Reporter’s diary

Press, 25 January 1988, Page 2

Reporter’s diary

Wings... AIR New Zealand performed a different type of mercy dash last week when it flew a cargo of European resin from Sydney to Auckland. The material was urgently needed for the construction of Fisher and Paykel New Zealand, the yacht destined for the next Whitbread round-the-world challenge. A Westwind 1124 small jet, normally used for carrying small parcels and documents on the Tasman flight, carried three 214 kg drums of resin from Sydney. The flight included an engineer to remove the door of the aircraft to accommodate the large containers, bolt it shut and open it on arrival in Auckland. .. .and prayers ACCORDING to "New Zealand Wings” magazine, a certain former chairman of Rolls-Royce displayed a healthy mistrust of his, or any, company’s products, when asked why he insisted on flying only in four-engined airliners. “Because there are no five-engined airliners,” he

said. The same issue of the magazine tells us the purpose of the propeller is to keep the pilot cool. Don’t believe' it? Watch him sweat when it stops. Piling it on HE was a hard working Greek textile manufacturer who wished to advertise and promote his pure rugs to Englishspeaking clients. The rugs were high quality. The accompanying yarn from his publicity department was a trifle convoluted. “I thank you. very much for giving me freedom besause I dislike beng kept-as-de in my beautiful plastic bag...” the pamphlet begins. “I was botm in Greese, the Land of Gods and Love where people are always joyful and gay. Just as Aphrodite was bom by ocean foam I was born in the rushing torrents of those water-

falls. Thetefore water is my natyral element and washing makes me better each time! Then the punchline... “YOU CAN STORE ME WITHOUT SRECIAL CAZE BECAUSE I AM MOTHPROFFED.” With a rug like this, who wants to pull the wool over the buyer’s eyes? Gather ye

rosebuds IN these cold, hard economic climates, it is somewhat reassuring to hear that the style and spirit of old money has not quite crumbled. An attendant at the Chelsea Flower Show was approached by a gentleman’s manservant who pointed to a massed display of shrub roses with his shooting stick. “Kindly, dispatch 5000 of those to the gardening staff. His Grace the Duke

of Westminster. Thank you.” A whale of a time THERE is a time in the life of a Southern Right whale when thoughts turn towards courtship. Once upon a time, a fellow could rely on relative privacy in which to enjoy a whale of a good time. But, it seems, no longer... An Australian tourist firm has now organised a trip to allow tourists to “observe and record the courtship and mating behaviour of giant 18-metre Southern Right whales ..So instead of the slap of the waves, crying of the gulls and an occasional school of fish, our happy couple will face a battery of clicking cameras and eager-eyed tourists. Fortunately for the tourists, whales cannot sue for breach of privacy...

An offal event A Southland farmer last week discovered a stillborn calf in one of his paddocks. Attaching the carcase behind his motorcycle, he calculated that a swift and smooth broadside on the bike would flip the body into the offal pit with the minimum amount of effort. The only small problem was that the tow rope was too short. The carcase flipped into the pit — closely followed by the farm bike and its rider who soon found himself among some highly unsavoury company which had already spent some months in the pit. Even an hourlong shower failed to extinguish lingering memories. His family didn’t really want to know him for several weeks, and several showers, afterwards.

Christopher Moore.