RANDOM NOTES

Dominion, Volume 28, Issue 285, 29 August 1935, Page 8

RANDOM NOTES

Sidelights on Current

Events

(By Kickshaws.)

Who can deny that there is many a slip between Auckland and Wellington these days.

Hitler has decided that national fervour is not an exportable commodity. Well, that’s something, anyway.

Parents are reported to have oieued their own school in a town in England. The idea, we understand, is to enable parents to do their children’s bornework better.

“Your interesting paragraph on birdnests brings to mind that birds have no fear of electricity when desirous of raising a family,” says "Devon.” "Before the electrical changeover in Wellington, there were many, pole transformers that were always warm and provided with ventilating holes which the birds considered eminently suitable for nesting places in spite of the 2000-volt terminals nearby. Even now there are some bare 11,000-volt coils on a line in one of our suburbs in which the birds contrive to build in spite of vigilance, and on one occasion, though their nesting material caused a shutdown, the fireworks only meant a few days’ rest for their activities. Another favourite spot is at the back of electric street lamp-shades, if there is a small opening.”

Mention by “Devon” of the indifference of birds to high electrical voltage is a reminder that birds and some fourlegged animals seem to have a a uncanny knowledge as to when a wire is live or not. For instance, when the suburban railway lines were first electrified round London, very few pigeons were electrocuted, despite the fact that these birds had always made a practice of congregating on the une.tctrified lines. Some instinct seemed io tell them that the lines had become dangerous. More curious still was tne fact that the moment the electricity was cut off the birds knew somehow that the rails were safe. They could be seen taking liberties that they never dared to take when the current was on and the rail live. Rats, it is said, also have the same uncanny knowledge and know to avoid the high voltage rails in the “Tubes” and "Underground” railways. Have some animals a sixth sense or can this be explained in some other way? It is known, for exampie that homing pigeons are affected in the vicinity of high-powered radio stations, and lose their sense of direction, fluttering helplessly to the ground.

It was pathetic to read that the King’s yacht, Britannia, will not race again, because “it is humiliating to the old boat to come in last every time.” For most people the ownership of the 42-year-old yacht Britannia is sufficient definition of the King’s position in the yachting world. If he has really decided not to race his yacht again something will have gone out of Cowes that can never be replaced. Old as is Britannia, she was built in 1593, she is still strong and unstrained, a model of seaworthiness, and very reliable. That is something more than the mere winning of races. In 1926 the King was sufficiently proud -of her abilities to give her a new rig. Mast, spars and sails were renewed. A deputation of yachtsmen gave the King a painting of his yacht from the Royal Academy a few years ago. He told them with pride that she then had 160 firsts to her credit. In her first four seasons away back in last century, she won 122 firsts out of 219 starts. By 1897 her prize money had mounted to the respectable sum of £lO,OOO. They may be able to make yachts that can beat the Britannia in speed. They ought to be able to do that after 40 years. But somehow Britannia is the mother of Cowes. Let us hope the King has many a pleasant cruise in her in the years to come.

Curiously enough, it was Royal interest in sailing that first brought to the small town of Cowes, in the Isle of Wight, the fame it enjoys to-day. It has been Royal influence that has made Cowes the headquarters of yachting the world over. Cowes was "discovered” when King George HI was ordered a seaside holiday. He sailed over to Cowes from Weymouth. His court followed in large cumbersome yachts and Cowes entertained the Royal fleet. The Royal Yacht Squadron has always been connected with the Kings and Queens of England. One can well believe it. because it requires a royal purse to be a member of this club. After candidates have passed the sieve of selection —it took Lipton almost a lifetime to become a member —there is an entrance fee of 65 guineas. The annual "sub.” is a mere one hundred guineas. That, of course, is oniy a beginning. Those anxious to spend money will find that it is possible to give their anxiety full chance at Cowes. For a brief period every year Cowes becomes the agreed meeting place of millionaires.

If Cowes is a place where money flows freely at one time of the year, yacht racing at Cowes is even more expensive. A decent yacht suitable for racing costs at least £20,000. Trie annual cost of racing the yacht will not be under £-1000. Most owners of a racing yacht also have a steam yacht. This costs at least £50.000. There is, moreover, no better way of eating money than owning a steam yacht. There are, of course, smaller yachts for smaller purses even at Cowes. The 12-metre youngsters cost a mere £4OOO to build and a mere £5OO a year to race The six-metre tots of the yacht world cost only £lOOO to build and £250 ,i year to keep in commission. From this, one might imagine that owning a sailing boat i.s expensive. This is. however, an exaggeration. It is probably cheaper to own a small sailing boat than it is to own a small ear. So far no tax has been put on the wind or on the boats themselves. A quite comfortable sailing boat, not quite up to Cowes standard, will probably cost well under £25 a year to keep in order; anyway. Cowes or no Cowes, men will sail, money or no money—it is an incurable disease.

When winter thieves a day from spring And robs the sun of his bright gold, He smuggles these ill-gotten gains To friends within his fastness cold. They share the luxury of his theft: The sun's gold serves to make them gay As birds that feast on blue-black plums.— Besides, spring cannot miss one day! And in green fields, where water shines, Cows, sheep, and horses bask and graze— No longer huddling under trees. But tranquil—as in summer days Now, though the price of stolen joys Must be repaid in some strange way; It’s worth an angry storm or two. If winter thieves a flue spring day. JV, Hocker