Mundane Musings

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 128, 20 August 1927, Page 20

Mundane Musings

Wei Blankets

He doesn't like cold, and he doesn't like heat. He dislikes all the people he happens to meet. And nothing's a pleasure and nothing's a treat — He makes a perpetual moan. He grumbles at porters, he grumbles at guards. He curses his luck, and he curses his cards, It's best to avoid him —by furlongs not yards. And let him be gloomy alone. There are some people in whose presence joy withers and dies as surely as a fish deprived of water. When you have arranged a tennis party, scarcely daring to look out of the window, on waking in the morning, in case it is raining, feeling hot and cold alternately as the sun pops in and out, only to realise at last that the weather is going to be line —what are your feelings when the Wet Blanket arrives? You frisk up to her, all gaiety and gush, as it were, and say heartily: “Good afternoon, my dear —so pleased to see you! Isn’t it a heavenly day?” And she replies wanly: “I suppose it is, dear, for those who like heat. I simply can’t bear the sun myself. I should have stayed at home only I didn’t want to disappoint you!” KILL-JOYS If you are foolish enough to show a Wet Blanket your last new dress, she won’t exactly disparage it. Shc'll only contrive to make you feel that the colour will fade, and the stuff will crease, and that the style will become very common and go out at once. If Father has promised you a new two-seater, the male Wet Blanket (what is the masculine for Wet Blanket, by the way?) will delicately convey to you that it is the wrong kind and eats petrol, and that you will have trouble with its valves, or its carburetter, or some equally obscure part of its internal arrangements. If you go out to dinner with one of these killjoys, the menu will be bad, the wine undrinkable, the service poor, and all the other diners grotesque and bad style. One of the most annoying customs of this enervating creature is that of making disparaging remarks about everybody else; I don’t know a more depressing habit. SOMETHING IN THE IDEA Let me implore you, if i r ou have been lured into an engagement to marry one of these, to break the contract immediately, before your life has taken on the drab hue to which the Wet Blanket will ultimately reduce it. Don’t marry someone who will suck all the joy out of your life. Some people contract quite early the habit of grumbling at everything—this is the wrong kind of person to choose as a life-companion. The truly efficient being has no time to grumble when things go awry; he is too busy setting them straight. Futile people dissolve in words and energy which they should .put into deeds, and only those who live with grumblers know how they can sap the vitality of the most sanguine. One mother of famous men was chosen by her husband because she did not grow angry when the snow, which he deliberately contrived to shake over it. spoiled a new dress. I may remark in passing that his wisdom in choosing her surpassed hers in choosing a man who would submit her to such a test; but, nevertheless, there is certainly something in the idea. VARIETY Choose the girl or man who can put up with a wet holiday, or a bad dinner with cheerfulness and equanimity, and, though you may never be rich you stand a very good chance of being happy. But when I said, “don’t marry someone who will suck all the joy out of your life,” don’t go to the other extreme! Choose the happy medium—not a person who finds everything perfect! Such a person can only bring you monotony—not happiness. “ARIADNE” REPEAT PERFORMANCE A talented band of amateurs gave 1 a repeat performance of A. A. Milne’s 1 delightful comedy “Ariadne” at the ' concert chamber of the Town Hall j last evening. Proof of the popularity of the Milne ! play and the amateurs who performed it was seen .in the large attendance. The proceeds from the performance will go toward the formation of a children’s community club by the Play and Recreation Association.