POSTSCRIPTS

Evening Post, Volume CXXVII, Issue 133, 8 June 1939, Page 12

POSTSCRIPTS

Chronicle and Comment

BY PERCY FLAGE

They are making hotels bigger and brighter, but the glasses are still tantalisingly small. * * * Our Prime Minister also believes in. •the need for team spirit, but you can't have it and kick over the 7 traces as well. * * * Now would be the time for some "stunt" showman to stage one of those bouts in which the matmen wear and wallow in mud. * ♦ • Anon.—New version of an old song: "This, right little, tight little island"— where nothing comes in, and soon nothing goes out, * » * RECORDED. Dear Flage.—ln a Government building last week the superintendent of staff of a big Department suddenly remembered a further complaint he had received regarding Miss Flight and her infringement of regulation 210, sub-clause 14 (vii). Drat the girl! He rang: Bring me Miss Flight's personal file, please! Soon after, the new cadet entered his sanctum. "Please, sir," he said, "Miss Flight says you can't even have her file when she's finished with it." "She says what?" The sup. thumped his desk. "What the blank is she doing with her own file, anyway?" "She's—she's doing up her fingernails, sir." WINSH. « # * HEARD THIS ONE? The Government Party has its campaigns so well organised that nothing is left to chance, not even forgetting to make provision for- overflow meetings for the Cabinet Ministers' orations. In Christchurch South last week a speaker was'ordered to go to a certain (hall in the district to provide a speech for those who were unable to gain admission to the big noise of the electorate. Arriving at the hall, the speaker saw one solitary person sitting on a seat at the rear. He mounted the platform and apologised to the listener for his being unable to gain, admission to the big meeting, but he would endeavour to enlighten the audience on Labour's ideals. The listener replied: "Hurry up, then, I'm. the caretaker, and I want to lock up." D.D.D. * « • INFORMATION DEPARTMENT. Your inquirer, "A.5.M.," Palmerston' North, deserves a better reply than, that given under "Postscripts" on. Friday, June 2: Britain has had many rude visits from earthquakes during the centuries. In the 50 years 1875-1934, 'quakes in England and Wales numbered 81, and in Scotland 340. The number of defined centres are: England, 57; Wales, 8; Scotland, 28. Many of the above-mentioned earthquakes were of a more or less alarming character, notably one at Colchester, England, some 35 miles northeast of London in 1884 (just 55 years ago). This was of No. IX Rossi-Forel scale, which denotes a very heavyshock: no less than 1213 buildings in the vicinity suffered serious injury; several of them being demolished. Public aid was given to assist in restoration of the buildings. R. W. de MONTALK. * • • BRAIN-TEASER. Add to the list of teaser doubles those from Diana, "Scruffy" (". . . still enjoying them"), "Jo Kerr" (that exotic animal would take some finding), "Miramar Mug" (26-265 is our "flaming 'phone number"), Seatoun ("the last one of No. 2 kept me awake for hours . . ."), Wallace G. ("this, is a most intriguing business"), "Co-Re" (Plimmerton), G.S.M., and "Father o* Mine" (". . . the kids all have a go at them"). Overtoun, Kelburn Reader, Scotty Morris, Joynt, Nelson, E.G. ("my first attempt"), "No Headaches" ("stiffen them up, Flage"), and "Tantalus" ("one needed the whisky during ami after trying to solve this one") mastered No. 2, and G.H., A.C., Meinstein No. 1. On with the show! * « • MORNING TEA MONOLOGUE. Not long now till the shortes' day, Time marches on, as poicks say, An' keeps on marchin' for us all. The old-'n'-young, the shorten-tall, Not to forget the fatten-thin, The pure in 'cart an' those in sin. Each year the shortes' day comes round An' we are cold an' winter-bound, An' only corns an' chilblains sprout Like 'ell, my mind churns in-'n'-out Rememb'rin' days uv yore when we Was young-'n'-'appy as could be, An' love it were a dancin' flame (I guess I've 'ad my share uv same!) Them days can't never more return. Instead, we all must live-'n'-learn That as we get grey-aired we near Fast an' more fast our fated beer.*. Let's not be blue, let us forget The fumblin' years—we ain't dead yet, An' won't be while we reckernise An' do our dooty where it lies. Talkin' uv which—our Nat'nlists, For ever shakin' uv their fists At our P.M., are now, they state, To do no more than Wateh-'n'-walt— I don't quite know for what, do you? A funny business, if it's true, Like ole Mick Awbert waitin* for Things to turn up; an' what is more, That's a night-watchman's job; besides They'll wear the seat out uv "their strides. An' 'aye to patch 'em, if they don't Be up-'n'-doin'—which I won't An' can't believe uv Adam's troupe.. . Ow would you like to leap the loop? *Bier? fMicawber? «■ • ♦ ■ MUSHROOMS. T'other day we ran across a friend, who is very fond of food, buying half a pound of mushrooms —price is 6d. "Bad season for 'mushies,'", he commented. "Not so bad." we replied; "not half bad indeed." Then we told him gently, while his eyes widened with envy, of our excursions in search of mid-winter mushrooms and the results therefrom. The Flage menage has not had to purchase mushrooms for this reason. What remains of our family has gone out en masse (if you get the idea) in our four-wheeled rickshaw a number of times and returned with pounds and pounds of them—the majority perfect specimens, and clamouring to be eaten. And we didn't have to travel up to Otaki or Te Horo for them, either. They awaited us in a sheep-pastured sweet little valley which we came upon one afternoon by sheer chance. As the car rumbled along doing a quiet 20 m.p.h. alert eyes caught white flashes in the wet grass . . . presently all hands (and feet) were out gathering mushrooms at a febrile pace. We have returned to that sanctuary time and again, and have never failed to fill the baskets. We have noticed, however, that our" grocer's bill for bacon rashers has jumped alarmingly. Misty mushrooms in mid-winter? we'd love to write a poem about, them, ,