THE CARGO SHIP 21

package of delicious dates, and take The Orient
Express' for Constantinople, a most thrilling and
satisfying evening's entertainment, at the Rialto
Theatre."

Do you Know That: Heather Angel's pet kitten
Penang had to have its claws clipped because it
insisted on sharpening them on the legs of
expensive tables;

That the pet economy of Heather Angel is buy-
ing washable gloves and laundering them herself;
That Una O'Connor permits only a very few of
her intimate friends to call her Tiny?
That blast of ballyhoo had not sold the film; to my
relief, because by contract my name had to appear
on every poster, it had kept to the smaller shabbier
cinemas, until now it was washed up in Teneriffe, in
a shaded side street behind an old carved door like
a monastery's. This was what made it an agreeable
acquaintance; it hadn't the shamelessness of success;
it might be vulgar, but it wasn't successfully vulgar.
There was something quite un-Hollywood in its
failure.

The Canaries were half-way to Africa; the Fox film
and the pale cactus spears stuck in the hillside, a
Victorian Gothic hotel smothered in bougainvillaea,
parrots and a monkey on a string, innumerable
themes were stated like the false starts and indecisions
of a lifetime: the Chinese job from which one had
resigned, the appointment in Bangkok never taken
up, the newspaper in Nottingham. I can remember
now only the gaudy poster, the taste of the sweet
yellow wine, fiat roofs and flowers and an arbour full
of empty bottles, and in the small dark cathedral a