Sydney Central Station is no different from any mainline station anywhere in the world. Always the hustle and bustle of people going to or from their homes to work; holidaymakers clutching baggage, maps and small children’s hands; railway employees in their hi-vis clothing trying studiously to ignore the looks of confused or harassed customers.
Personally, in comparison to London’s mainline rail terminals, I felt that Sydney Central seemed almost tranquil and ordered. A single ticket to Newcastle was purchased for $8.20 and the departure board showed the next train was due to depart in 13 minutes at 9.15am fro platform 8.
I strolled along to that platform walked past a couple of disinterested ticket checkers and boarded the train. My 22kg suitcase was hefted effortlessly, who am I kidding, across the gap between the train and the platform. Australia favours the double-decker variety of train, similar to those found often in mainland Europe and North America. I didn’t wish to sustain a hernia and so I opted for the lower level for me and my suitcase.
Another simple but seemingly good idea relates to the seats on these trains. They can be arranged so that you have a four seat format, two bench seats facing each other, ideal for friends or families or, by simply pulling the seat backward or forward, create two separate sets of two seats. (That sounds more complicated than it actually is…believe me).
The journey, once beyond the Sydney suburbs is really very scenic. The train trundles through, and stops, at many stations en route to Newcastle. It is particularly pretty at Gosford where the track curves along Brisbane Water having crossed the mouth of The Hawkesbury River estuary. By 12.15pm I was pulling into Hamilton, a suburb of Newcastle, where I was to be met by my good friend Neil or Jonesy to most of his close associates.
An accountant by profession and a football referee by hobby, Jonesy leads a pretty hectic lifestyle. I accompanied him to a meeting at 4pm and joined him and his friend Eadsey at their local gym where to my trepidation, I was able to purchase temporary membership and then join in an ‘Abs’ workout.
I was less than 24 hours off a 26 hour flight and with little sleep in the preceding 72 hours, and yet here I was preparing for, in their words, a high intensity work out on my tummy muscles. Now there’s a contradiction in terms, stomach muscles. The nearest my stomach has been to muscles was at a seafood stall in Clacton-on-Sea last summer!
This Abs workout lasted for 12 minutes and as I entered the hall I did, admittedly, relax somewhat when I saw the body shapes of a few of the ‘willing’ participants lying sprawled around on their backs. Or, could it be they were left over from previous workouts and were too exhausted to move away?
The instructor was an incredibly thin lady called Helen, who apparently, is soon to reach her 60th birthday. I was introduced by the boys who explained that I had very recently arrived from England and may or may not stay awake for the whole session. Helen assured me I would and as the floor space filled with expectant participants and the music powered up, Helen encouraged me not to fall asleep as I assumed a prone position on the floor.
Linked to a microphone to be heard above the pounding music, Helen encouraged and cajoled us to action. Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with she called. Could I get away with just lying on my back for the next 12 minutes I wondered, but seeing the efforts of a rather large lady nearby, I decided not.
Now Helen is an incredibly agile and fit lady, nearly 60 years old or not, and was easily demonstrating the movements that we should all be aspiring to without even sounding out of breath. Different movements and stretches were occurring at breakneck, well break something, speed and just as I was coping on my back came the instruction to flip over onto our fronts.
What the hell, taking your whole body weight on your forearms and your toes you were suspended off the ground holding this pose. I don’t know what hurt more, my stomach muscles or my shoulders? The final ‘stretch’ as Helen called it saw us revert to our backs and then raising our legs as high as we could vertically above ourselves rotate each in turn in a form of slow motion cycling. If I had thought the other exercises had been hard, then this was really painful.
Helen seemed pleased that I hadn’t fallen asleep and looked forward to welcoming me back for more punishment next week! Will I return to the U.K. with an ironing board stomach or just the washing to put on it?
On our way back home we stopped off at a local supermarket so that I could purchase some salad items in order to continue my healthy eating regime. When we had unloaded these, we retired to the hotel across the road for a Chinese meal…que cera
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