A Few Celebrities

Jenny: unafraid to pit her naive under-grad. wisdom against the assured conceit of the intellectuals.

Mitch: with five women in one bunk. (I can produce 20 witnesses!)

John H.: asked what he did Sat. night: "Well, I don't remember much!"

Liz.: "Oh! is this one of those?" — holding up a contact-lens case.

Paul: acting queerly all weekend.

David: What did happen to his shoes?

Caroline: in difficulties? Surrounded by a dozen or so pseudo psychiatrists all eager to try out conflicting theories.

Tony K.: "I want to make a shpeech!"

Mel.: "Say for once in his life Stone behaved himself!" Sorry. Mel, but I can't help remembering the four unexplained girls' handkerchiefs found in Stone's hut Sunday morning

Cathy: "I know I'm right but I don't see why. Somebody's gone and mixed me up!"

Dr. G's diabolical attempts to corrupt the innocent frustrated!

C. & M.: (Two girls who spent Friday night in boys' Hut No. 19): "Honestly, it was purely platonic. We talked about why we write poetry, and whether God could be red and green all over!"

Cook: "I was in the Army and I know,"'(recommending rationing).

Elaine: We never knew Elaine spoke Russian before!

Anon. Male: imitating a notorious Mr Moon: "There comes a time in all good parties for someone to drop his tweeds!"

Tony P.: "Don't think I'm complaining because it's my bed, but if I could just lie underneath you!"

Steve: "O'Regan puts his brain into neutral and lets his tongue roll on!" (Quoting Liz—by the way, who stole the sign from the railway?)

Marietta: on Little Congress: "Now I know!"

John P.: venting his frustration on all that was available—a poor little innocent child's cot in Hut 24!

Fludie: feeling maudlin and surrounded by women whose mother love asserted itself. What a gimmick!

Caretaker: He actually swallowed the yarn that we only drank half a bottle a head!

John I.: "When you're playing table-tennis and you see three balls coming at you—hit the middle one!"

Gay: "The reason Val and I got married was because ..."

Val: "for those with dirty minds, we have as yet no children."

Finally, coming home in the arctic—the amoral types sang doubtful ditties to the moral types, who listened all agog, the "Aphabet" was recited right to the bitter end, the Cookie-Bird song was demonstrated and we finished up with the inevitable Extrav. Finale without which no social event would be complete!

• Mon. I slept.
• Tue. I slept.
• Wed. I woke up.

And I thought "Hurray for Little Congresses!" and went into hibernation in the Common Common room, until Little Congress No. 3!

See you there, everyone.

—Cathy.