OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY

Press, 14 September 1981, Page 26

OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY

The other day we met a man who sympathised with those impetuous folk who wake up at some ungodly hour, grab the clock upside down, accept the topsy-turvy position of the hands as correct; and with no thought of calling for a second opinion on their diagnosis, start on the cruel preliminaries of that mundane task of getting ready to go to work. He had just returned from Westport, where a warm ocean current from sunny Australia keeps the sub-tropical fauna thriving and the natives thirsty. He and his wife had been staying at a motel on the road that runs beside the Buller River where the whitebait come from. Their last evening, from the wharf where the cement and coal boats berth,' they had watched the golden sun sink into the Tasman without so much as a sizzle. Then back to the motel. As they had to get away to an early start in the morning, it was not long after tea that they had one more nightcap then into their warmed bed. Much later the loud noise of a passing truck woke the husband. It seemed to be getting light, as though daylight were approaching. Quietly, so as not to disturb his spouse, he gathered his clothes and crept through to the bathroom. Showered

and dressed he came through to the kitchen to make their cup of tea. To check on the time he turned on the radio. They had not used it previously. A pop group having finished their noise, an announcer came on the air. “Good morning, folk, it is now fiveforty — twenty minutes to six . . .’’ Shocked and cursing for having risen from bed at so crazy an hour, he hurriedly switched the radio off. Hoping his wife’was sound asleep and not aware of his antics he undressed again and gently, so as not to wake her, crept back into their bed. “Oh no you don't!" she screamed, jumping out the other side. He told her it was only twenty to six and he’d come back to bed to sleep. She informed him she wasn’t born yesterday, and pointed out their clock showed the hour as ten past seven. To settle the argument he turned on the radio again. Not long and the announcer gave the time again. “Time,” he said, “is five fifty-two." Before our man could demand his wife’s apologies the strange announcer went on to give the name of the station. Like the warm ocean current, the sound waves were coming all the way from sunny Australia.