Mundane Musings

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 326, 11 April 1928, Page 4

Mundane Musings

Pests (Written for THE SUN) It is a strange thing that the minor worries of life have such power to annoy and irritate us, while the larger troubles can be dealt with calmly, settled happily to our satisfaction, and pigeon-holed in our memory: but I defy anyone to deal with some of tin* smaller annoyances, such as pests. Bv pests I do not mean caterpillars, locusts, -ants, or beetles—l mean human pests: And the best specimen of these pests may be found in vehicles plying for public hire. Bitterly. and with rising ire do I voice my lament . . . What can you do to the pest who, having been fortunate enough to gain the sanctuary of the inner side of the seat, planks a great parcel between himself and the wall of the vehicle, thereby ousting you from your fair portion of said seat? You may push, shove, grunt, wriggle and glare, but 'you won’t get another inch of seat. That parcel is a fixture for the duration of the journey.

How can you deal with the pest who spreads his newspaper all over you? Sublimely unconscious, he turns over page after page, menacing your face with his fist each time. You can’t very well punch a hole in his paper, and you can’t ask him to stop reading it.

Then there is the pest with the sticky infant. The poor harassed infant is dumped down on her knee, and threatened with violence if it dares to • get down.” In all probability it does not get down, but it probably does wipe its little boots on your dress. Here again you are foiled—you can’t thump the child, and you’ can’t ask its mother to make it stand, so you take all the dust from Grades boots’home on your dress.

And what, oh what, can you do with the strap-hanging pest, who uses your shoulder to right himself whenever the vehicle sways him one way or another? He sits on your shoulder, bashes your hat, twists your neck, and with a nonchalant “Sorry, Miss!” he goes on a walking tour over your corns. If you are so unfortunate as to travel far with him he becomes an ogre menacing your mentality. He becomes fixed in your mind. “Where will he bash me next?” is the engrossing thought—and, to settle the question, he leans forward to allow another passenger to pass him, pushes a parcel of fish under your nose, and in regaining his equilibrium he gives you a prod in the cheek with a book! Give me ants, beetles, caterpillars, locusts (or even insurance agents), but preserve me from the strap-hanging pest! There is just one other kind of pest, and this is the sewing pest. This animal calmly drapes her’ sewing over your knee, and proceeds to imperil the safety of your near eye with her needle and thread. . . . But, there, the less said about her the better, for (be it murmured very softly), I am one of these! DOROTHY LITTLE.