IN "BLIGHTY."

Taranaki Daily News, 9 October 1917, Page 7

IN "BLIGHTY."

NEW ZEALANDER'S INTERESTING

'PEN PICTURES,

Writing to a friend, a New Zealand soldier gives some very interesting pen pictures of his impressions of England, Inter alia, he, says: We had some delay in leaving France, but at last we set foot on old England: I'd have known it was Kngland had I been drugged at the other end of the world, and found; myself deposited there upon waking. It ' was so English. I veritably believe that a lump arose in my throat, upon being confronted at the station entrance, with a hoarding displaying "Beechain's Pills." We ruslied and caught our trains (it took three of them) and as luck would have it I caught the one which was going last. .But it didn't matter—nothing mattered then: I was in Blighty. Everyone around me talked English. There were English notices in the train, and several English women serving tea on the platform, and two splendid women doing porter's work in the station. At last we were off on a, non-stop run for London. Leaving the town, miles and miles of pasture land flashed by. Little cottages in their gardens, gleaming white roads, hedges and woods, and all seemed so familiarjust the scenes we imagine, when thinking of England. We passed several towns, and at last came upon isolated suburbs, and these grew more frequent with less space in betwcefi till eventually we came upon a place where for a mile there had been no break in the houses, and we knew that we were at last on the fringe of the village. As of course wo approached from the east, we ran through the meaner portions of London. Soon we crossed a river on which wo could see bridges upon bridges, on either side, and at a certain point tall stately and towers, which no one needed to. be told were the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament. Before we liad time to look at anything else the view was cut out again, and within a few minutes we drew in at a station, which was a station, Auckland being nothing to it. On the station was a covey looking out' for peaked hats, in order to pilot them to the club. We gave him our names and he told us to wait, there until he got a few more, but he was too long, so we melted away and got a taxi to take us to Russell Square. The journey, which occupied about twelve minutes, was one of wonder, The way our driver dodged traffic was wonderful, and the way pedestrians dodged us was still more •wonderful. It seemed that the bigger the thing the more right it had to the road. We threaded in and out among buses and trams, and cyclists and foot passengers hopped out of our way on to little island refuges in the middle of tho street or on to the footpath. I don't know the route we took. I was too absorbed in watching how we took it. The cabby landed four of us safely there for half-a-crown. By the time we had booked beds and put our gear away it was after nine, and two of us, instead of having tea. at the club canteen restaurant foolishly went out in search of a restaurant. *At the club one is served by New Zealand ladies, voluntary help. At the restaurant we found we were served by a 'beastly foreigner, who ought to have been at the war, and were charged 7s lOd for a very light supper. This avp said was no. good to us, we'll go straight away and fold a common or garden grill room and have another supper, and this time a real one. We found one not very far off, served by a nice little girl, and, besides, the meal 'was larger, more quickly served, cheaper, and more satisfactory in every way. By this time it wa3 eleven o'clock and so being strangers and not knowing our way°about, we went back to the club and to bed, but not to sleep. I couldn't sleep that night for excitement. NeTt morning I was,,up early and had a civilised bath—no large vats of muddy disinfected water, no change of clothing for garments whose only wash had been a. boiling in disinfectant, but a clean civilised bath, and the club provided an absolutely new change of clothes I must tell you about our club. It is situated' in the west centre of London, within walking distance of the Strand, Covent Garden, Holborn, Tottenham Court Road, Oxford Circus, Picadilly, and Leicester Square and all those places whose names are so familiar to us. It is quite close to nil the theatres. Strand, Drury Lane, Aldwich, and all the rest of them; in fact, I find that all the principal theatres in London ar? in cr, u small locality, and so are all the principal clubs. There is a tube station at Russell Square so you see every part of London is within easy reach. The tube is by far the quickest and cheapest to travel "by, though as the buses make more frequent stops and travel along more streets they are sometimes the more convenient The trams run more on the south of the Thames. Russell Square is on the north. To get back to the club. It is run under the direction of Mr. E. H. Nolan, well I known in Taranaki, and a staff of voluntary help (New Zealand ladies) and a staff of permanently unfit men. Tho club must have financial assistance from some patriotic funds, as I should say its charges were considerably below cost. It lias two or three hundred beds, reading rooms, writing roomß, music rooms, and billiard rooms. It has a dining hall, where meals are served at regular hours at fixed prices, and, besides that, a restaurant (commonly called the canteen) where meals are obtainable a la carte the whole of the 24 hours except 7 a.m. to 9 a.m., when breakfast is on in the dining: room. The restaurant's busiest hours are 12 midnight to 3 p.m. There are also facilities for storing gear, and money, and for shaving and bail-dressing, A doctor ia also in attendance'daily, free.

.There are those who think that Cornwall is the cream place—but they are wrong. Well, spending one and a-lialf glorious days there I left on the second morning en route for Cardiff, via Exeter, Bristol and the Severn tunnel. At Exeter, I forsook the London B.W. line for the Oreat Western, and the latter is "some" railway, I can tell you. I enjoyed the run down, because a lady broke the reserve of the compartment by proffering me what she called "west country hospitality" in tV shape of coffee a. la thermos' flask. This set the whole carriage talking, and very shortly a young woman, dressed 111 black, at my side volunteered the information tlmt she had just been left a war widow, and, upon my expressing'sympathy, she plunged into details, and later rather embarrassed me by drawing forth from her bag and showing me several documents dealing with her late husband's military ami married career. Still, it served to pass the time, and very shortly •Bristol hove in sight. However, being rather chary of widows. I was rather relieved when I found I had to change at Bristol and she had not. From them ( reached Cardiff i;i an hour. As it happened, my friend, Bishop Crossley, was

just leaving in another train for a place a little way out and had-,sent his housekeeper (Mrs. Crossley being iii London) to meet me and if possible hurry me round in a taxi to the other station and put me on the same train in older that I might go out with him. As it 'happened, I was Just too late, so I was 'taken to the house, given tea then taken out and shown round Cardiff and generally entertained until the Bishop returned that evening. Cardiff has a population of about 500,000, so you see it's "no slouch" of a town, and held nearly as many wonders for me as did London. At last the liishop returned, and he was as pleased to see me as 1 was to see him. We sat and talked far into the next morning. The next day, at my request, we went to see some steel works. 1 did not know at the time ol' asking that there would be any difficulty about it. but it seems that as all these works are making war materials, they have to be very careful whom they let through, but it seems that the Bishop's name and my uniform were sufficient guarantee, and, more than that, the firm whom we rang ■up to find out how wo should go about visiting a steel works, insisted on taking everything out o( our hands, and not only wrote out letters of introduction to two large firms, but sent their car to take us round. Of course, we had intended seeing but one of the works in Cardiff, but they also took us to some ■steel rolling mills 24 miles out. So I was lukcy, wasn't I? We saw the whole process right through—the ore, the monstrous blast furnaces out of which the pig iron ran in rivers of fire, the steel furnaces where the meta{ (looked at through blue glass®) could be been boiling likewater, and the fiery gases rising off it like an inferno. We saw the steel ingots heated a white heat, and rolled like pastry into smooth flat plates to within our thousandth, part of an inch of the thickness specified, and we saw huge magnetic cranes lifting tons of iron as if they were but needles. From the further out mill we drove home a round about way through the wonderful Welsh lanes and scenery. To describe its beauty wquld be impossible. You ■jnust come over and see it for vourself.

The .'next niorping I -returned to London, and there . met mv brother at the club—"the first time I had seen him for 3J years. We found each other very little changed. Of course with him to guide me. London assumed a very different hue, and the two and a half days which followed were one round of sightseeing and theatres. Of the theatres I enjoyed best of all the play "Wanted a Husband," bv Gladys Cooper and Frank Curzon (she is glorious!) and the musical comedy, "Chu Chin Chow." by Oscar Asche and Lily Brayton. We saw the tower bridge and the tower. The crown is a most beautiful thing. It is entirely covered with small diamonds and has a 'great, ruby in the centre. The covering of diamonds gives it a light and delicate effect although its weight is worse than 'that of a tin hat. We then went on to 'the Mansion House (the Lord Mayor's residence), and I must say it is in very ■uncongenial surroundings, being opposite the Bank and in the centre of the most out and out business part of London. Still, it was very nice inside, and the old covey who showed us round wasn't backward in coining forward for the tip. From there we cut across to the Guildhall, The chief interest there was tho picture gallery. From there we whizzed round to St. Paul's and saw it even to its very vaults, where we encountered, ■among other memorials, a bust of Richard John Seddon and a tablet to Sir John Goss, one time organist of the above church. It was all too wonderful to appreciate in the short time we had. One will always enjoy one's second visit infinitely more. That's why I'm peering ahead to try to discern my next leave. -We went to a matinee in the afternoon and a theatre at night. The next day was my last day. On this day I shopped in the morning, and the two of us went for a walk in Hyde Park in the afternoon.

The one blot on the scene was the number of beastly Belgians, with young ladies, sitting in the Park and under the trees. By jove, I can't stand those Belgians and am sorry I ever subscribed to that noble cause, "The Belgium Relief Fund." The people in England are now beginning to wake up to what the Belgians really are. We went for a row on the Serpentine, and along the edges encountered many willows from which the bow of a boat was just protruding and also from which came numerous soft sounds. Also in the lake were numerous boats with khaki and silk in thorn, and occasionally a hospital blue and the siik rowing. Jt was all very nice. My brother introduced me to Lyon's .restaurants. They are all over London, and principally on corners,' when they are called "Lyon's Corner Houses," but otherwise they are "'Lyon's Maisons." We principally patronised the Charing Cross Corner House, and the waitress at the left back end of the third floor. Lyon's restaurants are the restaurants of the, great London public. Tl\ey are not Kitzs or Carltons; neither are they East End eating houses. They are ordinarily good, well appointed restaurants, and, by jove, didn't I enjoy the meals there! While I thjnk of it, I fliink 1 remembet you once remarking qh the pretty accent which well trained English children have. I was very struck with it over here, especially two little boys 1 met in the train. They spoke so perfectly, with just the slightest touch of that accentwhich so many pcoplo endeavor to imitate, and cannot do so without affectation. That accent, spoken even by grown ups, without affectation, is very charming indeed. It again is so English. The last night's theatre was spoilt by the feeling that it was the last night, that I was leaving this world of music, beauty, of civilisation, 0/ freedom, of England, leaving it for bondage, harsh'ness, priniitiveness. Next morning we rose early, ate our breakfast, and I don- I lied my equipment, pack, and rifle —oh! how that hurt! —thrusl my packet of sandwiches into my pocket, and went to the tube. My brother saw me off at the station and gradually London drew away and the pill adverts, grew fewer and fewer, and at last the train drew into a station. Within ten minutes we were in an enclosure with barbed wire round it.

No. These are not kisses, they are merely asterisks representing the cutting oil' from the one life, and the return to ibe other—if you can call it a life. I took refuge in writing and just before I finished we bad to fall in. Folkestone, Later.

Excuse me plensp, but I have spent two hours in hell and certify, it is not , fire devils dark or anything, but Folkestone "rest" camp after ten days' leave. A few hours ago I was a peaceful, free man; free to wander as I pleased, do as I chose, say as I wished. Then I stepped into a train in London, and after only too short a run through what is known as the garden of England, I stepped off the train at Folkestone into the arm of the army. "Itedcaps" received us. mid conducted us to the Folkestone "rest camp." Just outoide is Folkestone., a

beautiful free English city, hut it is as far off and impossible as New Zealand. -Every gap in"the camp bounds has either ia barbed wire entanglement or a "redcap" in it. In a few hours those red caps will he off duty, and roaming the (streets oi Folkestone, and they will do it to-morrow too, and the next day, and the day after and for weeks and months, never thinking, and caring lets, about those who liavo to cross over, who go I back to war and loneliness. Oh, we do love the redcaps! Surely one would think that when men have voluntarily reported after ten days' leave, and the steamer isn't ready to go out, that they could be trusted to present themselves by sailing hour, and not have to be placed in a camp with barbed wire and police 'around them. There is not one of us v/iio is not eager to get back to the front. We are at least reasonably free there. Wo are not herded into barbed wire enclosures.