LUNCH IN THE STREET.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 97, 26 April 1932, Page 9

LUNCH IN THE STREET.

ROADMEN'S DINING-ROOM

NATURAL GOOD MANNERS.

DRINKING PROM THE BOTTLE.

(By STROLLER.)

An entire absence of self-conscious-ness is said to be one of the hall-marks of good manners, and the further one gets away from the folks who are obviously socially ambitious the more naturalness one finds. Someone has observed that kings and beggars have the best manners in the world. There is no possible doubt as to the status of the one or the other, so they can both afford to be natural. Passing along the street, I have often been struck by the entire lack of self-consciousness among the men who work on the roads.

Next time you observe them knocking off for lunch just throw a glance, and see if I am not right.

How many of us could luricli in the street and appear at our eaee ? When 12 o'clock sounds the gangs drop pick and shovel, or pneumatic drill, make for their coats or bags, hanging confidingly by improvised pegs 011 some adjacent wall, collect the wrapped-up lunch and bottle—usually of cold tea —choose a place in the shade where they will have something to lean against, and then proceed to discuss the viands as nonchalantly as though they were clubmen dining in the seclusion of their club, with all the concomitants of napery, silver and attentive waiters.

The other day there was a gang working at the corner of Victoria and Albert Streets. Their lunch-room was the pavement under a shady verandah. Sitting on the asphalt, feet stretchcd out in front of them, leaning backs against the lower part of the shop window—for'them it was apparently a matter of perfect indifference that the crowd passed to and fro —right at their feet. The French Workman. A bottle is an awkward thing to drink from VwLh any degree of grace, but these al fresco lunchers manage-it in a way

that makes it look the most natural way of drinking. The working-class French are very good at that sort of thing. I remember admiring the manners of an ouvrier in a third class railway carriage between Dinard and Dinant. Like the majority of his class, his mid-day meal was a foot or so of bread, "un bout de saussise," and his "boisson" was the native cider, in place of the inevitable vin ordinaire that one meets everywhere but in Normandy. With his clasp knife he cut a slice of bread, then a slice of sausage, and ate them with gusto but an entire absence of the rather distressing signs one sometimes meets in the hum-

bler walks, and washed down the repast with draughts straight from the bottle. Even if he had had a wine glass he could not have done it more decorously. It was then tliat one realised the force of the saying about self-consciousnc»s and good manners.

My friends at the corner of Victoria Street reminded me of the Normandy workman. One would much rather have a meal with them than with the distressing people who are so painfully good-mannered —who. would be quite lost without a table napkin (even if it is of paper) and wlio consider that one of the requirements of good table manners when drinking tea is to make the little linger stick out rigidly at right angles to the outside of the cup. Amateur Roadmen. These men who work in the street always have a fascination for me, and I always had a bit of a" desire to emulate the people in some reminisences of the Locker-Lampson family. They must have been decidedly eccentric, but so many interesting people are. Somebody had been remarking on the apparently casual way in which men pulled up the roadways in London, the place "where the streets are always up and the stocks are always down," and one of the Lampsons conceived the brilliant idea of proving that anyone could mess about the roadways. Dressing up as nearly like workmen as possible, a couple of them got to work on the wood blocking in some quite busy thoroughfare, tore up a yard or so, then erected one of those little tent arrangements and took their ease. A touch of local colour was given by getting one of the younger members of the family (suitably dressed, of course), to bring along lunch in a red handkerchief.

Traffic was much annoyed, but tlic "workmen" thoroughly enjoyed themselves, and it was not until late in the afternoon that anyone suspected anything was wrong. I forget the sequel, but even a county council official could hardly be hard-hearted enough to prosecute such delightfully irresponsible people. At the same time I do not think it would be wise to try anything of the kind in Auckland. Auckland is somewhat smaller.