seekers on their way to the Coolgardie-Kalgoorlie goldfields.

The images are from a steam train ride we did in the Hotham Valley Tourist Train a couple of years ago in Dwellingup. Unfortunately I don't have a photo I have taken inside the Perth central railway station. Next time I am in Perth I should go there. 

This one below is from Heritage Perth website. I tried to find an old photo of the inside of the Perth Railway station, but could only find this one taken in 1937 of the outside. 

I can still remember the golden light streaming through the steel and glass roof of the Perth railway station. Dust moats dancing in the glowing mist. The cold early morning air biting my cheeks and fingers. I thrust my hands into the pockets of my buttoned up coat and tug the edge of my new knitted hat. The train hisses, engulfing the platform in billowing clouds of swirling steam and coal smoke.

I hop from one foot to another excited to be here and trying to keep warm. My bare legs and short socks do little to protect me from the cold. My sister and I laugh as we blow our steamy warm breaths into the sunlight.

Mum tells me to stand still and pulls me away from the edge of the platform when I lean over to look at the railway tracks.

“But Mum, I saw a cat running along down there”.

“Rubbish, don’t be silly”.

Dad takes my hand and walks me over to the kiosk where he buys a newspaper and a bag of Fantails from a girl with dark curls framing a big smile and bright red lipstick. Dad winks at me as he secrets the lollies in the pocket of his coat.

As we walk back to where Mum and my sister are sitting on a wooden bench with the picnic basket between them, the train’s whistle blows and the train clunks slowly forward. It hisses as it stops just beyond us, as if it too is impatient to be on its way.

A man with shiny buttons and stripes on his sleeves swings down from the nearest carriage.

“All aboard” he calls.

Dad pulls our tickets from his pocket and hands them to the conductor.

He smiles at me and tips his cap. “Good morning young lady. Up you go.”

Dad lifts me up the first step and I clamber up into the train. I scamper down the carriage looking for the seat number on my ticket. Dad stows the picnic basket on the overhead rack.

We seat facing each other on hard blue vinyl seats which are cold under my legs. Dad pulls down the window and I lean out looking up and down the platform watching the people get on the train.

“All aboard! Last call!” the conductor calls. He blows his whistle and waves a green flag. The train sounds its whistle loudly in reply and we start to move forward. We are on our way.

Out of the station, through the city, and then into the suburbs. The train blows its whistle whenever we come to a rail crossing. I wave to people sitting waiting in their cars at the crossings.

The city is taken over by the trees and green paddocks. Cows and sheep grazing. Farm houses with red roofs and smoke lazily drifting from chimneys. Tractors turning the damp earth. I see a mob of kangaroos bounding away across a paddock, their long tails beating rhythmically on the earth. I lean out the window and watch the engine and carriages curve along the railway line through the trees. The smoke puffing from the train’s chimney in big plumes.

We stopped in historic York for lunch and for people to get off the train. I remember distinctly that Mum had made egg and bacon pie for lunch which we ate on the train. 

Today York is a popular weekend destination for people drawn to its historic buildings, an alternative community for people happy to commute to Perth for work, and has a growing arts community. In the collage below you can see the Town Hall, the old flour mill, the convent school built in 18763 and the York main street.  It's really time I visited York again. 

More information about York here: Visit York

Thank you so much for stopping by. I value your comments and look forward to hearing from you. I will try to visit your blogs in return. Have a wonderful week. 
I am linking up to the link-ups below. Please click on the links to see fabulous contributions from around the world - virtual touring at its best!
   
MosaicMonday at Letting Go of the Bay Leaf
Sharon's Sovenirs 
Our World Tuesday
Pictorial Tuesday 
ThroughMy Lens 
Image-in-ing
My corner of the world through my camera 
Wednesday Around the World at Communal Global hosted by Randomosity. 
       and Little bird - Pienilintu
Thankful Thursday 
Der-Natur-Thursday 
The Lovin' Life Team over at: Deep Fried Fruit
 Month end link up @ Live love craft me

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