Wear 380: Dear Metrol ...

Dear Metrol [Corporation who runs the Melbourne, Australia, train network],

Firstly [It's always best to sandwich complaints or criticisms between some more positive feedback, so I am going to do that], I wanted to congratulate you on your recent refurbishment of Flinders Street Station [one of the main CBD stations, housed in a magnificent Art Nouveau building]. In the morning sun, the new paintwork glows like part of the sunrise and truly warms my heart, making me glad to be alive and awake: A fine effort for someone coming off a twelve hour night shift filled with, frankly, idiots!

The tiles are shiny, the new advertising screens on the escalator approaches are blindingly advertisey, the new barriers are barrier-y, even if they have shrunk the available walking space [which is so convenient for a person going contra to the morning flow of selfish %^$#holes who were already impossible to flow against! (Not!) Sorry, wasn't meant to be at the complaining part yet. Don't even get me started on why it was necessary to take away the platform clocks: yeah, there is a teeny weeny one on the computer screen that shows where the next train to Richmond, Southern Cross or the Loop departs from. If I can get close enough to see it. And I suppose, unlike every other somnolent person wandering the platform, I could find my phone and look at the time there. I'm sure that having the clocks gone significantly lessens the perception that the train is late and that would be highly beneficial to your reputation (Not!).]

[Before I started this post, I wasn't truly aware of how much bitterness I actually felt towards my rail provider--and I haven't even gotten to the point yet!]

Also, I really appreciate that you took away the food kiosks and put the staff out of a job so that we could choose between a Coca Cola vending machine and one of only two establishments I have been so disappointed with in the world that I made a Google Maps review on its extremely rude staff. All in all, the changes are magnificent. [I really do like the way the sun shines on the building and the building itself: neither of which can really be attributed to the company running the rail network though. I'm not sure of the quality of the bread in this complaint sandwich any more!]

I must, however come to the point of my correspondence with you today, which is to say that I am decidedly unhappy that of all the magnificent colours in the world, you chose to make the representative colour of MY train line Navy. Navy!

Don't get me wrong. Navy has its place. And perhaps, like bottle green, its use in a uniform that has formed a significant part of my life (green for school, navy for work), has tainted me to its true potential. But honestly? Navy? And while I can add some hot pink or orange or limey green shoes or accessories to my uniform or the navy items I have for everyday or special occasion wear, there is no way to accessorise a train line.

This isn't any train line. This is the Belgrave/Lilydale Line. It takes you to mountains and forests, to national parks and hippies, to the quirky and the extraverted. It takes you to rhododendron gardens and tulip festivals and what were, in the day, the gardens where all of Melbourne's flowers came from. It takes you to the burgundies of steam trains and the rainbows of rosellas and butterflies. Admittedly it'll take you also to the dark blue (almost navy) of the silly swamphens too. But their blue shimmers and is accompanied by the bright red of their beaks. Can the same destination gems justify the joyous pink of the the Sandringham Line's livery, the radiant orange of Craigieburn? Spare me!

I am not even sure if this can be remedied at this point. I am sorely disappointed that there appears to have been no public consultation on this matter. I would be interested to know if, perhaps, the ultimate decision maker in this process was someone who lived on one of the more colourfully labeled lines. It smacks of corruption!

Luckily [or maybe not], I have since moved my place of work [Don't even get me started on that!] and now I travel on the bus [Oh, don't even get me started on that! I didn't know edge-of-my-seat, suicidal, danger until I started travelling frequently on a bus that travels an 80km/hr road!]. The bus has no colour [Not literally: it's orange, but they are all orange. Or blue.]. Regardless, Metrol, I still felt that my suburb was misrepresented by your choice of colour for its line. And I still felt you should know.

I look forward, each week, to my chance to liaise with you about all matters public transport. Next week I'd like to discuss the synchronicity of ticket inspectors and small rail disasters. I am always so happy to prove I've paid a full fare when I have spent innumerable hours circumventing train works with alternative modes of travel (The bus again? Walking? Charter? Light Aircraft? Pogo Stick? Loan Skates?). I literally can't look them in the eye.

But I run away with myself. Let me let you go and deal with this issue and I will talk to you next week.

Kindest Regards,

List Addict

The Outfit Jumper: ASOS Skirt: ASOS Earrings: Cheapy Junk Shop Somewhere Shoes: Irregular Choice

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