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Aviation History
1913
1913 - 0510.PDF
I/PCHT] MAY 17, 1913. AHMC1AIE REFILE< IS. The Humorous Scot. WHEN, recently, I spoke of "inches" I said I had no doubt my ignorance as to what they were would soon be removed, and it is even so. In my fear I had this week at first thought of saying that I knew perfectly well what " inches " were all the time, but, on second thoughts, I can plainly see that this would only make matters more com plicated. To take only one of the letters I have received, " Perthite " writes to tell me that an " inch " is a park, and a skating pond an open field, so, now it is explained, everybody should be happy. It only shows how careful the "canny Scot " is when dealing with these air-fellows. Give them an inch, and they'll take a park. I believe the Irish mile has got something to answer for in the shape of measurements, but, when it comes to real business, Scotland has it every time. Evidently the metric system is not likely to invade these shores at present. England, it seems to me, has got something to explain also. As a boy at school I used to be worried over " rod, pole, or perch," with a few " chains " thrown in as makeweight, and could never understand why vards and miles were not good enough for lineal measurements, though I knew what an acre was :— An acre is a little boy, who takes a pole to catch A perch, and gets a rod instead—across his little patch ! I am not altogether certain—even after reading " Perthite's " letter again—whether inches only apply to parks, or if they would also be used in reference to a patch, but if an "inch " is a park and a patch is three by two, that little boy is very pleased he did not live in Scotland. " It's the last time, Phenel, my boy." Those who were lucky enough to see poor Terry in " Sweet Lavender" will remember that Terry as "Phenel" was rather given to the cup that cheers, but could see the error of his ways, and was for ever taking his final drink. I do not know what it was he drank from the bottle, but like the operatic singer there were many farewells, each time excusing himself by saying it was the last time. It may have be. n " Scotch " or it may not, but in my case it is. Gentle reader, I intend never to touch " Scotch " again (in these columns). In a misguided moment I ventured to state that I was not quite sure whether a Scotsman could see a joke or not. I know now. I hope that having explained that an inch is a park, that this is the end of it, but in order 10 appease the few Scotsmen that have not written to me, I hasten to add that although they call an open field a skating pond, it is only a pond in winter time, and, to still further please them, I don't mind admitting that we have the same sort of places, only we call them aerodromes. Overheard on the 'Phone (receiving end). Helloa—Helloa—Yes, I'm Brown—Oh, is that you, Harry—Good morning—Yes, I thought of going out there this afternoon—Oh, start about two—Oh yes, there's sure to be some flying—Yes, I know, but there's Verrier and Turner and several others, you know—Yes, so do I, but they can't help it, you know—So they would if they'd got anything to fly—Yes, my dear chap, I know, but how can they if they haven't got a machine ?— So they had, but they've sold them all—Oh yes, no doubt they will, but they haven't got any at present—Oh he's a smart business man, and doesn't want any advice By THE DREAMER. from me. No doubt he will get some soon—Oh, they just hang about and watch the others—Yes they are, I think, they don't look at all pleased, anyhow—Well, they advertise competitions in the hope that they will be able to get up something between the others—Pay your money? Yes, I know—Yes, so did I, and I thought this year would be even better, but there hasn't been much yet—Do you ? Oh, I don't. I never get tired of seeing him fly, though, as you say, I certainly should like to see some racing—What did they do it for? Well, they had to. Wouldn't you sell if you had the chance ?— Yes, I know people are beginning to talk, and I am afraid they will do themselves a lot of harm if they don't soon get some and get back into the old style again— Hucks ? Oh yes, he's doing quite a lot, I believe—Yes, he gives exhibition flights, you know—Oh yes, I have no doubt he would if they paid him—Yes, so should I. I used to enjoy seeing him on the old number sixteen— Yes, they were good times, weren't they ? Well perhaps they will come again—Yes, that's right, old chap, do, come and have some lunch with me and we'll go out together, we're sure to see some good flying anyway, and I'm going to stick to them for a bit—Good-bye, old chap—What?—Yes, one-thirty sharp—Good-bye. To be or not to be. When I persuaded a kind editor some few weeks ago to let me have this page in which to write irresponsible nothings, I set out to try and be somewhat humorous, or, at any rate, to treat things lightly, but it has gradually been dawning upon me that I have been at times rather serious, and I am not quite sure in my own mind whether I am doing the right thing or not I suppose after all, however, a man is but a creature of moods, and must write as he feels, and sometimes when I am not in a merry mood I feel as though I want to be a father to you all and deal out wisdom in big spoonfuls like brimstone and treacle, knowing that it will do you good though you don't like the taste. After all, you know, the world is made up of sorrow and sunshine, and without the sorrow sometimes we should not appreciate the sunshine. I write this, however, to please you, and if I am giving you too much brimstone and not enough treacle, just write and let me know, and I will promise to reduce the dose in future. Speaking of writing, I have had one or two letters lately from readers of FLIGHT asking me to write to them and disclose my identity, but you don't catch me napping like that; oh no. I am not at all sure on which side of the hedge I happen to be, and although it is just possible that they only want to shake me by the, hand, it is also quite probable that they have something entirely different in store for me, and as I have no particular wish to die young, even though I know I am good, I prefer, at the present at any rate, to travel incog. I believe, from what I have heard, that the advertisements in the "agony column" are not always what they appear to be, and that when " Harry " turns up thinking that " all will be forgiven " or that he " will hear of something to his advantage " he sometimes finds himself in a very warm quarter. I am a "dreamer," I know, but I can dream quite well, thank you, without being put to sleep from the boxer's point of view; so, if you have got anything to say, please write to me, care of the editor. I shall be just as pleased, and it will be far more safe. S3?
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