(RCSD) Idle thoughts from an Idle fellow.

IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW

I recently spent the night with an old friend whom I hadn't seen
for many years, but who is not, I hasten to add, a member of
our Society. I'd heard vaguely that he had had some
matrimonial difficulties and gone to live in a remote part of the
country. When I arrived, he made me welcome and then
disappeared, saying that he had no doubt that I would like
something to eat after my journey. In a surprisingly short space
of time, it can't have been more than a few minutes, he returned
with two plates on which were some strips of yellow fish with a
generous helping of mashed potatoes, some square, very evenly
cut slices of white bread, a triangular piece of cheese wrapped
in some transparent material and a bottle of wine.

Later, when something of our old intimacy had returned, I
asked him if he had remarried, and unless I have dreamt the
whole thing, this is what he said: 'Great Scott, yes I'm now with
No 4 - it's no good me telling you their names because you
won't remember them, but if you want to hear about it, I'll refer
to them by numbers, just like in the catalogue.

Well, No. 1 didn't last long. Looking back, I think she should
have married a chap with a camel, but even in those days I was
no Valentine, and I only mention her here as when she went off
with some fellow or other, and whilst I was still feeling a bit
gravelled, I started stamp collecting. I'd played about at it as a
boy, of course, but had never taken the thing seriously. Now,
thanks to No 1, and turning a temporary set-back to good
purpose, I found my real self.
No 1 was definitely a success.

I'm not one to cover up my mistakes, and that's precisely what
No 2 was. All she wanted to do was to run the house, which
she did very well, although I was frequently disturbed in my
work by vacuum cleaners and young women with dusters who
had to move everything in my study, which was all the space I
had at that time, from one place to another, just to show that
they were doing the job properly. Also, and worst of all, No 2
wanted to have long drawn-out meals, at precisely regular
times, over which we were supposed to actually talk to each
other for quite long times at a stretch. I must admit that I
became a bit gruff and impatient, although those were not the
adjectives she and her mother used before she returned to her
parental home.

Ever resilient, I was not slow in my response - I turned from
stamp collecting to philately. Now No 3 was a different cup of
tea altogether. Do you know, that for some years she actually
managed to get me interested in all kinds of outside things, like
art and literature, music, ballet, opera, the lot. Now these things
are all right in their own way, but they are very distracting, and
being a positive kind of chap, I quickly realised that if I was
going to succeed in my philately, which by that time had
become my occupation, my life's work so to speak, I must put
other things firmly on one side. I still have a slight regret that in
doing so, I lost No 3.

It was, of course, when No 3 went that I took up postal history.
Now with No 4 all problems are solved. She realised from the
start, that if I am to fulfil myself and produce the best that is in
me, I must have privacy as well as space, so that she is, I am
sure, quite happy to live in the attic. This gives me the two
lower floors, whilst my privacy is preserved by a very sensible
arrangement of staggered meals. The larder is stocked with all
those marvellous, modern, time-saving, instant foods and the
place, as you see, runs like clockwork. I like to meet people
half-way, and have willingly agreed that a lady from the village
should occasionally clean the kitchen quarters - after all, one
must give as well as take. I've always encouraged my wives to
have their own interests and fulfil whatever talent lurked within
them, and I'm glad to say No 4 is doing precisely that. She has
become interested in something or other, I can't remember quite
what, so I have agreed that she shall have a hut at the bottom of
the garden, which will not only give her more space, but be less
distracting for me. I expect you'd like to meet her before you
go. I don't often see her, but if you remind me before we turn
in. I'll leave a note for her on the hall table'.


In due course, and having removed a lot of old cardboard boxes
and papers from the bed in the spare room, I turned in. I'm not
sure whether it was a dream or nightmare, but I do wonder if
any of our wives ever feel like those four ladies rolled into one.

by WH.

Most philatelists take their hobby (and themselves) pretty
seriously, and the philatelic press is not the place, ordinarily, to
find humorous writing. However, even the "London Philatelist"
- journal of the world's top Society, the Royal philatelic
Society, London - unbends a little once in a while and reveals
the lighter side, as in this article which we reprint there from
with due acknowledgments.

March 1974