FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 854, 24 December 1929, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By “THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

LEST ONE FORGETS Small and mysterious, crushed like a rag: thrust, in the depths of the family stringbag ; torn from a newspaper; covered, ad lib, with strange hieroglyphics by pencil and nib: "Two lb of peanuts—p’stry for pie—- “ Bill’s usual—crackers —young Algernon's tie—"whisky for father,” and, “train for Wee Joe, —■ cards for the great-aunts” (They’re wealthy, you know). Some of the symbols are secret and queer « like: “Sprig hoi. for pud. because brandy’s too dear." But all have their meaning—the signs give the gist of Christmas requirements on one’s shopping list. DOUGHBOY TALL TURRETS Behind its now weathered scaffolding the tower of the Power Board building is slowly assuming the charming decorative motif already evident in the theme of the main facades. It is to carry a group of spires or minarets, thus being a distinctive feature of the City skyline. A couple of blocks away the framework of another tower is now rising on the remodelled T. and G. building' in Wellesley Street. This tower is to be a commanding affair, as the strength of its steel skeleton indicates. From this and other architectural developments it may he inferred that towers as architectural features are becoming popular. Within a few years the Dilworth, Vulcan Building, St. James and Civic Theatre towers, to name only four, have climbed the stairs to prominence. Others are the twin towers of the National Bank and the Smith and Caughey tower, concealing a sprinkler tank, which shows how the sublime may veil the utilitarian. Then there is the University tower, where the sublime blends with the academic, and the Salvation Army tower where the sublime in the architectural sense is not evident at all. Even now the list Is incomplete. There is the Watch Tower, where we live, browse and ruminate amid the rooftops.

OVER THE ROOFTOPS Roofs—or rooves, for that useful authority, the Oxford English Dictionary, gives us a handsome option—are really rather interesting features of a city. They are of all sorts, ages, classes and degrees. Some roofs are diligently cared for by thoughtful owners. Every now and again we see a man going up the ridges with a black broom and a tar bucket. Other rooves—we exercise our option—seem to get very little thought from their proprietors. They exhibit the marks of depreciation. They are rust stained and weather worn. The queer part of it is that some of these unpretentious surfaces cover the most pretentious buildings. Some people don’t extend their ideas of lavishness beyond the top of the parapet. They obviously cater for the man in the street, and not for people in towers. There is still another kind of roof, the flat roof, which is growing in favour. Every lunch hour the City comes out on to the flat roof to sun itself, lunch, and take a little moderate exercise. The office girls in their natty blue overalls come out and lean over the high parapets or skip about in the evolutions commanded by basket ball or deck tennis. It may be added that the roofs thus decorated are the ones we prefer. They make our tenure of the Watch Tower worth while. RABBIT FARMS In the bad old days of rabbit farming, six or seven years ago, graziers who could make no money from their flocks made up the deficiency from rabbits. More than one was thus successful in making enough money for a trip abroad, whence he an-d his wife returned in triumph, the latter decked in a fur coat that was more expensive than rabbit. The same expedients are perhaps occurring to many farmers ; now, when wool is down to a level perilously close to the cost of production. Possibly some of the old rabbit areas may hence he quietly restocked. There was a time when certain King Country stations round about dawn or in the cool of the evening were a moving mass of rabbits, but now it is rare to see more than one or two. THE HARPIES Development of a spirit of opportunism in the younger generation is indicated by the habitual raids made by youthful citizens of 12 or thereabouts upon the provender borne into various hotels in solemn procession every evening at 5 p.m. While clients of the establishment bury their noses in their beer, the raiding party enters on cautious feet. All is over in a moment. The plate that had been fragrant with steaming potato chips is rifled and bare, while outside in a handy doorway the author of the misdemeanour consumes the fruits of the raid, and perhaps dreams of the day when, as bank director, company promoter, or something equally respectable, he shall continue to fatten at the expense of a simple-minded public.