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THE BRUSSELS POST MAY 17, 1978 15
J. L. McCUTCHEON
Chev.
MOTORS
Bru'ssels 887-6856 Olds.
Reconditioned and
Safety Checked for
your driving pleasure
1976 OLDS 98
2 d. H.T. Fully powered
1976 CHEV IMPALA CUSTOM
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1974 IMPALA STATION WAGON
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1974 CHEV VEGA NOTCHBACK
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1976 CHEV 1/2 TON PICK-UP
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1975 CHEV 1/2 TON
:with Topper.
Stratford Fativah-978
"lfyou love great plays, well done;
there is nothing in North America
to match the Stratford Festival."
Elliott Norton,
Boston Herald American
To receive our free brochure containing complete information
on all 18 productions in our 1978 season write to
Publicity Department, Festival Theatre
Stratford, Ontario, Canada NSA 6V2
Long distance to Stratford
(519) 2734600 26th Season
Calkdr
to()('toberri
Poet 1'. S. Eliot once wrote: "April is the
cruellest month," 1 don't know about that —
November Is no slouch in this country. when it
.comes to cruelty — but April is certainly no.
bargain around here,
It's a sort of zilch month. All the other
months. have some character, except a fore
said November. They're either something to
make you look forward with anticipation.
backward with relief. or to just plain enjoy.
May is golf and fishing and grass greening
and flowers blooming. June is the first heat
wave, lilac scent, mosquitoes, and summer
just ahead. July and August are summei' in all
its glory, hot dogs, swimming, camping.
baseball, trips, summer theatre. family
reunions, cottaging.
September is a glorious month, usually.
Warm enough: everybody getting back into
the groove, new schoolmates, new interests,
new friends, new follies to commit oneself to.
October is great: sharp air, fresh produce,
golden sun, football, magnificent foliage.
Thanksgiving weekend.
Let's skip ruddy November. But December
is exciting with fresh snow, Christmas with all
its ramifications, holidays coming up, families
getting together.
January and February are brutal but
challenging. We're right into the curling and
skiing, the daily battle to stay alive, and the
knowledge that once we're over the hump.
about Feb. 20, the worst lies behind.
Even rotten March has its compensations:
Easter, worst of the winter over, March break,
-and only one or two more snowstorms to
survive.
Then- comes cruddy April. There's nothing
to do out of doors. Curling and skiing are
finished, and it's too early for golf and fishing.
Nothing to do outside except catch a cold in
that frigid wind blowing off the ice in the bay.
It's a dirty month. There's salt and sand
and mud on the streets, to be tracked into the
house. It's a pain in the arm for housewives.
That lousy yellow sun peers insolently through
the windows, illuminating dirty panes,
smeared wallpapers, spots on the rug, stains
on 'the chairs, and well-fingered woodwork ;
none of which showed up in the dear dark days
of winter. The home-maker's heart sinks.
Male homeowners are just plain .c..m-
barrassed as the snow imperceptibly melts,
revealing all manner of junk on front and back.
lawn. This year I watched with growing
dismay the surfacing of four daily papers, in
their yellow plastic wrappers on the front .
lawn, where some turkey kid had thrown them
when there was four feet of snow on said area.
Then up crept .one disgusting item after
another. Lawnmower peeping first its head,
then rusty body out of the snow, a reminder of
how I was caught short again last November
by the first fall:
Picnic chairs, lurching out of the shrinking
drifts like a couple of old winos, deereplit,
falling apart. disgusting. Fragments of
Christmas tree. swept up, minced and thrown
all over the lawn by the snowplow in early
January,
A stack of newspapers. put out with the
garbage in February. picked up by that same
'twister during a blizzard; chewed up and
hurled into three-pound lumps all over the
place, each solidly frozen into the ice. salt,
and sand.
Last fall's oak leaves, caught on the ground
by the first snowstorm, about three inches
thick, looking about as appetizing as the meat
in a particularly repellent shepherd's pie.
April is also a rough month on teachers. If
the sun is shining, however feebly, students •
gasp wildly, pretend thOre dying of heat.
throw all the classroom window wide to the 40
degree breeze that spells bronchial
pneumonia to the less hot-blooded pedant.
For university students about to graduate,
April is hellish. Final exams loom like the
Furies of old, and all the procrastination
begins to catch up. An'd these days. 90 per
cent of them arc quite convinced they won't
get a job, on graduation.
Speaking of nothing to do outside, as I was
away back there, there is nothing to do inside
either. Unless you want• to watch large,
young, sweaty, overpaid athletes smash each
other into the boards, as the pro hockey
playoffs wend their way wearily toward the
finals.
This year, April was worse than usual, with
a thousand windbags expelling their contents
into the air about an upcoming election.
Suddenly, all sorts of people who couldn't care
less whether you got ingrown toenails or fell
into a cess-pool, began showing great
friendliness and sincerity, a genuine concern.
about your point of view and how you would
vote.
And I think the month of April is pretty well
brought to its climax by the income tax return,.
due on the last day of that miserable month.- I
always feel that I've been beaten, raped, and
left naked by the side of the road, when that
ordeal is over.
It doesn't cheer .me up much to look around
and see all the people diddling the
unemployment insurance, all the former
students, now fairly affluent, who never paid
back their student loans.
Looking back, all I can say is that April is
Awful. Thank goodness for May. Not to
mention Pearly, Ruby, and Mabel.
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Sugar and Spice
by Bill Smiley
April is cruellest month