RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31230, 30 November 1966, Page 30

RANDOM REMINDER

PAPER CHASE

If December is the begining of Christmas, November, which we are about to leave, is devoted to the distinctly pagan festivals of the racing calendar. From the welter of wagers and hard luck stories emerges one tale which really has a moral. It is a remarkable story. It is a true one.

A young Auckland man in a seaside suburb had-a day off work and devoted it to gardening. His wife, seizing avidly on the opportunity, went off to have a hair perm., an operation designed to last the day and to cost, according to her husband, after a rapid calculation, as much as the price of gallons of beer. While he worked, he decided he would walk the mile (she had the car) to the local T.A.B. and there invest 5s on a double, so he could listen to the races and have an interest in them. This he did. He purchased a ticket, naming Supra in the first leg at Napier Park. He went back to his gardening. Then it

was time for him to listen to the race. He felt in his pocket for his ticket; he had lost it. He noted, after a fruitless search, that the wind was blowing quite strongly across his garden towards the home of a friend and neighbour.

Supra came in and paid about £43. Then he thought he had best make representations at the T.A.B. They advised him that if the ticket was presented, they could not but pay out on it. He asked them if they could not question the ticket-holder closely; he made a written, signed statement about the business. He went back, gardened. His second leg came in. The double was worth almost £240. He told his wife about it, and the news just about straightened the hair she had just had done. They sat moodily watching television when the neighbours called. They were delighted. They had the winning double at Napier Park. Our man and bis wife exchanged dark

glance*. The neighbour* hardly ever had a wager: and to have thia very double .... A remark about having lost ‘he ticket was tossed int< ’ne ring. The only reactior- was polite sympathy. Our friend let*, aome next day to tr**el to Christchurch, piqued by unhappy thoughts about the duplicity of man. He was at the Wellington airport when he was called to the telephone. It was hia wife. She had made a thorough search of the garden. And she had found his ticket. At least, she had found parts of it: it had been through the motor mower.

Well, there you are. If she had not been fortunate enough to find the evidence, they would—and perhaps with some reasonable reason—have distrusted their neighbours forever more. At present, they do not know whether the bits she collected will be enough to warrant a pay-out But they should. If they don't it would spoil the story.