Mundane Musings

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 339, 26 April 1928, Page 4

Mundane Musings

Our Heroes For fear of flattering (or hurting) those sensitive beings, our Brothers, Sweethearts, and Husbands, I must say at once that this is for ladies only. (Most of us have one or the other of those sensitive beings attached to us. and though they may be as brutal to us as their pleasure dictates, we must, of course, be careful not to offend their dignity.) It matters not what magazine or story book we pick up. we will be almost certain to find the hero is confined to one of four types. The Bohemian with a colourful temperament: the selfish, married-to-his-work-and-no-time-for-his-wife man; the ultramodern, not a spark of sentiment, except for his motor-car, man; or the go-get-em, cock-o’-the-walk, take-what-1-will, he man. But (and for this may the gods be praised) we don’t really meet many men who conform rigidly to any one of these types. It would be too horrible if we did. Most of them, thank goodness, are quite normal. ordinary, hard-working beings—awful fatheads over some things, and perfect dears about others. ‘‘l can twist George round my little finger,” we are apt to say. But can we always do so? I have known George, with a little manoeuvring, to be twisted and twined in all directions nine times out of 10. and on the 10th occasion he will most unaccountably buck, and we come up against some odd notion he entertains which is altogether foreign to anything he hns ever said or done before. It may be a very trivial matter, but we find we can’t move him with threats or tears. George is not sticking to the type we suppose him to be. He has, metaphorically speaking, tripped us up. And again we should thank goodness that he has these changes of front. It must be perfectly awful to be married to an incurable, permanent "type”! Imagine always knowing beforehand exactly what he would do before he did it! Murder would have to be legal then, or life would be lifeless. I have gone home after a shopping expedition expecting to be “blown sky high” for mby extravagance, and George has said, "Well, darling, you did get some nice things!” Which speech has emboldened me to sally forth at a later date on a further expedition, expecting George to make another such remark on my return, and been greeted with: “Good Heavens, girl! I’m not a millionaire! ” But it is the little unexpected things which, our men-folk do that makes life interesting; and considering all things, I am very glad they do not live permanently up to type. I’d simply hate everlastingly to know beforehand whether I was going to be beaten, bullied, or kissed! DOROTHY LITTLE. To remove the mark made on a polished table by a hot dish, pour kerosene on the spot and rub hard with a soft cloth. Then pour on a little spirits of wine or eau-de-cologne and rub dry again with a fresh cloth. When ironing, instead of cloths use newspapers to rub the irons on; it not only saves scorching the cloths, but makes the irons beautifully smooth.