FROM A CLUBMAN’S CHAIR

Timaru Herald, Volume CXLIII, Issue 20782, 17 July 1937, Page 18 (Supplement)

FROM A CLUBMAN’S CHAIR

THE GYPSIES WERE THERE PREMIER i JSES HIS SEAT 'Specially written fO7 “ The Timaru Herald " by Charles Martini LONDON. June 8 A South African visitor brought his ten-year-old son to London. They arrived too late for the Coronation, but there was still much to see. The Changing of the Guard, the inside of Westminster Abbey. Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, the decorations, the flood-lighting—the<e were some of the sights the youngster was shown. When asked what he enjoyed most, he said: First, the escalator at Oxford Circus; second the waiter who helped him on with his overcoat; and third, the glass of lemonade his father gave him and which tickled his nose! Nation of Money Hoarders The new’ twelve-sided threepenny bits are being turned out by the Mint at the rate of £20.000 worth weekly. By the end of May eight million had ben issued, yet very few appear to be in general circulation. Evidently they are being retained by the public as objects of interest. This practice invariably accompanies the appearance of new coins. When silver was struck to celebrate Quern Victoria’s Jubilee in 1887 widespread hoarding of the novelties was reported by the Master of the Mint. Even after two years, when over £860.000 worth had been issued there were still comparatively few in circulation. Why Not “ Tickoy “Tanner” and “Bob” have long been familiar expressions to English people; even to those who do not use slang habitually. The threepenny bit, however, unlike the sixpence and the shilling, is rarely called by any other than its correct name—at least not in polite society! What bus conductors have called it under their breath, when a passenger has had the temerity to tender one of these coins (the old, not the new) is a different matter! A visitor from Cape Town) momentarily puzzled me the other day when he referred to the new “tickey.” I think most Londoners would be equally ignorant of the meaning of the South African word for threepenny bit. a coin which apparently is less disliked in the Union than in England. Perhaps the newly designed coin will prove more popular int England than its predecessor and also achieve the familiarity of a nick-name. Why not borrow one for it from South Africa? Useful in a Bus Strike I understand from my bank manager that at his branch only one threepenny piece has been paid in over the counter. Many, of course, have been paid out. not only in response to particular requests, but also to relieve a temporary bank shortage of copper due to the bus strike. Normally milloins of pennies, collected as fares, are paid into the banks each week. The withdrawal of the buses meant a withdrawal of the bank s main source of supply of copper coin. Buses as Screen Stars Many Oversea Coronation visitors arrived and departed without seeing a London bus. Some will be able to describe a typical London street scene in normal times only because of what they saw’ on the cinema screen. At a showing of the new colour film. ""Wings of the Morning.” I heard a voice behind me exclaim excitedly: "Look, there are the buses.” when a street in the Capital was featured. To an audience who had come in from the streets of busless London, the brilliant red of these vehicles, effectively reproduced in this masterpiece of colour, was not needed to make them stand out conspicuously. Sanctuary for Gipsies Released the last week in May ‘‘Wings of the Morning” struck a topical note with its Derby scenes. Steve Donohue was there and so wete the gipsies. At one time it looked as if those dark-skinned wanderers would be missing from the Derby for the first time for 157 years. The Board of Conservators of Epsom Downs issued an edict forbidding their presence and remained adamant despite numerous protests from racegoers. However, Lady Sybil Grant came to the rescue and placed an 18-acre field, within a hundred yards of their traditional camping ground, at the disposal of the gipsies. It meant the loss of a promising crop of hay, valued by Lady Grant’s bailiff at £B4. but her Ladyship considered herself amply repaid by the volubly expressed gratitude of five generations: of gipsies. It is difficult to imagine a Derby Day without a dash of Romany. When I strolled past the new sanctuary it must have contained nearly fifty of the brightly painted caravans. One of the policemen w’ho were ensuring that only genuine gipsies entered the field told me that he had turned away several would-be “gate-crashers.” At least one baby was born in that camp during Derby week. The Premier's Stand The Cabinet reshuffle at Westminster necessitated a certain amount of rearrangement in another quarter. I refer to Madame Tussaud’s famous wax works. When I looked in just before the Parliamentary change-over they were busy giving Neville Chamberlain a new body so that he could stand up and altering Sir John Simon so that he could sit down. The head of the Government is always on his feet at Tussaud’s, while the Chancellor invariably occupies a chair. Other members of the Cabinet are grouped round a table which is modelled on the one at Downing Street. Refusing a Title Surprise was expressed in some quarters at the refusal of Mr Ramsay Macdonald to accept a peerage, but his nearest friends know that he prefers to be thought of as a man of the people. At least two other distinguished politicians have adopted a similar attitude when honours were offered. Gladstone declined a peerage from Queen Victoria. Harcourt, though he accepted a knighthood when Gladstone promoted him to the office of SolicitorGeneral, would not allow King Edward VII to make him a peer.