FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 941, 7 April 1930, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sy “THE LOOK-OUT MAN."

SOMETHING NEW Auckland hostesses have formed a “Less Luxurious Tea Club.” I’ve heard of the M.C.C. Club. It’s colours are known to fame, I And the Northern, of course, that’s the club, Or so its members claim. The jovial A.C.T. Club Attracts commercial guns. While the sociable Hollow Tree Club Enrols their little ones. About the Reforming Flea Club Perhaps you may have heard— The Smitten-by-Housemaid’s-Knee Club Is equally absurd. Big, medium and wee club, They’re all of them strange, but true, But the Less Luxurious Tea Club I must confess, is new. WELL-EQ UIPPED Mr. W. A. Donald, the United candidate for the Parnell seat, is a Rugby football addict, and though past his playing days, has witnessed many of the important matches in England in recent years, and knows the strength and weakness of the English players intimately. In view of the approaching visit of the British Rugby team, the electors of Parnell will be failing in their patriotic duty if they do not elect Mr. Donald unopposed. He would then have a mandate to go straight into the Cabinet as Minister df Rugby Football, and would be a tower of strength to the Government in the strenuous winter ahead. AMATEUR COOKS A London newspaper sent to us marked the other day contained the interesting intelligence that the latest whimsy of young bloods in the Heart of the Empire is a passion for cooking. Instead of shuddering as heretofore at the idea of cooking potatoes, frying sausages, or even boiling an egg, they are said to be concocting dainty dishes and entertaining their friends at dinner parties which emphasises their culinary skill. This sort of thing reads well. Every Auckland bachelor and yachtsman who has set out with dreams of conquest has in his day cooked ambitious dishes. But always they come back to the same thing. The London lads will learn it. too. There is nothing like the egg. SO THIS IS QUIET! If the New Zealand Rugby Union and the New Zealand Radio Broadcasting Company knew what pleasure thousands of patients in hospitals and sanatoria derive from the broadcast accounts of important sporting events, there would be no doubt for a moment as to whether or not the matches with the British Rugby team should be put on the air. Nevertheless, there is possibly some unconscious humour in the quoted view of soldier invalids in •the Pukeora Sanatorium: “We have to rest in absolute quietness on our beds from 3.45 to 4.45 p.m. We have permission from the medical superintendent to have the radio on. As the news of the recent Sarron-Donovan fight came over, excitement was as rife as if the ? fight were taking place in front of And, in accordance with medical directions, all was absolutely quiet on the Pukeora front! HANDY AID One of the minor problems of making up a column of printed matter is making it fit. Even the trustiest typewritter deceives one at times, and the column on such occasions may be a few lines short or a few lines over. There are usually ways and means of overcoming these difficulties, but venerable printers will recall that in the old days the devices were more transparent than today. One of them presented us with a good tip the other day, and now if readers ever come across a little couplet like this: “These two lines, that look so solemn Were put in here to fill up the column,” they will know that the worst has happened. PIED PAPER The hazards of printing have diminished since the desperate days of hand-setting, but it is still possible to “pie” a column of type by dropping what compositors call the galley on to the floor. In such circumstances the staff gathers round in an atmosphere of holy quiet and busies itself witji the process of picking up the pieces and restoring order. But even a calamity like this is not as bad as it once was. In the dark old days before machines supplanted the nimblefingered compositor the letters were on single stalks, as they were in Caxton’s day, and not cast into a metal line. Hence when a column was “pied” not only the lines, but also the words and letters fell into confusion. It is on record that just as a paper was going to Press the last half-column was irrevocably pied. But the printer was ingenious. He just bundled the unintelligible mess into the forme, put over it a heading, “Latest news from Russia,” and the paper came out on time.