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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 9, Issue 9 (December 1, 1934)

Caper Sauce

Caper Sauce.

Mortgagee and mortgagor caper on the festive floor; man and master in the revel, meet upon a common level. Money Owed and Money Lent merge themselves in Money Spent. Business worries pout and pore safe behind the strong-room door. Man recaptures Rhyme and Reason in the Christmas festive season. Daily Grind and Dull Routine, Dismal Duty long and lean, Weary Worry, Anxious Care, get the go-by once a year. Man lifts up his voice to roar, “In your hat!” and slams the door.

Christmas is more than a decimal of Duration, more than a crumb dropped from Time's short-bread; it is an emotion, a mental potion, a sun-spot on the brain. At Christmas you can have your cake and eat it too. The recipe is age-old, thus:

“Take a mindful of the essence of good-fellowship, add a skinful of the spirit of festivity, mix with a cup brimming over with the milk of human kindness, stir in a thought for everybody you know, beat in the best of your ego, add a spice of fun, a peck of philosophy, the fruits of experience, the spirit of freedom, the joy of Release, the essence of Life, the blessing of digestion, and the appreciation of what you've got (whatever it may be). When the mixture is well and truly made let it boil over on the fires of Enthusiasm. Serve piping hot to all and sundry—and leave the rest to Nature.