RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CVIII, Issue 31768, 27 August 1968, Page 22

RANDOM REMINDER

FALL-OUT

There are still some who tend to ignore the findings of the best scientific brains over the centuries and proclaim that it is love which makes the world go round. If we were given a say in this matter, we would come down heavily on the side of the volunteer worker as being of more practical value to the pleasant life than the lover. Man is a gregarious creature, and his working life is devoted to a very large extent to making it possible for him to relax, at opportune times, with his fellows. In the bowling club, fellowship often reaches a particular peak. But what would happen to the bowling club were it not for the men who are willing to put the best foot forward, leave no stone unturned, etc., to see that things are kept ship-shape? Such organisations, as a

rule, could not possibly afford to hire professional services for their housekeeping. But there is one club of which we know which may well be regretting that it had such a willing worker as its president.

There was a painting job, in the club’s lounge, and some pink stuff was smeared over the ceiling. The president, as energetic as he was affable, thought that the ceiling would be the better for an evenlypainted coat of white. So he took on the task himself—the sort of gesture which makes a club live, and which helps to make life worth while. He arrived properly equipped, inasmuch as he had a baseball cap, as worn by painters in American television programmes, white paint, and a brush. Actually, that did not last very long. He made a

grave beginning, but fell into error when he decided to retreat downwards to observe the effect of hU artistry. He made the basi* mistake of entrusting bU not inconsiderable weigh*, to a frail, collapsible chaii which within a split secor#J made it obvious that it was frail and collapsible. It was, they say, a very spectacular eruption. The ceiling attained a distinctly psychedelic look, the carpet had a liberal coating of white paint, and the man himself looked like someone in distress in the very northern latitudes. Of course, the ceiling was fixed up, and the painter himself eventually became recognisable. But the most earnest endeavours have failed to remove the final traces from the carpet. And there they stay, mute testimony to the warm-hearted, volunteer workers of the world.