FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 99, 18 July 1927, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By ‘THE LOOK-OUT MAN'’

BROADCAST AXD PROGRAMME In the midst of congratulations upon the opening of the new broadcasting station at Wellington, the hope may be expressed that those who control 2YA will not be flattered into insensibility, but will take warning from the dissatisfaction which has been expressed by Aucklanders at the quality of the programmes transmitted from IYA. A piano is a fine acquisition to the household, if it is used; it is merely ornamental if there is no one to play it. A wireless broadcasting plant may cost a heap of money and justly deserve a reputation for powerful transmission; but it is going to be merely a nuisance and an irritation if it is going to broadcast “tosh.” The programmes sent out from the new station will be heard beyond New Zealand, and if they are not going to be something infinitely superior to those which have so far been supplied, people abroad will form a very poor opinion of this country’s taste in entertainment.

TERMS Beware how you use American terms. English lovers of English criticise some of them as inexpressive —those of them that are not too expressive. “Location” is one. In New Zealand, the piece of ground on which you build your house is called a “section”; in Australia it is an “allotmene”; in America a “location.” In English, “to locate” is a useful transitive verb, meaning to find the position of something, and to be located means to have your whereabouts known. “We can’t have this verb spoilt,” remarks the English critic. Another objection is made to the terrible word “locution” (with no elo or circum in front of it). The writer doesn’t know what it means—he thinks it Is “just a word.” He adds: “We know that bos locutus est, so probably when the ox spake, he spoke to a locution. Let us leave it to the cows. To say a mouthful is an Americanism of some* merit (is it?), but locution is too ruminant a mouthful.”

THE MODERN WEDDING Weddings promise to take on a brighter and more varied tone, the fashion having been set by an old Welsh international wearing his 20-years-old “inter” cap at his daughter’s marriage. In a climate such as ours, it would be fitting for men to dress according to the season, as do the women, and at the same time bring the sporting proclivities of the nation to the fore. Just now, footballers in their jerseys, offset by the hockey girlies with their clubs, be appropriate. In the warmer days that are (we hope) approaching, cricketers might come along in their flannels, with bats instead of walking sticks, and both men and women tennis players could wear the garb of their game, carrying racquets. Wnen summer is really with us (if ever again), there could be an even more suitable state of undress. What could be more apropos, for instance (especially when in a seaside suburb), than that the guests should wear bathing costumes?

'■GIVE US A TRIAL » In these days of stern competition, even the monumental mason finds it necessary to canvass for orders. But it is done delicately, by post. It is urged that a personal call by a traveller in solid samples might bring better business. For instance, you open the front door to be greeted in a sympathetic undertone by a gentleman whose facial expression has been fixed to the proper degree of commiserating grief. “Here, ma’am, is the very latest thing in Celtic crosses from New Zealand marble (‘Buy New Zealand-made goods’). It is a specially reduced bargain line at £2 19s 9d a square foot, any inscription free up to 44 words. All words thereafter at s£d a letter—this is the last of a bankrupt lot bought at ridiculously low prices which accounts for our exceptionally low quote. Here is Oamaru stone —fine for broken columns—young life cut short—we do that at a little less, inscriptions on same terms. We employ a first-class poet for epitaphs. Here’s a lovely thing done for Mrs. Jones: “Jones, he faltered, O, so slightly, When he left his fav’rite bar, Crossing Queen Street just two ‘lightly,. A motor dealt the final jar.” “And here’s another—it delighted the dear child’s mother: ‘Little Willie ate an apple. It teas fatal, for ’tuas green — Doctor, undertaker, chapel, Willie now no more is seen “What, no one dead here? Higher up the road. I am sorry—my mistake. Fourth house up —thank you!”