A LETTER FROM HOME.

Otago Witness, Issue 3830, 9 August 1927, Page 67

A LETTER FROM HOME.

By

Sheila Scobir Macdonald.

(Special for the Otago Witness.) June 12. The red petals of that farmer’s bugbear, the wild poppy, are bursting forth in even the best-regulated cornfields, for although we shiver and shake, and our i r. ■;>.nd hands are blue with cold, it’s nearly midsummer, and midsummer and Zs.-.u * and poppies all happen together. The weather is what east coast seaside resorts advertise with pathetic pride as “ bracing,” but as I personally have a loathing of being “ braced,” even in winter I forget that my chimney has been swept and the house spring cleaned, and blithely lighting the one and only coal fire that a labour-saving age and a shortage of domestics has left me, I pretend that it’s February, and am comfortable.

Ascot is always a toss up as regards clothes, for when it’s hot it’s very hot, and when it's the other thing (which is most frequent)—well, it is it. Many wise matrons and damsels set out for the great meeting wearing one outfit, and carrying another to be donned if necessary. All the shops are gay with the most wonderful frocks labelled simply “ Ascot,” and side by side with the diaphanous creations arc macintoshes and umbrellas. But such glorified macintoshes and umbrellas! Things of satin and crepe de chine, even proofed velvet, and umbrellas in the same exact shade. There are scarlet, and gold, blue, green, mauve, and silver mac.’s looking for all the world like evening cloaks, with no hint whatever of the harder life in store for them. All the same, I hardly think they are quite as useful as the old drab article, for the other day when I emerged from the Metropolitan, at High street, Kensington, to find the street a river, and rain falling in sheets, I overheard a woman expostulating loudly with an impatient man creature who was urging her to “ Come on—it’s nearly over! ” Said she: “I simply can’t go out in that! My mac. would be ruined.”

I had a good look at the article then. It was fashioned of pale blue crepe de chine, with a dashing little checked collar and cuffs, with the most beautiful brolly to match. Very beautiful; but one splash of London's special brand of oily mud would have been its undoing. Some of the papers have been print- | ing the most interesting photographs of women’s past Ascot toilettes, some of them too remarkable for words. The 1914 model was quite the worst, with the most virulent of stripes going across the figure, a waist under the arms, and a peg top skirt reaching to the ankles, where it was at the outside about 40in round the hem. Looking at it one could hardly believe that such a fearsome garment could have been tolerated only 13 years ago. And yet I can remember having one very much like it, and being unable in consequence to step into a car without assistance, and a confused pulling up of my skirts. Next Sunday being Ascot Sunday the river will lie thronged with '.'ashionablc, famous, and notorious people. It is the correct thing to spend Ascot Sunday on the river as near to Boulter's lock as . possible. Everybody -vyho is anybody goes, so the crowding can be imagined. Gone is the universal white frock for the river, and nowadays the river girl is like a tropical bird in the vividness of her colouring. From now on until the August holidays begin there is one outdoor amusement after another, with the tennis tournament at Wimbledon, Henley regatta,_ and Goodwood as the bons morccaux, and lesser excitements sandwiched between. We have had veiled but interesting reports of entertaining scenes between players and umpires during the French' championships, and in order to prevent what the authorities here discreetly refer to as “ incidents ” many new regulations have been drawn up. True, the great Suzanne was the centrepiece of all , past “ incidents,” and she won’t appear • at Wimbledon again; but as so many of the first-class players are foreigners, ; and as such are liable to suffer from a crise de nerfs, some rules regulating i such unfortunate attacks were deemed necessary.

There has recently been a very interesting discussion in the papeis as to what age a man should retire from the sport in which he excels. The cause of tile-discussion has been the' simultaneous announcements that Bombardier Wells may return to the boxing ring at the age of 40 and that Major- Segrave is giving up motor car racing at the age of 30. The latter’s explanation of his action is amusingly naive. He says :— “ I have retired because my speed at Daytona gave me a thrill which was not likely to be repeated for a very long time. I have exhausted every side of this pastime, and so am faking up motor boat racing.” That’s all very well for the man—but how about his wife? It must be one thing to keep the home fires burning for a man who is risking his life from a noble sense of duty, but it must be quite another kettle of fish when the wanderer has merely gone off in search of a thrill. * * * This is May Week at Cambridge, and that historic university town is packed full with friends and relations of the undergraduates who are providing endless entertainments for their' guests. ' In one evening alone there are to be no fewer than seven balls, and as the idea is to sample them all and to go by boat, if possible, from one to the other, the young folk will have their time rather more than fully occupied. Tremendous outside interest is being taken in the film produced by one of the dons at a cost of only £2O. It’s a very light-hearted sort of film designed only to poke fun at American conventions, buf as it takes 40 minutes to show it is quite an ambitious effort.

Should it be a success at Cambridge it is to be shown in London, for the whole film industry is staggered at the absurdly low cost of the production and all agog to see results. The actors, of course, weren't paid, but nevertheless the fact that a film lasting 40 minutes can be staged at such trifling cost has set the powers wondering mightily. We shall see just what we shall see, but the fact remains that anything staged at either of our premier universities is generally remarkably good. Again we have had to listen to rumours of the Prince of Wales’s engagement—this time to the Infanta Beatriz of Spain, and only to-day comes an out-and-out denial—much to the general relief. The Infanta is a pretty, fair girl, very much like her mother and with no hint of the ugly Hapsburg mouth, which generation after generation afflicts the Spanish Royal Family, but the fact that her elder brothers are neither of them normal healthy young men, would in itself be a big drawback in British eyes, let alone the religious difficulty. By the way, the photographs of the new court dress for Spanish women have just been published. Seen en masse, they may be striking, as according to all reports the materials of which the dresses are composed is gorgeous, but viewed singly they are yerv ugly. Queen Ena, aided by the Pope, is credited with having been responsible for the design, but as they bear a striking resemblance to the deplorable garment worn by his Holiness’s niece at her marriage in the Vatican last year, I rather think her Majesty merely did as she was told. The Spanish Princesses are coming to England this summer, but I don’t think they will bring their regulation court attire with them. No one I have ever met seems to have either seen or heard of the Prince of the Asturas, but Prince Jaime is frequently here for treatment. He is quite a brightlooking lad, though deaf and dumb. The tragic ill-health of these two elder sons of Queen Ena is said to be due entirely to the awful shock to her nerves of the bomb outrage on her wedding day. which ! makes it infinitely more pitiful. j. But I think the whole nation hopes that [ e when we do do have a Princess of Wales that it will be an English girl we shall ~ welcome.

I went to such an interesting lecture last week on “Flowers, and How We Should Treat Them.” We weren’t told how to grow flowers, but just what to do to preserve them in when cut or in bloom in the garden. Sweet peas, we were told, would last twice as long in water if an aspirin tabloid were added to the water on the second day. Who would have thought it of sweet peas ? Lilac bark poisons the water, but if it is peeled completely off above the water level, the bloom should last more than a week. Carnations fancy a little slit made in their stems, and green fly on roses is more easily and harmlessly removed by a dusting of Keating’s powder than anything else. Shirley poppies burnt at the ends with a match never topple over, and let one down just before a dinner party. I learnt so much in one short hour that it has cost me a smalls fortune proving that the lecturer was quite right in "all she -told us.

Odd how a fly of sorts always gets into the ointment !