THE COMMON ROUND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 24826, 28 January 1942, Page 2

THE COMMON ROUND

By Wayfarer A correspondent" directs our distinguished attention to an item, complete with illustration, in an esteemed contemporary, the Standard (known affectionately in the trade as the “Poor” or “Fifth” Standard). The picture is of a crowd of shoppers, predominantly female, gathered about a shop in George street. The text beneath declares with simple dignity: Not a food queue in depression days, but a street scene depicting busy shoppers who, under Labour’s administra-

tion, find that there is ample of this world's goods for everyone. It is, considered impartially, a pretty tribute to the off-sterling prosperity which may have been vouchsafed us under a.Jaenign Socialist dispensation; but our correspondent's wife (and other wives to whom we have referred this work of art and imagination) refuse to view it in the proper detached spirit. “ Why,” they exclaim indignantly, “that’s a stocking queue. Ample of the world’s goods—indeed! ” It is a circumstance which appears to have escaped the knowledge of the Poor dear old Fifth.

In the midst of the petty distractions which comprise the bulk of the world’s news contained in the daily press, we welcome one really pregnant item in last Saturday’s cabled quota. Perpend:

The Astronomer Royal, Dr Spencer Jones, recently completed the most accurate determination yet recorded of the sun’s distance from the earth. The distance proved to be 93,005,000 miles,

compared with the former estimate of 92,900,000 miles. We have not, we must confess, had the opportunity to check on the figures, and wil£ probably refer them for verification to the Minister of Finance, who is accustomed to dealing in astronomical amounts; but we do feel that good Dr Jones has got something here.

Admittedly it is, to say the s least, humiliating to realise that for years now we have been calmly going about our business under the impression that the sun was only 92,900,000 miles away. It just shows one how careless, and even indifferent, a man may become about things that concern him closely. Here we have all in New Zealand been living in a veritable fool’s paradise, believing that all we had to do to reach the sun was to travel a mere 92,900,000 miles, and all the time we were 105,000 miles out. It certainly is a jolt, especially with the, petrol restrictions, but we shall just have to do our best to adjust ourselves to the new conditions.

The only thing that we would like to be sure of is whether Dr Jones has taken into account in his computations the possibility that the sun may have been slipping. Is there not a chance (naturally we make the suggestion with extreme diffidence, in view of our almost criminal neglect to note the distance accurately ourself) is there a chance, we say, that this 105,000 miles represents the amount the sun has receded since the experts last ran the tape measure over to it? Some of our friends have a firm conviction that the sun is not what it was in the good old days, and when we trotted down to St. Clair for our biennial scramble in the surf the other day we were inclined to agree with them. We should like Dr Jones just to put our mind at rest about this, because if the sun really is gradually going away from the world we intend to address a pretty stiff note to Mr Peter Fraser, asking him what he intends to do about it.

Meanwhile we suggest to the Government that it might be worth while to write to Dr Jones and ask him when he happened to see the sun last, and if he is likely to be making contact with it again in the near future. There are persistent rumours in this city that, defying all the laws of the ,motto trade, it has gone out of business. Well, if Dr Jones is in touch with it. he might just suggest to it that the best way to deal with such gossip, which must be damaging to its trade, would be to come out and see us some time.

We were approached the other day by a purist in such matters, who deprecated in violent terms the disposition of the genus New Zealander to call a table-napkin a serviette. He was incensed, as all good purists should be, by this abject borrowing from the French when a perfectly proper English term is available to describe that which we tuck inside our collar before shushing through the soup. Why, he asked, do we do it? Our answer was vague. The Americans manage a distinction between table-napkins and other kinds by calling the other kind “ diapers,” and it was, we hazarded, a prim New Zealand word-association which leads to the serviette genteelism. We agreed, however, to assist him in his campaign to cancel out this fatherless word, to which end we see no need to do more than quote the Oxford Concise Dictionary:

Serviette, n. Table-napkin (chiefly used by and to waiters). Here is a reproof to make the most self-assured ’ “ serviette ” user blush and recant.

Genteelisms, however, do not end at the table. Foreigners visiting England have been known to express amazement at the unoriginality of the English mind, which has given to all the railway stations the same name; “Ladies: Gentlemen.” In London’s streets, the direction boards, scorning such flattery, are simpler: “ Men ” and “Ladies.” But New Zealand must have her genteelisms. “ Ladies ” is, very properly, retained. After all, as any gentleman will tell you, there is only one type of female unless you happen to know her better, and she is a lady. And a telescoping to “ Lads ” would, in any case, cause confusion. But in this red-blooded, he-man country, men scarcely exist. They become, by one of the most appalling corruptions in New Zealand English. “Gents.” Mercery (whatever that may be) is purveyed only to gents, hats are available only for the heads of gents, their suits are fashioned, more often than not, by gent’s tailors. About this the Concise Oxford says very little in a concise and Oxfordian way: Gent, n. Gentleman (vulg.) From this ruling we do not dissent.

The Emperor of Japan has been struck off the roll of Knights of the Order of the Garter. He'll need to pull his socks up.

There is a new generation springing up, said Professor Wilson at Wellington, which is not bathed in the traditions of the pioneering days. With modern plumbing available, alas, voung people seem to have a prejudice against the good old-fashioned hip bath.

The United States Army announces that a mixture of 80 per cent, alcohol and 20 per cent, gasoline has proved efficient for use in motor vehicles. Yet our New Zealand Bench has stubbornly declared for years that whisky and petrol don’t mix.