Reporter’s diary

Press, 30 July 1986, Page 2

Reporter’s diary

Vanity fare CAR OWNERS in the United States have more scope for exercising their whims than we do. Although the “ordinary” licence plates are now attractively designed with different colours and state symbols, in some states

custom-made ones of six or seven numerals and letters, and known as vanity plates, can be bought Ones which readers report seeing are: the jogger in California, with RUNNER; the classics teacher with LATIN 1; and the plate belonging to associate professor of economics at Bates College in Lewiston, Maine, Anne D. Williams: PUZZLE. The reason behind the last is that Anne is a jig-saw puzzle collector, creator, and solver, in her spare time. Come to think of it, economics is a puzzle in its own right Nominal value CHRISTCHURCH buses

will be given names at $3O each. Names of Canterbury lakes, beaches, hills and other features will be painted above the doors of the big reds, it was decided at a meeting of the Christchurch Transport Board this week. One committee member recognised this as an ideal opportunity. With the general manager, Mr Max Taylor present there came a stage whisper: “I hope they do not name one Taylor’s Mistake.” New New Zealand CARTOGRAPHERS should close their eyes if they go to EXPO at Vancouver this -year. In the

absence of a New Zealand stand we were represented in other, slightly tipsy, ways. This truncated, deformed map of New Zealand placed Auckland in the sea somewhere to the left of Westport. Miss Adrienne Sykes, of Christchurch, took the photograph of the map which, she says, was in the British display. So much for the mother country. Book aid RAISING MONEY has become almost an art form, with the emergence of Bob Geldof and some of his colossal schemes. Dominique Lapierre, the best-selling French author, used quite different tactics, but with stunning results. Concerned about the plight of Calcutta’s leper children, Lapierre printed a discreet 10-line appeal at the end of his latest book about the Calcutta slums, “The City of Joy.” He returned from the United States to find his Paris apartment knee-deep in 40,000 letters, many of them from English readers, containing more than $250,000. “The concierge was on the verge of suicide,” he told the “Daily Telegraph.” With five trucks loaded with mail sacks also parked outside his home, it was not surprising. He is also giving half his royalties from the book, which has already brought in $1,250,000. Ministerial mixup BEST SELLERS may make their authors famous, but some, obviously, not quite famous enough. Standing alongside a book display in a Christchurch shop this week, a colleague overheard a shopper tell her companion, with considerable authority, that Robert Ludlum was the pen-name of Robert Muldoon. She knew, she did, because it was just like that racehorse, you know, the one called Noodlum. An anagranism, she said, with such an air of finality that our man thinks perhaps someone ought to let Robert Ludlum know. Possibly it was the lurid cover picture of burning bank notes which suggested the identity ... Jenny Clark