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SMAD. An Organ of Student Opinion. 1931. Volume 2. Number 4.

A Bachelor's Complaint

A Bachelor's Complaint

The Palm Court,

1st July, 1931.

Dear "Smad"—

As occupant of one of those cubicies, soon to bo abolished, into which the old Men's Common Room has been divided, may I draw attention to the singular transformation which has recently befallen my particular selection? From being a place of utter desolation, it has suddenly, splendidly taken on the aspect or a perfect Kew Garden or conservatory of ferns and flowers. Pansies swim in saucers upon the table; cinerarias, cosmos, daisies, marigolds, etc., line the shelves and cupboards in fine profusion; while a stately column near the door (if it is not that it is at least a very substantial drain-pipe) is surmounted by an example, only one of many, of New Zealand's "fronded flora."

But that is not all. My room, once the resort of cold officialdom only, has with equal suddenness become the recognised rendezvous of all the eminence and elegance of the community. Professors, lecturers, students, the girls from the office, Brook, Pritchard, Strawbridge, all come, gaze in mingled astonishment and admiration, and depart burning with envy. The number of those wishing to borrow books, or to receive instruction on abstruse points of philology, has reached quite laughable limits. Others again come bearing gifts calculated to add to the attractions of the place—fauna for the flora, fertilisers, visitors' books, etc.; so that my time is almost equally divided between receiving guests and watering the exhibits. At the moment there is a lull (the show-pieces, for instance, have fallen in number from eighteen to eight), but far from relieving my natural feelings of apprehension, this circumstance has, if anything, increased them. The last decorative effects were in holly, and it is impossible not to be reminded that the transition from this to mistletoe is, well—er—embracingly slight. As a last resort then I am appealing to you that you may use what influence you have to check a tender persecution which, I protest, I have done nothing to merit, and which, if continued, will doubtless lead to the speedy expiration (albeit in "flowery-bowery" loveliness) of

Your Confirmed Friend and Admirer,

Its Custodian.