RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CVII, Issue 31461, 30 August 1967, Page 20

RANDOM REMINDER

SURPRISES

Life would not be nearly ao delightful without the little surprises it presents just about every day. They come in all sizes, from the faint shock of turning on a light switch and finding the bulb has burned out,, to coming cheerfully home from work to discover that mother-in-law has arrived and proposes to stay six months. In recent mail from correspondents there was a little collection of reports which help demonstrate that nothing ean be taken for granted. The most expert technician In a particular field can be reduced in stature very smartly. There was the story of the little country girl whose parents kept fowls and who therefore rarely purchased eggs from a shop; when they were bought at the store, they were brought home in brown paper bags. So she was very much up-stage when she stayed with an aunt in the throbbing metropolis of Ashburton and was sent to buy eggs. For the man behind the counter asked if she wanted red, green or blue. This, she regarded as a deliberate attempt to show

her up as a country bumpkin, and although she was only 12, there was all the haughtiness of outraged womanhood in her demand for white ones.

Over the mountains In Greymouth, a man decided to spend Saturday morning under the house, because he had not carried out a routine inspection for some time. He took a little magnetic torch and got beneath the building, emerging in time for lunch, football, and the hostelry. On Sunday morning he proposed to continue his investigations, but could not find the torch. He said the others in the house must have misplaced it, they said he was incompetent in leaving it below. Only at supper on Sunday evening was it discovered—adhering firmly to the side of the cake tin. Then there was the young man in Christchurch who decided one evening to visit the young lady of his choice. You all remember how It was on such occasions—hair well brushed, teeth cleaned, bunch of flowers on the car seat beside you, and fond thoughts of the loved one. He parked his little car on the sloping drive of the lady’s house,

disembarked, combed his hair again, and started off up the drive. An ominous rattle caused him to turn round. His car was sliding rapidly backwards. It went out the gate, across the road and into a creek at the other side. He telephoned a brother, who came in a truck and considerable temper. He was unable to pull the car out. But a motorist in a highpowered car succeeded, while our hero floundered about shin-deep in mud, water and embarrassment, much to the gratification of the considerable audience which gathered to watch. He didn’t visit his girl that night.

Finally, the scene shifts to Memorial avenue. The young man worked at Harewood on an early shift and was in the habit of singing lustily as he rode his motor-cycle out to work. He didn’t think anyone could hear; but workmen widening the road obviously did. For one morning, as he approached —in particularly good voice —they downed tools, which was something they did with smooth efficiency, and began conducting vigorously. It nearly put him off his machine. It certainly put him off singing.