RANDOM AT LARGE

Press, Volume CIX, Issue 31982, 8 May 1969, Page 19

RANDOM AT LARGE

THE NEAR DEPARTED

One of the principal problems about making an overseas trip is that it is very difficult indeed to do the whole thing in secret. Aunt Agatha has to be advised, well in advance, because she has to bp coaxed into the belief that there is nothing she would like better than guardianship of the family cat, an animal of revolting appearance and sullen disposition. It is nice to tell them at work what you plan, too, so the word gets round quickly, although it may be months before you propose to take off. This leads, inevitably, to being stopped in the streets by friends who say they have heard that you

are going overseas. There are inquiries about where you are going and how, and kind wishes for a happy voyage and so forth. It is all very pleasant, but it becomes distinctly embarrassing. Because you meet Jones in the street in February, and the polite exchanges mentioned earlier take place. You tell him, lightly, that you are not going until April, but he says that just in case he doesn’t run into you again, he would like to express his earnest desire that your voyage should be comfortable, rewarding, and pleasant. You thank him for these expressions of good will, shake hands, and part. In the middle of March, who do you see

on the bus but Jones: this time there is a hint of the lukewarm in the conversation.

And of course you see him again at the end of the month and he says weakly “Not off yet?" or "Thought you would be well away by now." Two days before departure, you are walking down Hereford Street and have to duck into a doorway and study a few brass plates earnestly because Jones is bearing down on you. There are, naturally, several Joneses, and by the time you are really ready to depart, you wish you had become a Trappist monk instead of planning a journey away from home.