LOCAL GOSSIP

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21396, 20 October 1934, Page 1 (Supplement)

LOCAL GOSSIP

BY MKRCUTIO

Heigh-ho, the flight of time! Twenty years ago this week since the grey ships steamed in line out of Te Whanganui-a-Tara, and the Main Body of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force put to sea! Grey ships, a grey dawn and a grey sea, with this band of Argonauts faring forth for an unknown destination; that was the setting, those were the circumstances, save that, unlike the Argonauts of old, they sought no golden fleece. Their motive and their mission were very different. And of those who in scattered twos and threes returned to their homeland at different times and under different conditions —what has the harvest of the years brought to them? To find the answer to that question you would have to take a crosssection of the community into which these survivors of the Main Body, like those who followed the trail they blazed, have Some have prospered, some have fallen on. evil times. Some have retained their vigour and force, some have grown old and very very tired. But with all there is a heritage of memories that nothing can destroy. This is true of all who made the outward journey and returned. To the men of the Main Body there is the added feature of having blazed the trail. Among them there is a bond which nothing else can quite equal. And it is twenty years ago since that bond was signed and, stamped that morning when anchors were weighed for the troopships to put to sea.

A motorist fined for an alleged offence in a South Island town is prepared to prove that he has not been in the South Island for sixteen or seventeen years and has never driven a car them anyhow. It is a fairly complete alibi. In fact, it is nearly as wellrounded as the answer of the man who was asked if it was true he was in the habit of beating his wife. He said "It is not true. In the first place, 1 wouldn't do such a thing. In the second/ my wife would not allow me to do such a thing. In the third, 1 have no wife."

The liquid side of Auckland has developed a knack of worrying Parliament. Last year it was milk that demanded legislation and got it, while water demanded too, and missed. This year milk came forward early in the session pleading for repeal, but made no impression on a stony-hearted House. How could it ? These people had passed the Act less than a twelve month before. To ask that they should admit they were utterly wrong in doing so was asking too much of human nature; so this year milk missed. Now water has missed again, but the select committee which produced the death warrant for the measure practically asked for another • dose of the same by recommending Government legislation to end all the bother and perturbation. These queer people in Parliament must be coming' to like the badly-agitated liquids of Auckland. One could hardly imagine them getting, enthusiastic in this fashion about a mixture of milk and water; but then there's no accounting for tastes. If anyone cares to follow the Parliamentary discussions of thase two very damp topics, he will find that a surprising amount of heat and fire is generated in debate, especially with water the subject. Which makes one wonder what would happen if Auckland were to toss some more potent liquor into the arena down in Wellington. . ;

It's a risky business, upsetting the balance of Nature. Incidentally the phrase is no empty one, nor are its implications vague like those of the balance of trade or —sometimes—the balance of- assets over liabilities. New Zealand is full of instances showing what happens when Nature's nicely adjusted plan to keep this creature in check, to allow that to multiply and ,-so forth, is interfered with by clumsyfooted man. Consider the swarming rabbits, the intrusive stoats and weasels, and the badly persecuted native birds, and you will realise what is meant. Jfio w comes another instance. Pohutukawa trees along the coastline have been found flowering far before their due season and nobody seems to know quite why. The explanation is simple. Earnest people have been debating what flower should be chosen as the national emblem of New Zealand. The claims of the pohutukawa were disputed on the ground that its flowering season was too short. That was enough, of course, to set the poh,utukawas flowering just to disprove the Blight cast upon their race and kind. Hence another blow has been struck at the balance of Nature. Great care is indicated. A rash person has declared gorse to be more vigorous and tenacious of life than manuka. With a challenge like, that to meet, there s no knowing what the manuka mayn't do. Really people should think a little more before they speak.

' Perplexity has fallen upfm an Auckland member of a respectable calling. The other day he received a communication from the bank in which his modest current account is kept. There was nothing special about the document; it was the address that raised the doubts and queries. It ran: "A. B. Blank, Esq., Journalist, Auckland." He had never been addressed this way before bv his banker. Why this sudden emphasis on his occupation? Only two reasons came to him —one. that the fluent literary style in which his cheques were drawn had impressed the banker, the other that the microscopic size of his account;had made the address seem somehow appropriate.

Some people, even members of the Harbour Board, have been making nasty remarks about the siren on the Ferry Building, which marks some of the hours of the day. Just why it does nowadays is not quite clear. Apparently it was intended as a signal ior starting and stopping work on the waterfront, but they say it does not serve in that capacity now. One thing safd in its'defence was that people set their clocks by it. You can understand its usefulness for that purpose. The chap who owns a clock which strikes seventeen with the hands pointing to a-quarter to three to show that itJ is five minutes past nine simply must have some means of telling the time; hut is it really necessary to annoy the whole community with r lar<ze, iiih melodious! siren for his benefit? It might be cheaper, and certainly would he less disturbing, to buy him a reliable watch. All told, the arguments for the siren were a little inconclusn e. Yet it must be admitted that if it ceased to sound one would somehow miss its golden voice. The original sirens of classic myth were fabulous creatures that sang with unearthly charm, hiring poor sailors to destruction. The resourceful skipper of one famous .crew plugged the ears of his men with wax to make them deaf to the sirens'! song. The Ferry Building siren is not as dangerous as all that. •At it,s worst, it only sent men to start work, and it/wouldn't have needed wax, nor even cottonwool, to .safeguard them against that temptation. Judged by •uch standards this siren is harmless »nd has hardly earned destruction.