SANDY’S CORNER

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 90, Issue 85, 12 April 1946, Page 4

SANDY’S CORNER

MUMS’ DAY! Mums from far and wide gathered in the central hall of Social Security yesterday, smiles on their faces, love in their hearts. They had come to thank whatever there was to thank for having a family, and to take whatever there was to take from the coffers of a country offering 10 shillings a week for each child in grateful tribute to their contribution to the welfare of this land. They came, they smiled, they took and they talked! It was family allowance day! Mum Henrietta Riverlea-Smyth was there; plain Mum Bill Smith was alongside her in the queue. Mum Dumbledon-Brown put. i” her anpearance, large and buxom, and talked condescendingly with little Mum Harry Brown on the elories of having a family with the qualifications necessary to do well at the pay-out counter. Said Mum Dumbledon-Brown: I am putting the monev by to buy a niano for my Josie. She's three and takes after me—has an ear for music. Mum Harrv Brown: I'm spending mine o n myself. They're my kids. Mum Dumbledon-Brown: My husband had an idea that the money hould be set off against his income tax. I wanted it for things about the house: vou know, the little nick-nacks, just little things: so we compromised and now we're going in for a piano, eventually, that is—at the rate of ten shillings a week. Josie's only three, and such a dear. Mum Henrietta Riverlea-Smyth: It may be increased to a pound a week when the Nationalists take over. This is a good thing. Mum Bill Smith: That'll be the day. Mum Henrietta Riverlea-Smyth: And there is always the possibility of a new arrival in the family; another ten shillings a week. Mum Bill Smith: That'll be the day, too. Bill and me, we've had that out long ago; not another one. Wally Nash or no Wally Nash, Nationalists or no Nationalists. Two’s my limit. Mum Bill Jones: You ought to think of maximums, not minimums. I've got five and the money's all mine; I've worked me fingers to the bone, and the old man can want as much as he likes; Im sticking to every penny. We listened to them talking, saw them taking, looked at the smooth, matter-of-fact civil servant behind the cage. Plain Mum Harry Brown and the Dumbledon-Browns were all the same to him; just another pay-out, and would he balance when the end of the day came? If he wanted more notes all he had to do was to call, and a sweet-stepping, smiling damse! brought them, neat, crisp, capable of making the hands itch to count, and the damsel —she had such a smile. A rav of sunshine 'midst civil service and Mums.

A sudden, horrible thought smote us! Suppose there were no more notes, and the damsel had a frown and no smile, and looked on the verge of tears. Horrible! It would be like a cloud o’er Eden if the note supply ran short. We made a sudden, heroic decision. We barged into a queue, for the first time in our lives committing that horrible sin, in amongst the Mums. "Please, " we said to the civil servant, "We want to make an advance payment on our income tax!” Every Mum looked at us as though at some crawling caterpillar that had invaded Eden's sacred precincts. "He must be daft, throw him out!" said several of the Mums together. "Fancy wanting to pay income tax in April.' Must be mad! Throw him out!" "Wrong counter," said the civil servant sternly. “Income tax payments away down the street. Move along, olease; next." We made a hurried escape. Queue breakers deserve hanging, we agree with that; but how unimaginative Governments are. Why couldn’t they have the Family Allowance pay-out queues right alongside the income tax "ay-in queue, so as to show the machinery of our economy at work—out of the taxpayer’s nocket into one window; nut the next into the hands of Mums?