Part the First—Travel

As this is directed only at Victorians, no responsibility can be accepted for alien students acting upon this article.

Initially, mountains and mountains of work are done by "Condor" McBride and "Dean" Brooker (secretary and chairman of Sports Council respectively) and their many minions. Bookings for ferries and other quaint contrivances have been pencilled in for some months, and considerable organising is done betwixt and between. So the first maxim is:

"Abuse ye not the hard-working tournament organisers when collecting tickets and other jazz."

The other jazz includes such articles as your tournament badges (if Bock and Co. have come through), etc.

Now, travelling by ferry and train can be an enjoyable experience. But go prepared.

Incidentally, the hostelries are not going to be open when we arrive in Christchurch—for we leave well before nine. So a few of the wiser ones will grub up at one of the Colombo Street hash-shops which are generally open at this hour.

About three or four p.m. you arrive at Dunedin. But meanwhile you've collected more literature from the organisers at the other end. At the station, there will be a hell of a shambles with buses to take some unfortunates to Green Island or some such place, or to mustering stations for others where billetors will be greeting them.

Anyway, five or six should see you bedded, or at least housed, somewhere. And you will probably be left wondering what on earth to do now. I hope you can think of something to do. I won't.