ENTERING ENGLAND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 23082, 7 January 1937, Page 16

ENTERING ENGLAND

THE CUSTOMS FORMALITIES ONE WOMAN ACTS HONESTLY STORY OF THE OUTCOME I met her in the boat train from Paris to Calais, the actual introduction being effected by the salt, the pepper, the mustard, and the butter, all of which I gallantly passed her in turn till she had to say something else but “ thank you,” writes Anthony Armstrong in the Cape Times.

Did I say she was young and pretty, or did you guess? Never mind!

We talked happily all through the meal, and I stood her a brandy. After lunch I discovered a Frenchman in ray compartment smoking what the French call a cigar, nobody having yet broken the truth to them, and so had a good excuse for joining her in hers. We talked further. It appeared she was a little apprehensive about the Customs examination at Dover. Ninety-nine per cent, of her sex get these sudden qualms as they approach England. They remember all the absolute bargains they had to snap up in Paris because, after all, one is saving on the duty; not till about Calais do they realise the saving of the duty is not yet accomplished and requires a brazen nerve, an innocent stsre, and an ability to lie so unblushingly that you can only do it by persuading yourself thoroughly beforehand that it isn’t a lie at all and that even if it is it isn’t a crime to cheat the Customs. ALREADY AT WORK

This process was already at work in my lady’s mind, because every now and then conversation seemed to take a sudden dog-leg bend, apropos of nothing, and she came out with: “It’s the first time I’ve found myself returning to England since the new Customs duties/’ or else: “ I think it’s a scandal to have to pay again for something you’ve already paid for.” A little later on the boat she had got as far as: “Of course I quite understand duties and all that if one’s bringing things home for profit, on purpose to sell afterwards, I mean—but if it’s just something you’ve bought for your personal use. it’s all right, isn’t it? ” Symptoms of nervousness were now more apparent, because, instead of the above being, like the earlier remarks, parentheses in our main conversation, mere bubbles from something deeper in her mind, this time she expected an answer. “ Isn’t it? ” she repeated, anxiously. “No,” I said definitely. “I’m afraid not. Whether for your personal use or not, if it’s new it has to pay duty.” I realised exactly what the girl was trying to do. She knew well enough everything new had tp pay duty, and she was merely trying to get me to say “ no ” and then use me to quell her conscience with, WEARING THE THINGS

“That man,” she would say to her conscience, “ says it’s all right, and he looks a reliable chap, so shut up, can’t you? ” And then with one foot metaphorically on conscience’s neck, and one hand metaphorically in mine, she’d swear blue to the Customs she had nothing to declare. And, if caught cut, she’d probably blame me for having deceived her. No, she wasn’t going to catch me like that.

She turned a pair of hurt blue eyes on to me. “Oh, surely,” she asked. “Why if I’d thought 'that, I’d never have bought all the things I have. I’ve got a gorgeous new silk umbrella, and a frock and stockings and six lovely pairs of knickers.”

“ You’ll have to pay duty on them all,” I said. “And frankly, I’d advise you to be honest about it. It’s usually the best way.” “Do you really thinlc I ought? ” She added a pleading smile to the charming blue eyes. I hardened my heart. “I think you ought—for your own sake. I’d hate to see you soaked for a terrible fine, or prison in default.” “There’d be no chance of your paying it for me, would there? ” Frank seduction had now crept into the smile.

“I’d come and see you in prison on Fridays,” I compromised. “ How darling of you! I say, I’ve just thought! Someone told me that once you’ve worn the things they cease to be new. I’ve worn the frock and the stockings and two of the knickers. Couldn’t I get a cabin and go quickly and wear the rest of the knickers before we get to Dover? And I could put up the* umbrella and say I thought it looked like rain. Then it’d be all right and I needn’t pay on anything.” I shook my head. “ Ingenious,” I admitted, “ but really not very good. You would have to pay on everything bought abroad.” “You’re not being very helpful, are you? ” she pouted. “I’m trying to be, but really it’s best to be honest.”

“ I wonder if you’re right.” Then frankly: “ I never have been honest before, you know. I might try it and see what happens.” “RULES MADE BY MEN”

“It’d be the best policy. Even apart from the moral aspect, which I can see means very little.” “ Oh, it does. It’s just that I think Customs are stupid rules made by men who never bought jolly things in Paris; so I don’t think one’s bound to keep them.” “ But,” she went on hurriedly, seeing the expression that I simply couldn’t keep out of my face, “ you’re a man and you don’t understand feminine ideas of honesty. Still, you’ve been so sweet buying me that brandy and helping me with those ghastly porters that I’ll do as you say. I’ll be honest. , . I lost sight of her in the Customs. As a matter of fact I intended to lose sight of her for that period. '<,■ She joined me at the seat I had kept for her in the train, looking flushed and furious.

“Never again,” she said angrily. “I declared the umbrella,” she announced.

I looked at her sternly. “ What about the —er—other things? ” “He didn’t ask about them.” I looked at her more sternly, and she had the grace to blush. “That is, not exactly. He said, had I anything to declare, and I said the umbrella, and then stopped, waiting for him to say 1 anything else? ’ but luckily he didn’t. But, my dear, what a business over one little umbrella. I had to go to someone else at a desk and tell them the price of it, a hundred francs, and they calculated, and, do you know, I had actually to pay four shillings. I really was furious! ’’ “What, at paying four shillings? ” “Yes, I thought they let you off or something for being honest.” I gasped. “ They have just a narrow-minded masculine outlook,” I managed to murmur. “Still, there’s one consolation; they didn’t ask to see the bill, because I’d paid 250 francs for that

umbrella. But it’s taught me a lesson,” she went on heatedly. “I’ll never be honest again.” This time I couldn’t even gasp.