PERFECT DERBY DAY

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21784, 25 October 1932, Page 10

PERFECT DERBY DAY

LONDON'S GIGANTIC PICNIC

TOUR OF GIPSY TOWN

One can " see " the Derby from many points of view. If it is the race itself, one wishes to see, arid he is not a firivileged person with a grandstand icket, he should stay at home "and put his wireless on. The excellent description given by the man with powerful glasses, added to a little imagination, provides what is needed. The priviledged people are those who have their seats ofi the various stands, and also a multitude on the tops of omnibuses lined up a dozen yards from the rails. For the rest, at most there are a few caps flashing past, and then news of the winner. The first of June this year was the most beautiful Derby Day since the war, says the New Zealand Herald's London correspondent. When the crowd began to arrive shortly after 8 o'clock the clouds and mist hung low over the country. Drops of rain fell for a few minutes. At 11 o'clock the clouds had lifted and the sun shone. A steady, warm breeze arose. It was a perfect spring day. There was no change throughout the day, and the great crowd of people, rapidly dissolving from 5 o'clock until 8 o'clock, had a beautiful evening in which to make their homeward journey. With these perfect conditions it was natural that the crowd was larger than ever—and a wonderfully good-humoured crowd, too, such is the effect of climatic conditions. GIPSIES ON THE DOWNS.

The vast majority of the public move in a circumscribed circle. About the bus in which they have travelled, or near the seat on the stand they have paid for. But there are other interests on the outskirts of the mighty concourse of people. There are the pleasant Epsom Downs lon which people picnicked in moderate numbers, and only pushed their way nearer the course for a part of the day. This year they . were the wise ones.

For days before the event the gipsie? had gathered on the Downs. They make their colony in a rough area of ground a hundred yards from the course. Some live in squalor and dirt. That is the general impression. But an hour spent in their little village shows that there are grades of society among the gipsies. One family, possibly the " king's" family, had placed their camp on a golf green. The lawn had been carefully cut. Three saloon cars covered with canvas formed part of the camp. The living caravans, were perfectly appointed, and there were several portable huts as well. During the day they supplied tea on the lawn. In the evening this well-dressed Romany family sat round on chairs on the lawn and discussed the events of the day. A glimpse into a number of the caravans showed that, even though personal cleanliness is not a feature of gipsy life, the furnishings inside the caravans are scrupulously tidy. Pots and puns were burnished to perfection and ;n orderly array. Knives, spoons, and forks, shining brightly, were arranged in fanlike form in a case, and otherwise everything was in its place. OTHER END OF THE SCALE. At the other end of the scale were the men and women who have probably never known a wash, let alone a bath, for weeks on end. Two of them, locking like Australian aborigines, sat over a dirty cup in the evening counting the hundreds of pennies they had earned. Hens strutted among the caravans, and ponies wandered about. Throughout the day every gipsy, from the youngest child wlio could walk and talk, was bent on making money, many with a move blessing for one's luck for the four-flay Derby meeting is one of their great harvest weeks. The younger and more attractive members of the family devote themselves to trafficking in luck. "I'll mark the winners on your card, sir, and leave to * your generosity," says one. Another whispers: "Let me give you

some good advice, sir. You'll never regret it." Certainly, the gipsy encampment is seen best in the sunshine. They settle down as though they had been there for months. Their washing is seen drying on the bushes. Canaries sing outside tent and caravan, and when work is done the menfolk stretch themselves at ease in the sunshine on. the warm turf. REMARKABLE SNOW-WHITE FIELD. One other remarkable phase of Derby Day is not seen by those who come and go for the races alone. By 7 o'clock there are only thousands of people left where previously there were hundreds of thousands. The hillside in the middle of the course is once more comparatively deserted. Looking down from Tattenham Corner, one sees a huge field covered with what might be gigantic flakes of snow. There is hardly a square yard that has not its white patch. This "snow-clad" field is attribute of civilisation, for it is merely paper—the normal quantity of paper that a picnicking crowd sheds in a day. But what a task for the scavengers who over-run the Downs with their spears when the day is done! ■ With the extra good humour generated by the perfect climatic conditions, Derby Day was much the same as usual. The great trek from London and the suburbs, the usual traffic blocks here and there, but on the whole a marvellous feat of traffic control. Throughout the day a helicopter—the strange aeroplane with a windmill appliance above it—flew overhead directing the traffic. People came by train, by motor coach and by air.. The day of the horse-drawn vehicle is over. How so many people can gather together in the course of a few hours seems ever to be a miracle. WELCOME TO ROYAL VISITORS. To the tens of thousands of people who had a sight of the royal stand, the pleasure of the day's outing was enhanced by the visible presence of the King and Queen with their family. Indeed, public interest in the royal visitors showed itself far beyond the racecourse and Epsom Downs. At noon there were crowds waiting outside Buckingham Palace to cheer the Royal Family's departure. The Duke of Gloucester was with the King and Queen. Behind their car came those of the Duke and Duchess of York, and of the Princess Royal and the Earl of Harewood. The party was welcomed heartily at the racecourse, where.the Prince of Wales and Prince George joined them. The return journey to London evoked similar enthusiasm. At every cross-road betweeu the racecourse and Wimbledon children were clustered with their parents an-1 nurses, all ready to wave their flags and shout happily, long before the King and Queen appeared.