A LONDON LETTER

Evening Star, Issue 23678, 11 September 1940, Page 11

A LONDON LETTER

[By Melanie S. Puimmkk.] “ New Lamps for Old.” Never before was such feverish rummaging in attics, old corners, back yards, kitchen cupboards. From Boyalty down, every woman now strives to do her bit in giving old saucepans and other bits of aluminium. .Reported beard; “ Oh, don’t Mrs Smith ’old ’or ’ead up ’igli these days. That’s since her aloomimim frying pan brought down one of them German Dornicrs, or whatever they calls them. Pure swank, 1 calls it.” With a sniff the envious neighbouring matrons indicate their “ 1 would an’ I could,” hut it isn’t everyone has this suddenly precious metal for their equipment. About a fortnight ago all of us who are members of the W.V.S. were asked to go to every cottage in our respective villages. And groat i'mi it was, a lino chance, too. of seeing interiors of quaintness and ago unsurpassed anywhere in England. Many of these cottages (two rooms and a Dutch oven built in the wall) are more than -100 years old, with lovely old timbers to keep their lath and plaster walls together. An ancient pond nearby is still often the chief source of water, though nowadays a pump hovers nearer the inhabitants—unless it freezes. Incidentally, these little ancient dwellings are safer than modern ones of brick, and even quite close bombing has resulted only in a crack instead of an avalanche of bricks and mortar.

A Goodly Haul. As I do a weekly round fur the national savings village groups it was easy for mu to ask for contributions, four times I returned with my bicycle ado tried somewhat after the manner of the White Knight; pots, kettles, mugs, hot-water bottles .all came in useful and were duly dumped on the village green, there to he gathered to the national heap. Old iron, too, is now much in request, and you should just see the iron bedsteads of a past age. Unwanted, too, are the pokers that did sncii good work for hig fires. Something more elegant is do rignenr in tile parlour now. Three youngsters entered into the game and spent lovely evenings with a wheelbarrow, up and down, shouting “Any old iron?” Dotted outside each garden lies a neat pile waiting for collection. _ Our nextdoor village has ono so high that 1 can’t see how the vanman will start unless he gets a ladder. Our chief grievance is that, though we have done our share, the local authorities haven’t done theirs, and so we are glad to hear that Air Morrison, the Minister, intends to force the pace. . The Queen has, as usual, set a good example, and the quantity of aluminium she sent from Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, and was just fine. Not to be outdone in national service, the two little Princesses gave their tiny aluminium utensils from the little house given some years ago by the people of Wales. I must confess to belonging to those who still cling with affection to some pans, but we are assured that this is not really unpatriotic, as the future holds more appeals. I wonder what our kitchens will ho like when we have demolished Hitler! A Medley of Yarns. Of course, it is only to he expected that odd jokes should lighten our dark hours, not that there' are many of these, for indeed we feel quite up to meeting air raids with equanimity. <

A friend of mine was talking to a sergeant recently returned from the evacuation of France. It was on the const of Brittany, he said, and the last vessel was off in half an hour. After that there would be no means of getting to English shores. About 20 Czechs and Polos stood talking to each other through the only common language, English. " Come on, you fellows,” I called, “wo can’t wait any longer.” “Sir,” replied one, “ wo have decided to stay behind. We feel that we can do plenty of harm here if we stay; we all speak German, of course, and can steal uniforms. So please leave us to work for our countries.” It was magnificent, and 1 wonder how much sabotage they got in before they were caught. “ The only thing about those Poles,” continued the sergeant, “ was the matter of uniforms.” “ What d’you menu?” asked my friend. “ Well, those men would just go, get hold of Gerry clothes, and wander in the enemy lines, doing all the damage they could, moral as well as physical, you understand. Or they’d borrow French ones, at the end when the Gormans were trying to bo popular. And it meant generally no coming back. What guts they have.” Indeed, everywhere one hears praise of this gallant little nation. It’s said that one of the bombs that fell not far from here, and that, like so many others, did not explode, was opened and found to be filled with sand, in which Ayas tucked a note saying: “ We’re with you.” And those came from Poland. London is now organising classes for any soldiers from various countries who want to learn English. And are these classes popular! French people in London were sad on July 1-1, but they must have been cheered when the French troops, under the leadership of General do Gaulle, marched through the big roads, and heard British cheers all round them, to which they answered in the words of one of the most popular posters of the last war. “ On les aura.”

Country Wit. Sometimes unwitting, but none the less amusing. -A Cockney child writing liojiio said r “ It was so funny. In the field was a very big pig. and there wore also many little pigs playing with his waistcoat buttons.” The yokels, of course, come in for a good deal of banter, especially the local defence ones, who are of the most unmilitary type of mind. You may perhaps know that many are posted as sentries, and that they are fortified with rifles. One evening at dn.sk a car approached; “’Alt.” called t'm sentry. “ ’Alt,” once again; “ Well. I’ve halted. AVlmt d'ynu want now?” “I has inv orders; call 'Alt three times then shoot." The motorist did escape unharmed. Another vokod not unite word perfect. “ 'Alt. 'Oo am I?” “ Give you

three guesses, my lad,” answered the officer. On another night a driver named Littler was passing along when came the now familiar “ Halt. Who are you.” To which came the reply: “ Littler, it’s alright.” “ Oh, is it,” came, accompanied by a shot (fortunately only in the leg), “we’ll see who you arc with your L’ltler ” (shortened form of “ Hell, Hitler ”). The Last Word. Newspaper placards are now forbidden, so headlines are written on pavements or in chalk on sheet's of paper. On a pavement an enterprising vendor wrote: “ Dear England, 1 am coming to sec yon on Friday. Adolf ” (this being the date given out by the Italian Press), and by its side you read : “ Dear Adolf, we have got your rations ready.” Another version of L.D.Y. is now: “ WoTl give ’em L., D.V.” Personal Items. Those of you who came to the Triennial Conference last year of the A.C.W.W. will remember the general secretary, Airs Curry. For some years also before her marriage, as Afiss Isabel Cox, she did excellent work for this important woman's activity. Much regret is felt here, in America, and in all those countries that arc affiliated to the head office in London at her retirement for domestic reasons. A very pleasant, yet regretful, gathering assembled'a week or two ago to bid her farewell, and she has been the recipient of a handsome mark of appreciation from the executive, Airs Curry was for some years in Auckland, where her family still has a house in Remuera. Miss Akargaret Winyard, a New Zealand girl, has now been appointed general secretary of the A.C.W.W. At last year’s conference she did much valuable work on the hospitality side, and there is therefore complete confidence in the continued good work of this association. Aliss A. E. Evans, known to so many of ns in London, has now retired from her post as London editor of the ‘ New Zealand Associated Press ’ after strenuout and successful work for 21 years. Dr Ralph Park, son of Air and Airs G. J. Park, of Auckland, has qualified for membership of the Royal College of Physicians. He has been working for the London County Council for the last three years. It is hoped soon to lease 4 Charing Cross load, next door to the Garrick Theatre, as a London New Zealand Club and the provision of a centre for the troops as they oome over.

Mr I. D. Blair, Macmillan Brown Scholar in Agriculture of the University of New Zealand, has left for Canada from the Rothamsted Experimental Station. He intends to complete his tenure of the scholarship at the Winnipeg Dominion Laboratory of Plant Pathology. The wedding was celebrated at Hythc Parish Church of Mr Robert Sims, of Ashford, Middlesex, and Miss Alison West-Watson, daughter of the Archbishop of New Zealand. The engagement is announced of Maureen Ethne David, daughter of Major and the Hon. Airs Tahu Rhodes, Eaton Mansions, London, and Michael G. It. Ncvill, Scots Guards.