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        I tried to prepare answers by reading the copious literature he provided and found that the issues involved with pensions were more complex than I had imagined.

        Fortunately, the pensioners were kind to me.   Only about a dozen elderly men and women were seated at the far end of the bleak hall of the clubhouse.   Self-consciously, I walked towards them, my footsteps echoing on the bare boards.   I introduced myself as the A.L.P. candidate.   They greeted me politely, offered me a cup of tea and a biscuit, and continued discussing absent acquaintances.

        No questions were asked about pensions.   I drank some tea, listened for a while and invented "another pressing engagement" for an excuse to leave.

        One Sunday there was the Hospital fete to attend.   "Just go along and make sure that plenty of people see you." said Randall.

        I drove up the hill to Manly Hospital and found the back carpark covered with stalls.   Parking with some difficulty, I joined the crowd wich was circulating around the various delights of the fete.   Methodically, I visited each stall in turn, making a few modest purchaes:   An orange drink, some cake, a couple of second-hand books.   I watched the rides on the merry-go-round, bought tickets in the chocolate wheel, and inspected the workds of the local artists.  


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