YOUR CLUB AND MINE

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 46, 17 May 1927, Page 4

YOUR CLUB AND MINE

AN OPEN COLUMN Each Tuesday afternoon a corner will be reserved for original contributions of general interest to womenfolk. The subject matter is for you to choose—whatever topic interests you may also be of interest or amusement to others, whether it be about your hobbies, experiences, or merely amusing musings about the ordinary round of the day. A book prize is offered weekly for the best effort, which should be brief, plainly written, and sent to “Your Club and Mine,” THE SUN, Auckland. The prize this week has been awarded to Miss Kathleen Knight. for the following article. AUCKLAND WAITS IN DURHAM LANE QUEUES AND PLEASURE QUESTS (Written for THE SUN.) There is no comparing the joys of the rich with the joys of the poor. When the ladies and gentlemen upon whom the gods have smiled and blessed with riches go to the theatre they glide up to the theatre door in their limousines at eight o’clock and sail into their orchestral stalls just as the overture is dying down. They seldom enjoy the play; the first act bores them, the second irritates them, and the last is a necessary prelude to supper. But when the poor man goes to the theatre the angels are on his side. If he lives in Auckland, this poor man who cannot afford a reserved seat in the stalls —or even a back seat in the dress circle—he slips down to Durham Lane early in the afternoon and patiently waits, until the curtain goes up. The stones are hard and cold; the street is dirty and dusty; there is a smell of stables and empty packing cases, and back entrances. But the man does not mind: the angels are on his side and their presence throws a golden light over the murky street and turns his discomfort into joy. What enthusiastic theatre-goer, at some time of financial poverty or economy, has not waited in a queue? It seemed that when the Savoy Operas were here last year that half Auckland was packed into Durham Lane. And there is really nothing like waiting in a queue. There are all the component parts of real life. People are just—as they are; friendly, jovial, delightfully human. . There are two classes, certainly—those who buy benzine boxes to sit on and those who sit on the kerb —but they understand oach other perfectly. To converse with one’s neighbours is an entertainment. On one hand may be an old Londoner. Ah,” he will tell you, “I last saw the Gilbert and Sullivan operas in London, 30 years ago, when I was a young man.” And he will tell you about them, and about the old city, until it seems that the scene around you must :ade away and the domes and spires, and the long shadows of lights a-glimmer in the Thames, take the place of the brick wall opposite. On your other hand may be a little woman, knitting. Her patience is comforting. All around, up and down the line, are others, just as patient; as happy as the day is long. Looking at them, one is reminded of a poem of the late Frank Morton. It was written a few months before he died. He was ill and he dreamed that tbe “Saviour came and sat with him,” and told him stories that made him think of I-leaven. There were angels, he wrote. “Great archangels, tall and stately, very calm and proud; little, cosy, chattering angels of the common crowd.” And here, in the queue waiting for the “gods” are the little cosy people of the common crowd; dear* everyday people, just like we are ourselves; and all chattering to pass away the hours. The tall and stately ones, so calm and proud, are probably bored to death over afternoon tea, or talking scandal for dinner, while we in Durham Lane are waiting for the doors to open. It is certain that where ever they are, they are not as happy as we. They are not waiting, all expectancy,, for seven o’clock to come, when the doors will be opened, and they will be told to hold their tickets in their right hands and go one at a time. Oh, .no, they don’t know these thrills. To wait in Durham Lane is appetising sauce for the poorest play. As the darkness falls and the street lights come into being, as the shops shut and the people go home to tea, a mysterious element of glamour descends over the patient pleasure-seekers. Perhaps the gentlemen with the harp and the sad violins will come and play to them and then their magic music will tell of the joy to come, when the doors open and they rush eagerly up the stone steps and down the tiers of wooden seats to the front row. Then there will be another wait of an hour on seats as hard as the kerb, but who minds? Not those who are waiting in the “gods” for the curtain to go up on bright lights and gaiety and romance, who are waiting for some of the wine of life to be served across the footlights.

Go in the “gods” for two and ninepence, the next time you go co the theatre, and see if it is not true that the close comradeship of the other queue-ites, their spontaneous joy of life, their enthusiasm, their humanness, as they wait on their boxes in Durham Dane, is not something just as beautiful to you as the play you are waiting to see. You will never again be sorry, for those who wait in queues. But you may be very sorry for the poor orchestral stalls, who miss so much of the fun, and you will be quite sure that when you are all lined up outside the Golden Gates, waiting for Saint Peter to turn the key and tell you all to hold your tickets in your right hands and go one at a time, that you will have the best of the bargain. It is not hard to imagine that as you rush up the Golden Stairs and out into eternity, you will see the orchestral stalls sitting upright in their plush seats, fidgetting with their programmes and looking bored, while you are eagerly eating up the beauties of the universe. KATHLEEN M. KNIGHT. ST. MATTHIAS’S CHURCH PANMURE ANGLICANS MEET The annual meeting of parishioners of St. Matthias’s Church, Panmure, which is incorporated in the parish of Otahuhu, was held last evening, the vicar, the Rev. C. B. W. Seton, presiding over a large attendance. The annual report showed good allround progress. A large increase in church attendance had been recorded and the offertories at the services were nearly double those of the preceding year and amounted to £544. The vicar urged the importance of restoring to its former beauty the historic old church of St. Matthias. Officers for the year are as follows: Vicar’s warden, Mr. J. Kay; people’s warden, Mr. J. Allen; vestry, Messrs. P. J. Booth, S. Hamlin, S. Hamlin, junr., Keyes, Degge, Williams and Dr. A. C. Purchas.