Reporter’s diary

Press, 25 September 1989, Page 2

Reporter’s diary

Black-belt tomatbes?

GOOD news for gardeners — a new breed of tomato practised in the art of self-defence. A gene from bacteria that researchers say can’t harm other living things is inserted into tomato seeds, letting plants and seeds ward off caterpillar-type insects without the use of insecticides. When the insect eats the plant it ingests the bacteria and dies. The bacteria is lethal only to organisms with a specific alkaline level in their systems, making it dangerous to caterpillars. Mah-jong MAH-JONG clubs do exist in Christchurch. One is run by the W.E.A. and another club meets at the Old Stone House, Shalamar Drive, Cashmere, on Thursday afternoons from 1.30 p.m. to 4.30 p.m. The organiser, Mrs Laney Bernacchi, said up to 35 people belonged to the club, which is run under the auspices of the Cracroft Community Centre. Members of the club don’t have to have their own mah-jong sets but more are most welcome. Beginners are also welcome. If interested, please ring Mrs Bernacchi, 557-058. Soft touch

THE environmentally conscious, low-budget billboard is here. A tube of

stockinette screen-printed with the Canterbury Labour logo has been nailed to a fence on the corner of Salisbury Street and Barbadoes Street. Party faithful say the unusual material is symbolic of the links between town and country, since stockinette is traditionally used to encase Canterbury lamb. Since it is also used for cheese making, could it be interpreted as another symbol of big cheeses going like lambs to the slaughter? Just a thought... Wrong poet APOLOGIES to Alfred Edward Housman (18591936) for attributing his poem on the cherry tree (See Saturday's Reporter’s

Diary) to G. K. Chesterton. It is from Housman’s “A Shropshire Lad” — as several readers kindly told us. This could explain why it wasn’t in any of the references on Chesterton. Uh-duh. Dental check NEITHER had anything been left to chance in preparation for a return trip to Britain by an expatriate now living in Riccarton. Arthur spent weeks thoroughly checking, packing, repacking, sorting and rechecking his bags for the three-week jaunt. As his wife drove him to the airport, she went down the checklist with him. “Are you absolutely, positively certain you’ve got everything?”

she insisted. He turned to her: “Yrph, ooff corph I’m phrphin.” With a sigh, she headed back to collect Arthur’s teeth, still in a glass of water at home. "By your knobs, 'shun!” THE Army leaves nothing to chance — not even opening doors. Among the parade orders for a recent hand-over parade at Burnham, was this illuminating item: “The RP Sgt is to detail two RP N.C.O.S as door openers. These N.C.O.S are to be available for rehearsals on Thu. 14 Sep 89.” So this is what happens to a generation reared in a world of self-opening and automatic doors? —Jenny Setchell