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[Page 9]
-8-
I asked, "No, 129". So it was not so bad.
I did not intend to tell of my first fog experience, but a lady at my table related how she, after eight years, had mistaken her house and pulled at the bell of 129, so I felt that there was no disgrace in my blunder and when next day the papers told us it was the worst fog for forty years, I felt quite proud of my achievement.
PART 3.
Every day brought a new interest and there were many links with Australia.
The Colonel, who left in charge of the troops on the big "Medic" that day with my younger son on Board, came to see me during the week, and as he was remaining in England to do Instructural duty, I had many pleasant chats afterwards.
That first week Ron rang one night to say he was starting his cadet course for the R.F.C. and en route for his new school at Denham. We spent that evening at the Collesium, [Coliseum] where my cousin, known in Stage-land as Fred. Lindsay, was doing his Australian turn which has made him famous as the Whip king.
It seemed almost uncanny to be sitting in that magnificient building, of which I had heard so much, watching my Kinsman's performance.
I had not seen him for fourteen years but would have recognised him easily from pictures I had seen in Magazines. The setting was a bush one, truly Australian, with stock riders stretched on the ground, a camp fire newly lighted, the sun just rising, and the birds warbling. My cousin in his corduroys and his bushman's shirt and hat, though older, looked very handsome and a perfect specimen of Australian manhood. His prowess with the whips of varying size and length was quite wonderful, as he tied up his assistant; knocked ashes