BILL'S CUP OF TEA

New Zealand Listener, Volume 32, Issue 824, 13 May 1955, Page 24

BILL'S CUP OF TEA

by

DESMOND

STONE

O appreciate Bill’s particular quality of stubbornness, it is necessary to know that he was the only one of his company to arrive in Crete with his rifle. All his cobbers had _jettisoned their arms. at various stages of the withdrawal from Greece, and no one dreamt of reproaching them. They were lucky to be getting away with their lives. But Bill had made up his mind. No ruddy German was going to make Aim lay down his rifle. He was going to take it with him, and that was that.

When Bill returned to New Zealand, it was with the jutting jaw and aggressive gait of a man who had done his bit and was going to insist on his -full democratic rights, or look out. No one would take him for a ride, and no one would put anything across him. He was very sensitive, was Bill, to slight and wrong; and fiery in his demands for redress. In the course of time Bill got married and, in the true New Zealand tradition of honeymooners, made an extensive and exhausting tour of both islands. He was on his way home in the Auck-land-Wellington Limited, and in spite of the travail of the journey he still bore something of that band-box appearance for which he was noted. The train had stopped at a’ refreshment centre and Bill had emerged triumphant from the scramble with two steaming cups of tea,and a plate of formidable sandwiches. Using some pretty footwork, he boarded’ the train without spilling a drop and sat down in his seat with an understandable air of achievement. . "There you are, dear," he said to his wife, handing her a cup, "not .a bad performance." Unfortunately for Bill, the engine chose that particular moment to arrive back from taking on water. Perhaps the driver misjudged his speed, or he may have had words that day with his wife. Whatever the reason, the engine announced its return with ‘a jolt. In Carriage Z, Seat number 52, Bill was balancing his tea on his knee when the crash came. He was given no chance at all. .Over went the cup and out poured the tea in a swift cascading pepe Bill’s beautifully-creased sports trousers got the lot, the tea spreading into two very arge, very wet, and very embarrassing stains. It was not, by ordinary standards, a disaster. Overturned cups were as much part of the accepted hazards of railway travel as suitcases dislodged from the luggage rack. It was- certainly occasion for lamenting, for an oath or two, and perhaps for’ an empty threat to do something about it. But Bill was not made of ordinary metal. For a moment he just stood there, looking down dully at his sodden flannels. Then the extent of the catastrophe dawned upon him. All his other . |

trousers were in the checked luggage on their way to the South Island, and he still had a day to put in in Wellington. Anger rose up in Bill at that moment like mercury in a tube, and enveloped him in a steaming cloud. He was so mad that he threatened to’ burst into flames. Without a ward or a backward glance, he marched straight out of the carriage and along the platform to the panting engine. A constable who knew naked fury when he saw it followed at a distance. With the same unconquerable resolve with which he had made his bayonet charges, Bill leapt up on to the footplate and clapped a heavy hand on the engine driver’s shoulders. "What in the hell do you think you’re driving?" he roared. "A bulldozer?" Like a captain surprised on his bridge, the driver stared speechless at Bill. Never in 40 years had a passenger invaded the footplate. "Look, look,’ stormed Bill. "Look what you’ve done to my trousers, I'll sue you for this. I’ll sue if it costs me my last penny." Bill .was still erupting when he returned to the carriage and all his wife’s words of comfort were swept away in the lava flows. "Of course I can get them drycleaned," he snorted, "And what am I going to do in Wellington in the meantime? Cower in my bedroom all day in my underpants? No, there’s nothing el for it. I'll have to get a new pair. An the Railways will pay for them." All the rest of the — home Bill | kept muttering and vowing vengeance. A lot of travellers had done the same thing in their time. But most of them were like the people who were always going to write to the papers and who never got around to it. Bill was different. He had carried his rifle to Crete. He never let up and he never let go. So the very first thing he did when he got home was to write a passionate letter to the Railways claiming the price of his new trousers. The Railways, when they wrote back, expressed their regret. They were sorry if he had suffered any inconvenience. But, really, they could accept no responsibility. Bill was still very angry. (continued on next page) —

(continued from previous page) He wrote to the local office, he sent wires to the head office and he went in the end to see his M.P. But the M.P., who had left his rifle in Greece, was not: very helpful. The trousers had not been ruined, he pointed out, so he could hardly claim for a new pair. And besides, any man who took only one pair of trousers on his honeymoon was asking for trouble. Which set Bill explaining all over again about the trousers that had gone on in the checked luggage. But the M.P. and the Railways were both firm on the point, so Bill had to give way. But he was not finished. Oh, no. If he couldn’t get the price of the new trousers, he would recover the cost of dry-cleaning the old. So with that indomitable bulldog pugnacity of his, he plunged again into battle. The Railways would pay him 5/- for the drycleaning, or he would take the case to the highest court in the land. After weeks of negotiation, victory came at last. The Railways agreed -to pay. Bill was filled with a deep satisfaction. As he told his wife, it never paid to let people get away with things. A man should always stand on his rights. Bill’s wife was inclined to disagree. To get his 5/- from the Railways, she pointed out, it had cost him exactly 5/6 -made up of two telegrams amounting to 2/9, a toll call at 1/3, and postage stamps to the value of 1/6. Where was his victory now? But Bill was stubborn to the last. "The principle’s the thing," he told her. "A man must stick up for his rights. Otherwise where would we be?" And where, he might have added, would they have been without Bill’s rifle in the Battle of Crete?

E. BEE (Pukemiro): It is possible that a realignment of the receiver would help to give a better separation of the stations, but the poor selectivity shown by this relatively low-priced receiver at the high frequency end of the broadcast band is likely to be inherent. The use of a wave trap is unlikely to be helpful. A wave trap is most sited for preventing a strong local station from causing interference. when the receiver is tuned to a distant station. INTERESTED READER (Southland): If your receiving set has been left on when your local station has gone off the air, the noise you hear is generated by electrical storms and by imperfect electrical machinery. The primary service area-that is, the area within which noise-free, non-fading reception should be possible-extends 50-100 miles from a broadcasting station. Beyond that range the signal strength is low, fading may occur, and noise is likely to be noticeable,