AUSTERITY FOR 1947

Press, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 25082, 14 January 1947, Page 8

AUSTERITY FOR 1947

LONDON BEGINS A NEW YEAR “DRAB, DREARY, AND EXPENSIVE ” (From Our Own Correspondent.) LONDON, January 1. In spite of many little improvements Carried out in the previous 12 months, life for the people of London, as they enter another year of austerity and hardships, is still drab, ’ dreary, very expensive, and far from comfortable. By day the streets are shabby and dirty, because paint, wood, and plaster are available only for special purposes; by night they are dismal and dark because of the fuel shortage. Shop windows are unlit, doorways and recesses are forbidding caverns, and even the entrances and foyers of theatres and cinemas are like shadowed tombs.

However, if you look for it you can find some building and repair work going on. Out of the fine old houses round Regent s Park is emerging .a new Whitehall, although it is not yet known what departments will be housed there. BUrned-out residences which nevertheless are structurally sound have little placards outside announcing that they are being, or are about to be, made habitable once more. New bricks, freshly stacked among the weeds in the blitzed areas, are promises of the new London to be born from the ashes. And prefabricated houses, even if they appear unbearably ugly to all but those who have been allotted one. are making their appearance rather apologetically among the more dignified mansions of the residential suburbs. Tourist London, with a hungry eye on the dollar-laden American scene, is reawakening. New restaurants are opening at the rate of 200 a month—for catering is still one of the metropolis’ most profitable enterprises—and the quality of the service, unlike that of the fare offered, is fast improving. Night clubs, however, are not doing so well as a year ago. Uniforms have practically disappeared, and there is Jess money about. Twelve months ago it was common for a man to spend £lO on himself and partner in a moderate evening's' entertainment. To-day few can afford half that sum. Private Entertaining

Because of rationing there is no large-scale private entertaining, and none of the great London houses has “been able to open. Visiting notables and dignitaries can only be entertained by a Government department or one of the embassies. Although one or two of the large hotels insist on evening dress in the restaurant, in an attempt to reintroduce formalities, there are many, among the great, who have no dress clothes and no coupons to buy any. They have to eat in the grill or a private room. Although it is still difficult to secure a room in a hotel, the position is slightly easier than it was a year ago. Some of the smaller hotels have been de-requisitioned, but not all have been able to reopen yet. They need repairs, equipment, and staff, and all three are difficult to get. Public statues are returning to the parks and city squares. William 111 is back in St. James’ Park, and George 111 has returned to Cockspur street. But although his plinth is ready for reoccupation, King Charles still awaits repair, and General Gordon is among the “conspicuously absent.” London’s most-loved statue, the little love-god Eros, who used to smile benevolently down on the night life of Piccadilly Circus, is still missing, in spite of many promises by the authorities to restore him to his plinth, which remains boarded up and covered with advertisements. Londoners would like to see Eros back above all else. The Royal parks are looking tidier, for the gun sites and huts have gone, and more attention can be paid to flower beds. Last spring, for example, there was a cheerful display of Dutch tulips. The appearance of some of the parks has undoubtedly been improved by the war, for unsightly iron railings and fences were removed for scrap metal, and are not likely to be replaced. . _ Theatres still begin their performances in the early evening—about 7 o’clock—and many theatregoers go unfed and in working clothes, for there is no time to go home to dine or change. The world of the theatre is a verv inspiring one at present, for most West End plays have been running far too long, and new shows are held up for lack of a theatre. Drama critics agree that after a run of six or eight months a show has outstayed its welcome, but as long as people continue to pay money in at the box office promoters see no reason why they should prepare a new play. Some productions are now in their ‘second and third year. Drury Lane reopened a couple of weeks ago. but its initial offering—a musical comedy by Noel Coward—proved a sad disappointment. At Covent Garden Covent Garden Opera House, where thousands of servicemen danced during the war, is now fulfilling its pro-, per role once more, and is presenting both opera and ballet. Music continues to ride the crest of a wave of unprecedented popularity, and eight or 10 symphony concerts a week are almost always sold out. Audiences are enthusiastic but not very discrimmating. , One of London’s major headaches this vear will be its traffic problem. Petrol is still rationed, but in the busy hours there are fully as many Cars m central London as there were before the war. More than 1.000.000 workers ■try to use the tubes and buses between 5 and 6 p.m. each day. and the congestion and resulting delays are particularly trying to tired, frayed nerves. There is a proposal to stagger the hours of office staffs, but even if it is adopted it will bring only slight alleviation. Public transport is, however, improving a little. Six thousand women bus conductors have been replaced by men, and men appear to be more confident in this type of work, and therefore more cheerful and obliging. Passenger services are operating much later of an evening than they did during the war. and all 26 long-distance motor-coach routes have been .restored. But city life is still dislocated. Even before the war London had too many people and too few homes, too much traffic and too little labour for the meaner but essential types of jobs. These problems have been considerably aggravated, and 1947. which holds no promise of relief from queues, rationing. or monotony, is likely to be a difficult year to live in.