Random reminder

Press, 25 February 1988, Page 19

Random reminder

A party cover-up

Excitement, fervour, fever of anticipation were reaching a climax. Voting day for the election was looming, too closely for some — not closely enough for others. In a city thrust suddenly into national prominence, a bemused populace suffered accordingly. Normally quiet suburbs saw an influx of strangers. Electioneering miscellany inundated each household. Mail-boxes regurgitated pamphlet after pamphlet; coaxing letters, endorsements, instructions and request, some polite and some not so carefully so. Radio and television did their bit, arguing, cajoling and informing. Canvassers, ad infinitum, knocked at doors or ventured into back gardens to solicit support. Naturally, towards the end of the last hectic week, some tempers grew short. There were definite signs of irascibility in some sectors of the public. And not only among the public. . One busy, volatile and voluble visitor, high in the hierarchy of his party was overheard in a restaurant to “blow his top!” Informed that a female wished to speak to him on the telephone, he announced in no uncertain terms, accompanied by some minor expletives, that he wasn’t interrupting his meal to speak to any woman! But, later, he had to talk to a woman, and on the telephone too. Ringing through to the reception desk, he complained bitterly that his shower was not working. Nothing but cold water. Why not hot? The lady placated him, promising to come immediately to his room to investigate. She was soon knocking at his door. He opened it to peer round.

“Can I come in?” she asked. “Certainly not! I’ve only a towel round me!” He stepped out slightly and indeed there was a towel disguising much of a manly figure. Mentally she approved the picture. “I'm in a hurry,” he added “and I do want that shower!” “In that case, there’s a vacant room quite close. I’ve checked the shower there. It’s running hot! You can use it right now!” “What? Go down the corridor like this?” She waited, watching the swift calculation. Should he run the risk of running into one of the party faithful? But a shower he must have. He was off smartly along the corridor, towel adjusted expertly, to the room she indicated. He wasn’t running, mind you but certainly not loitering either. She investigated his recalcitrant shower. Later, presuming he had finished his ablutions, she knocked once more on his door. A repetition of her previous experience. The towel was still in evidence. “Now, sir!” She wagged an admonishing finger. “There’s nothing wrong with your shower! Surely a man as intelligent and as much travelled as you, finds that in most showers it is necessary to run the water for some time until it is really hot! It’s boiling in there now!” Righteously triumphant, she stalked off. A subdued gentleman gave her greeting when next they met. Appraising glances; a secret shared. His later, reported, vigorous and voluble denunciations of the “cover-ups” of opposing parties rather amused her. He was certainly one who knew something about "cover-ups.”