A WINDOW ON LONDON

Otago Daily Times, Issue 26424, 31 March 1947, Page 4

A WINDOW ON LONDON

LONDON, March 19,

Great floods from the melting snows, inundating many parts of England, are sure signs that winter is taking its overdue leave. A lovely spring is already creeping northward from the South of France, where the fruit trees are breaking into blossom, and we are all hopeful that March will abide by the old proverb and go out like a lamb.

The month certainly lived up to the first part of the adage, for a roaring hurricane, with gusts up to 90 miles an hour, made it physically dangerous to be abroad in London on Sunday night. I went into the city in the evening to meet a fellow New Zealand journalist, who had just arrived that afternoon by airsj and had great difficulty in keeping on my feet while crossing Trafalgar Square. We had dinner in Soho and battled our way down a blacked-out St. Martin’s lane against a gale that was steadily mounting in strength. Heavy swinging signs were creaking and flapping in the wind like flags, and we had just passed the Old Vic Theatre, when a great mass of roofing iron tore loose and crashed into the roadway just behind us, blocking the road.

Pedestrians at cross-roads were blown from the footpaths as they met the sudden impact of the gale, and at Charing Cross we saw a light car blown on to its side as it tried to turn round in front of the station.

As I returned to my home in Kensington I saw ambulances and breakdown cars drawn up in Queen’s Gate, where the wall of a bombed house had been blown down, crashing on to a passing car, and severely injuring the occupants. As I stood watching the debris being cleared, more bricks began to fall to the pavement, and looking up I saw a magnificent Tudor chimney crumbling and swaying on the parapet of another bombed house. We all scurried out of the way as it, too, collapsed into the roadway. Deciding that this was no night to stay out, I hurried home, and was kept awake until dawn by the howling of the gale.

A Screaming Bluebird Talking of noise reminds me of Sir Malcolm Campbell’s new jet-propelled Bluebird, in which he hopes to break his own water-speed record this summer on Coniston Lake. It should be ready- by mid-April, but the veteran speed king has not yet settled upon a definite date for his attempt. I went out to the de Havilland testing beds at Hatfield this week, where a group of, designers, journalists and Sir Malcolm himself saw tests of the fuel supply system for the modified Goblin II gas turbine engine which will power the craftThe engine starts with an alarming roar that decreases in volume but rises rapidly in pitch as the turbine accelerates. Experts say that at top speed the noise is almost more than the human brain can stand. Nothing can be done apparently to combat it, and Sir Malcolm will have to travel in an open cabin cockpit, with no protection from the fiendish howl. Braithwaite Makes a Record

I went out to the London recording studios of His Master’s Voice yesterday morning and watched the New Zealand-born conductor, Warwick Braithwaite, making a record, for release in the Dominion to coincide with his tour in a couple of months’ time. He leaves England next week. The orchestra was the new Philharmonia, and Joan Hammond, the Aus-tralian-born soprano, and a Welsh baritone, Redvers Llewellyn, were singing a duet from Act 111 of “Aida.” Miss Hammond also made a record with Braithwaite of the Jewel Song from “ Faust.” I found it an amusing experience watching an orchestra at work in a recording studio, after having seen them in all their formal glory on the concert platform. They arrived in buses and taxis dressed in anything from ordinary suits and sports clothes to old sweaters, corduroy trousers, garish shirts and mufflers. Braithwaite conducted most of ■ the time in his shirt sleeves, and those members of the orchestra who did nor need their lips for puffing and blowing sessions are lengthy businesses, resmoked while playing. Recording quiring many attempts to get one good “ master-disc ” which will satisfy everyone in matters of interpretation and performance, and some of the players brought their newspapers and books to read while unoccupied. . I was fascinated to see the “ third • horn,” with the morning’s copy of the Daily Telegraph propped on his music stand, doing the cross-word puzzle while the, strings were furiously bowing away at an . accompaniment. He would put his pencil down occasionally to blow two or three notes, then place his instrument on the floor and go on with his puzzle.

By Harvey Blanks

Afterwards we went up to the office of Walter Legge, musical director for Electrical and Musical Industries, where we heard the latest, recordings from the Continent, many of which are to be released in England and New Zealand within the next 12 months. Farewells were said to Warwick Braithwaite, and Joan Hammond expressed her envy at his trip to New Zealand. She had enjoyed a wonderful holiday on her last trip thei’e, she said, and liked the country much better than her own native Australia. Cripp’s Italian Holiday The Easter recess will be spent by Sir Stafford Cripps. in Italy, and few will deny that his holiday has been well earned. The main burden of the Government’s economic policy has fallen on his shoulders during Mr Herbert Morrison’s long illness, and he has had heavy responsibilities in the House.

In addition, he opened the debate on India and has been giving close attention to that subject. Many believe that the fixing of a date for transferring power was decided upon his advocacy. There is still a heavy nrogramme ahead of the president of the Board of Trade, and his medical advisers have stressed the need for him to take care of himself. Nevertheless, Sir Stafford’s sojourn in Italy will not be all pleasure. He intends to make time to pay Rome a brief visit to clear up some of the problems which the Italian trade delegation is still discussing with the authorities in London. Meanwhile, Mr Morrison is making good progress, and many of his colleagues expect to see him back at work by the end of April. Back in Whitehall, after a 24,000mile air tour of R.A.F. stations in the Middle and Far East, is the Undersecretary for Air, young Mr Geoffrey de Freitas. He went out expressly to get the viewpoint of the common, usually-ignored “ Erk,” and threw many commanding officers < into a sweat with his awkward questions. Mr de Freitas, who is 34 years old, interviewed men from the ranks in every air station and outpost he visited, and in the majority of cases hung out the sign—“ Officers: Please Keep Out!” Back in Whitehall, he is preparing to tackle the complaints he received. Mr Churchill’s Relatives

Miss Mary Churchill, who last month married Captain Christopher Soames, is shortly returning, to live with" her husband in a small cottage on Mr Churchill’s Chartwell estate. Captain Soames is just recovering from an illness, as a result of'which his doctors have advised him against returning to Paris to resume his duties as assistant military attache at the British Embassy. Consequently he is relinquishing the post, and the couple have given up their newly-acquired flat in the French capital. Miss Clarissa Churchill, niece of Mr Churchill, has just joined Sir Alexander Korda’s publicity staff at a salary of about £IOOO a year. She is an ash-blonde with fair skin and peri-winkle-blue eyes, and in 1938 was hailed as the year’s 'most beautiful debutante. ’ She is also a ‘young woman with plenty of brains and a thirst for knowledge. With her at the Korda film office will be Miss Lloyd Thomas, another Mayfair beauty, who until recently was personal secretary to Lady Diana Cooper at the British Embassy in Paris. She has large, dark eyes and a vivacious smile. After a period at the London office of the company, she will return to Paris to carry on the work of publicising British films on the Continent, where they are held in high regard.

School-mistress Chairwoman Mrs Florence Paton’s experience as a school-mistress stood her in good stead when she took the chair at a Standing Committee meeting in the House of Commons this week. She made history, being the first woman M.P. ever to do so. A few minutes after the session had begun Colonel F. J. Erroll, Conservative member for Altrincham,, rose sternly to a point of order“ls it right for an honourable member to be reading a magazine? ” he asked. • ... For school-mistress Mrs Paton this was an easy one.. “I think the hon. member ought jo put that magazine away at once,” she ordered primly. The culprit sheepishly obeyed.

“Hats Off, Strangers!” Obedience is a habit strongly cultivated round the House. Every , day when the Speaker’s procession wends its solemn way through Parliaments gloomy corridors, policemen on duty in the central hail make sure that all visitors are bareheaded before the members come into sight. “Hats off, strangers” is the cry and every male head is immediately uncovered in reverence. ... Coming into the House late this week, the Socialist member for Govan, Mr Neil Mac Lean, was caught among the visitors on the wrong side of the alleyway, just as the Speaker approached. To attract his attention, another M.P. called his Christian name. ** Neil! ” And six women visitors knelt at once.