STRIKE HUMOURS.

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 116, 17 May 1924, Page 17

STRIKE HUMOURS.

•BRIGHTENING" LONDON. A HEW ZEALANDEBS IMPRESSIONS.

ißy F.M.M.)

Louden recently experienced such & nice, cheerful, bright little railway strike, the sort, of thing produced by ghcer joic dc vine, and perhaps a desire to take the family to the pictures. Nothing was gained by the ten days' holiday, for the men quite readily accepted the terms offered to them before they ceased work, lv this case ouly one union went out, so special services were hit, aud all essential trains were running as usual. There seem to be many unions and associations of the same workers, and, to an outsider, none of them appear to be "playing speaks" with each other. ••Red" tickets may refuse to work, while nothing will induce -Blues'' to dc_crL Mr. Mieawbor just at that moment. So 0110 line may be held up, while another is going strong. What appeals to nn outsider is the spirit of optimism everywhere, the feeling that it is all a huge joke, something, as it were, to brighten London. When you meet a friend, instead of saying. "What a horrid day." or "isn't it bitterly cold." you smile broadly and ask: "Well, how's the strike your way:" Probably be tells you he is obliged to remain in town at bis club, aud tries to look unhappy when you sympathise over his enforced separation from family and home. Lots of people were much inconvenienced, large sums of money were lost, aud probably a good dc_l of hardship fell on members of the community, but the ill wind blew pleasure to many concerned. On the Platform. Some friauds, who bad theatre seats, found tbat there was a train going to London from a neighbouring town 011 the eventful day, and I was asked to meet them. They were not quite sure if it really would reach the starting post, the h/)Ur also was vague, and the arrival sta ion in Londou tbey would leave to mc. It might be any one of several, though they were inclined to put their money on Victoria. So was I, and went down early to investigate. One would hardly recognise, in the five o'clock of a Sunday morning desertion of strike time, the crowded and busy station of ordinary days. There was some bustle at the boat train platform, and here and there a few disconsolate would-be travellers were guarding their luggage and gazing into space. At intervals someone would hurry in, rush round, and gradually sink into the same state of apathy. _\o noise of trains dashing in aud out, no roar of escaping steam, jostling of excited passengers, and narrow escapes from piled luggage and narrow escapes from piled luggage trucks. I tackled a Cook's man and an inspector, -who abandoned a xcry fupny story, when I addressed them. "A train from the Epsom district? Well, no, they could not rightly say," though the inspector believed be had heard that a train had left Dorking that morning—or it might be Dover, rather thought it was. Would I ask at the office? Hero they wore most encouraging. There really was a train on its way; even if it did not get as far as London, it was doing its best. Platform? Oh, well, it might be 12 or 14. but he rather thought it would be li or 7. I said it was evidently a train with a mind of its own, but it was rather a pity not to make it up sooner. He hoped we would meet and recognise each other, and smiled mc out. I decided to concentrate on 6 or 7, and after a tedious wait, an official appeared and I dashed forward. "Is it? can it be, a train coming in?" "Well, ma'am, it c.oes look like it. I expect. this will be the one you are looking for." I felt we sliould have cheered, and presented a piece of plate to the brave pioneers. Spirit of Adventure. A few days later I arose full of the spirit of adventure, induced by a bright cold morning and a biut of suushine. Hardly even that— just a lighter atmosphere and absence of fog. At oucc I decided to go into the country to sec the budding trees, spring flowers, and little birds building their nests. That it was the middle of winter, with snowin parts, did no{. trouble mc. Kowa-iavs wo are taught that what we wish for hard enough comes true, and constant repetition materialises the desired object. I could have gone easily by bus, hut that was much too obvious, so .1 started early, to find a station that promised a train. .After some hours of uncertainty I found what I -wanted, and was able to purchase a single ticket provisionally. The train, which was standing cold and aloof at. a platform, w-as the only one to be seen, and it Eeemed to have no immediate' intention of departing from its Alexander S.lkirk attitude. Vpry few people appeared to know of the bravo buccaneer, or to trust it. I shared a carriage with a very nervous lady, suddenly called to a relative's _.ick bed. In due time we started, and. well out of the station, I began to tjkc notice Never had 1 travelled in so old and badly found a carriage. At a well-known junction 1 got into conversation with a delightfu. guard, who explained that they had brought out obsolete rolling stock because a big smash-up would entail no loss. At this point my companion thought she would get out, spoke feelingly of her absent children, "and wondered by relatives got ill at inopportune moments. Every time we overran a station or were jerked up by sudden brakes she expected immediate dissolution. At one large station I was much intrigued to see the driver and fireman climb on top of their engine, and, with long-handled tools, hammer tbe poor thing together. It was a most thrilling experience, and when I eventually alighted at my hoped-for destination it was with a feeling of real loss that I watched tie train wandering on, and disappearing in the misty distance. A good friend, if .1 trifle erratic in its actions. I stayed in a lovely old village, and spent the night in a. twelfth centuryinn, with all the modern comforts of a Tiitz. There were no spring sights or sounds—only falling snow, and a roaring fire ou an open hearth in a black oak chamber haunted by memories of by-gone days. Next morning, to complete the Christmas card picture, there stood in the courtyard a real old-world coach, starting for London town. Gay was it in orange and black and scarlet, with four prancing steeds held by ostlers, a driver in many caped coat and grey top hat. In the rumble stood a figure in scarlet coat, who tooted on a long brass horn. Could one resist the invitation, though feeling sadly out of the picture in modern dress. And so home again. _ ___