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.