Paekakariki Refresh Room

The reopening of the railway refreshment room at Paekakariki, after a complete overhaul, was an occasion. The Paekakariki refreshment room is possibly the best known railway institution of its kind in the North Island.

To the casual eye the Paekakariki railway station is just another station. Nothing to look at - but that’s another story; to start a discussion on New Zealand railway architecture is not the idea here.

But to the railway traveller "Paekak." Really means something. It’s the place where the engines are changed from electricity to steam or the other way round as the case may be: more important still to the traveller it’s the place where eats and drinks (and on rare occasions nowadays) smokes are to be had.

Now, eats and drinks can be Big Business - very Big Business. And they are Big Business at Paekakariki, reckoned in the thousands, hundreds of thousands, sometimes into the near half-million. Not in cash, of course, but in tea, coffee, "pop", sandwiches, buns, and whatnots.

Last year some 365,000 sandwiches were sold over the counter at Paekakariki, 17,500 pieces of block cake, 30,500 yeast buns, and thousands and thousands of bread rolls. All this was helped on its way by 313,570 cups of tea and coffee and more then 36,000 bottles of "pop". Just over 1300lb of tea and 6500 gallons of milk were used: into the sandwiches went 8600lb of ham and 4850lb of butter.

Of course any waitress who was there at the time will tell you (almost disdainfully) that these figures are just "chicken feed". At the height of what’s known locally as the American invasion - well, your guess is as good as another’s.

Still, last year’s figures do strike the imagination. One wouldn’t suspect the drab old room and its long out-of-date equipment capable of making them.

Long ago the railway authorities had decided that the refreshment set-up at Paekakariki had served its day. It dated back many years - to more leisurely days when people weren’t in such a hurry to eat and drink, or, for that matter, even to travel.

But the spate of travel of recent years got to the bottom of its resources. The time had come for a change, the outfit had (as the boys put it nowadays) "had it". But decisions were one thing and execution quite another. There were war conditions.

At long last the change the change has come. Not only has the whole method of serving refreshments to the travelling public been changed but the room has been completely renovated. No longer (except possibly during the rush of holiday traffic) will the traveller have to worry his way up to the counter, anxiously watch the attendant pour out the tea, turn around, and reach out here and there for the eats, turn back to hand over the order, turn around again for the change, and again turn back to hand that over.

Having achieved all that, he will no longer have to work his way out again, lucky if he has escaped a splash of his own or somebody else’s tea. No longer will he encounter drabness when he enters the room.

The new system is what has become known as the "Ashburton" system. Its fundamental purpose, of course, is to speed up the serving of eats and drinks. And it certainly does that.

It had its first try-out on Saturday morning, and, as events turned out, it proved an acid test. On top of the early morning Auckland-Wellington express, the up and down Wellington-Palmerston North passenger trains, and the Wellington-Napier express, there was a heavily-laden special for race-goers to Otaki; in one case the staff had to meet the wants of passengers of two trains at once.

It says a lot for the merits of the new set-up that they got through handsomely.

To understand best how it works, put yourself in the place of the traveller. Entering the room you meet a long, modern-style counter along which run a score or so of glass enclosed cabinets. In these cabinets are the "eats," in full view, so your choice is easy. You name them, also your beverage (tea and coffee pots, cups and saucers are on a special shelf on a level with the base of the glass cabinets), and in less than two seconds they come straight over: the change (if any) quickly follows. It’s as simple as that, and so speedy that the time taken to serve each customer is possibly halved.

The Department has made a particularly fine job of the renovation work. The main refreshment room has been entirely redecorated in deep cream and soft green, with floor coverings and hangings to tone; the effect is thoroughly modern, pleasant, and restful.

Through the courtesy of the stationmaster, Mr J. G. Whetton, and the waitress in charge, Miss I. M. Warner, "The Post" saw something of the new system from the inside. The main kitchen department has also been completely renovated, the work including the raising of the roof several feet to increase the air space and light. Sinks have been remodelled and fitted with stainless steel tops, and a new type of water heater for washing up installed. The whole of the interior of the kitchen is painted deep cream.

There is little that Miss Warner, an extremely pleasant and obviously efficient young lady, doesn’t know about the eats and drinks business – and about the vagaries of the travelling public as well. She’s learnt a lot about human nature – the good and otherwise. Her special aversion seems to be the man who tenders a 5-pound note for a few pennyworth of eats. And there are more of that kind about than one would think she says.

Another surprising sidelight of the refreshment business at Paekakariki is the fact that passengers on up trains (just three-quarters of an hour out from Wellington) buy more eats and drinks than do passengers on down trains. In the case of morning trains that’s understandable – there is the hurried breakfast, the rush to catch the train, and the hollow feeling that swiftly follows. But it works the same way in the case of the afternoon Auckland express and the Limited.

Possibly it was a queer association of ideas, but as we watched the kitchen processes after the departure of one of the trains, we unconsciously felt something of the rhythm of Kipling’s "Boots." We took our leave with a vision – and rhythm – of "Cups, Cups, Cups, Cups"

( An Article from the Evening Post )