"Smad" sat in the University Oval stand during the Athletics and listened to its teeth rattling like anything. Occasionally, before we were quite petrified by the cold and were unable to, we laughed in company with everyone else at the absurdities of a tall, dark, ex-announcer who was making wonderful uncensored play with a loud-speaker. We looked enviously at the O.U. haka party, for although they wee scantily clad, we knew that, unlike ourselves, they were provided with ample liquid fortification against the freezing elements.

We looked out from time to time at the track, and saw brave souls battling against the wind, and once we laid a wager on a dog which was holding Cabot to a very close walking contest. But the dog gave up out of pure cursedness and we lost our money.

Then an old Indian custom (see announcer) hopped, stepped and jumped, and one Boot went round the course by itself and ran second. We saw the three miles race commence and then went down under the stand (for afternoon tea, of course). When we came back some hours later the three miles was still on, so we asked a policeman where we were. But he said it was all right and just then the three miles stopped and we felt better again. It must have been the tea.

Much earlier someone had thrown the hammer right at the loud-speaker man's head, but they soon got another hammer and carried on.

The Usual Finish.

The high jump was a most exciting contest. Hackett, the champion, couldn't go on because the got water on the knee or something. But McIntosh, who hadn't had any beer at all, was all right, so he won it. He had to beat some others, of course, but that was the easiest part.

After, seeing Howden dead-heat with Boot in the relay, we went home the longest way and had a breakdown just near a hotel. We found two million people there who'd had a breakdown, too, so we didn't feel lonely. Not that that would have mattered.

It was, we subsequently decided, a very fine athletic meeting. This was, of course, after the breakdown had been fixed up.

1936

In 1936 Tournament will be held in Wellington. Those who went to Dunedin will know what this means—a mass of concentrated effort to repay our late hosts for their super hospitality. We would remind freshers that they will be eligible for the sports, and it will be up to them to help in getting rid of those wooden spoons and in proving that what Otago can de for its guests, so no less can Victoria. It will mean hard work, but it will be worth it.