"Welcome to Woy Woy" it says in the middle.
A mural (or muriel, for Pratchett fans) at the southern end of the station, near the lift. The bus station is behind the wall and those faint chimneys belong to the Masonic Hall across Railway Street.
The train on the left is older and has yank-open doors. It's rather fun to watch tourists yanking at them open before the train has fully stopped and the master release released them.
The train on the right is the oft-loathed Tangara, a Sydney commuter train. Just as well the doors were painted yellow. They're flush with the sides of the carriages and Dear Old Things couldn't find them by sight or feel.
A ride in the Tangara is akin to a ride in a plastic box with someone else's cheese and pickle sandwiches. They have a stale plasticky feel to them and you feel a bit doomed when you see the notice on the door that says not to attempt to get out if there's a fire.
Warm and sticky this morning. Good thing when one is engaged in rumpy pumpy, not so good for walkies. Went up to Gosford but didn't walk there. Wandered about in Woy Woy for a few minutes after that, had a coffee in a cafe and came home with a large apple turnover for my lunch. I'm livin' la vida loca.