RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CIII, Issue 30367, 17 February 1964, Page 16

RANDOM REMINDER

BETTER LUCK THIS TIME

Heigh ho, Monday again. Hope this week was better than the last one. Very depressing, it was. There was a bad start, macrocarpa hedge about 30 yards long, 10 feet high and about 10 feet across, with a sort of cavernous jungle in the middle. This is not the exercise for middle-aged, but of condition men, for with a hedge of such a size it is necessary to spring nimbly on to the top from the step-ladder which falls far short of the necessary height, and then balance precariously on whatever sort of foothold one can find , in the interior. There is all the thrill of the trampoline, to be sure, when one foot has a firm stand and the other discovers a deepseated spring, or when one descends abruptly through the foliage after dropping the shears. Then there was a letter, too, from someone signing herself “Defender,” in reference to a reference to shorthand made in

this column, some time ago. No. Defender, this is not the place to advertise the merits of the system you learned—that is, unless some sort of agreement can be reached on a suitable fee. Our system was not yours; but we see no need to state what it was. There are so many, apart from the two bestknown ones. We knew a reporter who had his own system, and it seemed to work fairly Well. It looked rather like this: *.*t qk brn fx jmpd ov t Izy dg.” Not, perhaps, a system to be recommended for general use; as one can .see, . it' rather . lends itself to error. But at least we can assure Defender that in our •system, the two symbols referred to look very similar, and depend for . distinction only on the length of one stroke. Another unhappy aspect of last week was the discovery, through the cable news, that a good many of those handsome, sun-

tanned, polished young men one sees in pictures of sophisticated ski resorts are known as “ski bums.” Sort of gigolos, on snow. We had always thought they looked so manly. Disappointing. And the week ended on a strange and disturbing note. A friend told us about an American living in New Zealand who had told him about the popularity of “animal ambulances”—a service designed to- please animal lovers. The American thought there was an excellent opening in New Zealand not only for animal ambulances but for animal funeral’ directors, as well. Bizarre thought: a black-coated gentleman with an expression of perpetual suffering calling for the budgie and, ultimatelv, returning the ashes in something the size of a match-box. And at the crematorium, a simple service, with the customary musical background. Bird Songs at Eventide?