Mundane Musings I’m In Love!

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 175, 14 October 1927, Page 5

Mundane Musings I’m In Love!

I don't expect you to believe me. but my life is practically dedicated to your sex* vice. r Periodically, I say to myself, sharply, "Jane, m’girl, it’s high time you fell p hea.d over heels in love. You owe it to your readers to come across with the real life stuff. For months now you’ve s been writing about all its manifestations i 3 with far too sober and uncurious a pen, s in too (don’t faint) academic a manner. d "Come off it. It’s not what you’re c paid for. You’re paid to recapture the a fine, careless rapture of true love and true love-making, as it affects the na- a tion to-day. Not only for the sake of 0 your readers, but also on behalf of their a interested old pal, Posterity. Let’s hear from you, Steve.” u • • • p Easier said than done. But, would you credit it, I walked slap g into the office of a man friend, quite v detached, sober, academic and‘uncurious of mien. There was nothing on my p heart but a little palpitation due to bolt- p ing my lunch. Yet, before I knew where I was it was 4 o’clock next morning and c we were holding little fingers in the Park. ti Laughing like a couple of kids. But afraid, sweetly afraid, to look each other in the eye. Love! Deep as deep. I know this will offend you enormously. I can feel it. But it is silly of f you. After all, if I’d said I went to a ~ night club and danced my self off my feet, drank too much champagne and smoked my palate dry, you would have ® been most frightfully impressed. Yes, you would. Well, let me tell that the Park at that hour is a far more enchanting rendezvous than any gilded, stuffy, powder and smoke-hung dance club. And if you think we had it all to ourselves, you’re wrong. We were continuously chaperoned by a two-way traffic of ladies and gentlemen of the kind who preferred the park to many other places. I don’t blame them. ♦ * • T Why is it now, that a good kind fate 1 sometimes arranges for two people ] who’ve been seeing each other for 5 months and months, but only occasion- * ally, suddenly to meet, look at each J other, see with seeing eyes and almost at once life is different? Funny, isn’t it? Funny, but delicious. 1 And that’s what makes this tired old world so fresh and so full of amusement j and excitement. What happened to me \ tha.t afternoon after I mentioned quite casually that I was going to buy my- j self a cup of tea, and he said did I mind if he came too, as he also had a wild craving for such refreshment, and when we got to the second cup were talking ! nineteen to the dozen about everything under the sun, and at the fourth, nine- ' teen to the dozen about ourselves as if 1 we never wanted to part again, might happen to you this very day. Oh. I do hope so. Love is the best ' of all tonics to the bored, the weary, the nervy and the work-oppressed. Dinner and a theatre, supper, and cups and cups of coffee. "Waiters looked as if they expected us to pay demurrage. And so, because it seemed from the distant view to be deserted and more kindly to lovers all dressed up with no place to go, the park at 1 o’clock in the morning. Our gusts of laughter made the time fly like magic. Laughter about work, best friends, mutual friends, girls, men, love. Rude laughter, kindly laughter, tender laughter, shocked laughter, nonsensical laughter. And naturally our very best mental calisthenics. "You make me feel quite brilliant, Jane, dear!” (What a nice name Jane is. I’d no idea). “But you are brilliant, sweetness,” was my tender reply. Yes, I’d got to that stage. There were long pauses, when lost in oui* thoughts we leaned over the seat and watched the town’s inky blackness hung with white lights with here and there bright sky-signs. We laughed giggled and chattered. I "You know,” was my soft complaint, ‘this Is all wrong. There’s too much gaiety about this love-affair of ours. It can’t be the real thing we protest it to be if we’re not serious for more than two moments. Only happy and tranquil. We should not only be most frightfully serious, but frightfully jealous, and frightfully suspicious. Telling each ’ other frightful lies. Kisses and laughi ter and love ought not to be' so thor--5 oughly well mixed I feel sure.” And there’s another queer thing about , this 1927 love which is going to interest [ Posterity. Young men don’t bother to , stuff you up with that old over-worked j lying tale of never having loved any 3 other girl before. Far from it. They l not only give you certified net figures, 3 but full information about these previous lovesses’ reactions to life, love r and laughter. He did anyway, j It would have been positively unbearable if it hadn’t been for the laughter. And there are very few compliments 1 either. Only compliments about accomplishments. Things that wear well, and e come in useful when you’re hard up. ± “And when am I going to see you K again? To-morrow, I hope.” t ][ wondered how many women have [ thrilled to that immortal question. My watch was looking at me from > one of the corners of his eye. g “Good Eros!” I swore. "It’s to-mor-t row already! ” We sped away to different points of the compass. r It’ll be sweet—while it lasts.