Mundane Musings

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 170, 8 October 1927, Page 22 (Supplement)

Mundane Musings

Neo-Georgian

Peter and Anne were at the end of their financial tether—n<?t for the first time, it is true, but this time it proved to be an inelastic tether. Peter had already written to a particularly pressing creditor: “Sir, —In reply to yours of the nth inst. I beg to inform you that if you persist in your applications for payment of the account which I have . pleasure in returning to you herewith, I shall merely shoot myself, in which case I should be regretfully unable to see my way to do anything for you in the matter of settlement.” He signed the letter. “Yours sincerely,” because he was by nature a truthful person. (On the same principle, whenever he had occasion to write to Anne be always put, “Yours more or less faithfully,” but that is by the way . . .) The only result of this unique communication to this P.P. Creditor, was that the said creditor placed the matter in the hands of his solicitors. Some people have no imagination. It was then that Peter and Anne sent out invitations to their friends, “We intend to Do Ourselves In, and are giving a Farewell Party. No need to bring your mugs, the champagne will be served in buckets. Do come and give yourselves the chance to say your' little piece at the inquest.” All the Bright Young People of Peter’s and Anne’s set were highly “intrigued,” and turned up in deep mourning and high spirits. It was a very wild party, and when it was all over and all the unpaid-for champagne consumed, those of the Bright Young People who could still stand without having to lean on the cocktail bar—painted a chaste blue and orange as the outward and visible sign of an inward and ingrowing modernity —presented their host and hostess with a horseshoe of white heather, and someone murmured somethig about “there’s a Dostoieffsky that shapes our ends, A. A. Milne them, as we will.” which everybody agreed was really awfully subtle. ...

When the last guest had departed, Peter and Anne hung the white heather horseshoe round the cocktail shaker, and went upstairs and turned on the gas. . .

They wakened in the morning each with a champagne head and on this side of Eternity. They were completely disgusted, but seeing that they were still in this vale of tears and debts, Anne suggested they should have a cup of tea. because, she said, she’d never felt like this since her last rough sea voyage. Peter agreed, and Anne went downstairs to make the tea. It was then she discovered that there was no gas. The gas company had cut off the supply in accordance with their threat contained in their letter of the day before yesterday, which letter, Peter, tired of reading demands for money, had never troubled to open. Peter felt very strongly about the matter. It was interference with individual liberty, that’s what it was. Not content with forcing them to remain against their will on the income tax side of the Styx, they were now denied a cup of tea- A harmless, necessary, cup of tea. . . . Anne suggested a cocktail, as an alternative, but Peter said that the best people didn’t drink cocktails before breakfast. Anne, who was also feeling like that, said perhaps he was right.

It was at this point that she had the inspiration of the belfry of the cathedral. At least no one could cut off the supply of space through which they might drop gracefully into Eternity, feo they wrote an insulting postcard to’ the gas company, and posted it without a stamp—“ Pour rire,” said Anne, —then walked in a gloomy champagneheadache silence to the cathedral. They entered its cool darkness and made their way to the foot of the stairs which led up to the belfry. But they could not mount the stairs because a notice barred the way, “Closed to visitors during repairs.”

In disgust. they decided to go home and drink iced water and think out some scheme by which a perverse Fate might be outwitted, but almost outside their own front door the vehicle of Fate itself bore down upon them. Anne escaped on to an island in the road, but Peter was knocked down. His last words before he lapsed into unconsciousness were, “Hang it all, I might have been killed,” and there was righteous indignation in his voice. . . . The result of the accident was that Peter’s right arm was badly fractured, and Anne immediately conceived the idea that they should sue for compensation- “An artist's right arm is his living,” said Anne, “and besides, the publicity of the action might be useful. You know, Peter, ‘Young Artist Knocked Down by Car Outside Own Front Door Claims Compensation.’ Even if we don’t get the compensation the publicity might be helpful. There a.re always people ready to feel all-over-sentimental about artists, particularly young artists with girl-wives who cry distressingly when giving evidence. I think I could cry distressingly if you thought it would help.” Peter thought it would. The wellknown actor, whose car Fate had borrowed for the oc sion, protested vigorously that it was Peter’s own fault that he got knocked down, and that he was not entitled to compensation. Jaywalkers should be taught a lesson, the moral being that the jay-walker gathers no compensation. The well-known actor got big head-lines in the evening papers, and altogether it made quite a nice little story. “Popular Actor Sued by Young Artist.” Anne was very pathetic in tears and her best two-piece, giving evidence; she dwelt upon the hardships of struggling artists who got knocked down by rich men’s cars and got their arms fractured through no fault of their own, so that ther livelihood, not to mention their young wives’ dress "’’owance, was taken away from them. . . . Witness was here overcome by emotion and had to be assisted from the box- . . . She was so effective that the court decided that the W.K.A.

should pay the young couple five hundred pounds compensation. " Five hundred pounds would cover Peter's and Anne's debts quite comfortably, and they were just congratulating themselves, when they learned that