Clothes Cautious

Recent predictions that the coming thing for the sartorially correct male will include stovepipe pants and string ties have the guns banging for and against.

Two predictions look safe: 1. Most University men will continue to favour the shaggy, baggy look; 2. The majority of Kiwis will wait in the wings to see what happens before stepping out with caution and self-consciousness. Ah, bold men! Apparently, anyone wishing to be first in future fashions will have to keep an eye on the "Teds" and other maligned sections of society. There's something silly somewhere.

Terms Arranged

While the property scramble continues unabated round Wellington's precipitous heights, estate agents employ a sales language we may soon need a glossary to follow. Some of the "mature" homes they advertise appear to date from the days when A. Tasman was casing the joint, and it wouldn't be surprising to find some of the "older" houses furnished with the artefacts of Moa-hunters.

Willis Streetniks

Wellington has its quota of Beatniks whether they're so called or not. Sometimes they are given less pleasant but more familiar names by muscular athletes and other pillars of society. And occasionally they run up against earnest young policemen. Yet funnily enough, they occasionally achieve some success in their creative efforts, and in their hunting for odd things like the meaning of it all.

Holding The Booby

Now the air has cleared after the Federation of Labour's dust up an odd aspect emerges from the debris. Mr. Neary gets his libel money, Mr. Walsh still has his farm, the engineers defect, and old Overtime Joe—the average union bod—appears to be holding the baby. It looks as if he's the only one who hasn't come out of it all right Jack.

Fat and Florid

A generally perceptive recent immigrant from the U.K. thinks: New Zealand men (pakehas) seem to be heftier and more ruddy complexioned than most blokes back home. Hair colour here, too, is often "vaguer," dry-grass brown being the usual thing.

His observation has produced some intriguing theories about diet and the effect of exposure to a fiercer sun in four generations.

One fourth generation retort: Maybe it's just that our faces get red when there are Pommies about ... for one reason or another.

Lakes—For Jumping in

A sure way to get pounced on in the correspondence columns in this country is to announce that you're going to set up an industry at a scenic spot.

Well, what does this country really need more—industry or scenic spots?

[Contributions from readers are invited.]