GEORGE’S MISTAKE

Te Aroha News, Volume XLI, Issue 6421, 29 November 1923, Page 2

GEORGE’S MISTAKE

(Sydney Sun.)

The fierce limelight that has been playing on the early morning Cronulla trams lately has brought conversation on the run to past experiences. This story gets the prize:— George used to get the something past 5 a.m. tram to Sutherland every day. It being such an unearthly hour hour he had to waken himself; his wife washed her hands of the whole affair.

So George eventually schooled himself to be awakened by the tram as it roared past his house on the way down to Cornulla. By immediately diving out of bed when he heard the roar, and falling into his clothes, he always managed to catch the tram when it returned past his house on the way back to Sutherland. Now in winter 5 a.m. is as black as the blackest night.

George came one Wednesdaynight dog tired. Into bed and he wanted no rocking. He slept and slept and slept till—the roar of the downward tram pulled him out of his slumbers.

“Cripes,” said George, "I’ll dash near miss it.”

He had heard the tail end of the roar which put his dressing timetable out of gear. He got into his clothes in the fastest time he had put up for the season, and he had just collected his hat as the tram came back.

George rushed for it—out into the pouring torrents of rain. . “Hell of a morning,” he muttered to himself, as he slid through a pool of water, and landed safely in a mud rut in the pitch blackness of the winter’s morning.

He had to yell at the tram to pull it up, as it seemed to have no intention of stopping at the usual place. “What’s up this time?” asked the driver, jamming on the brakes, “struck another blanky cow?” George climbed aboard. “Where to?” asked the surprised conductor. “Where th’ hell d’you think?” said George, who, wet to the skin, was in the mood to resent any questioning, however slight, “work, of course!” “What! changed your shift?” “Changed me shift nothing!” George looked round the empty -tram.

“Where’s the others? “What others?”

“The five o’clockers!” The conductor looked hard at him for a moment, and then it dawned upon him. He broke the news gently. “This isn’t the five o’clock. It’s the midnight tram going back!” George stopped in the act of tying up his' bootlace and looked up. He was very red in the face. “Gordstruth!” said he, simply. George now lives in Redfern.