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To the beach

On a better note in Frankston, this delightful sign greets you as you step off the train.  I assume the buses near the sign go to the beach.

Unfortunately for Frankston, it’s all pretty much downhill from there.  It’s the people, I think.  It is very feral.

It was like being let loose in a prison yard at lunchtime.

As I stepped off the train and headed to the gates one guy just jumped them.  Given that I’m completely anal, I brought this to the attention of a ticket-ripper lady nearby. “Oh, I can’t do anything about that,” she said, “I just rip the tickets.”

Dandy.  My first 60 seconds in Frankston included a fare dodger and a ‘not my department’ lady.  I could see that it was my job to subsidise the town in intelligence, hard work and care, so I gave her $200 and told her to take the rest of the day off.

I would like to know more about who made the sign and cost.




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