The Random Thoughts of Henry Holloway
The other day as I was travelling across the Border by train on my homeward journey, there was a couple sitting opposite to me. They were from Scotland, they were married and they were very young - I guessed they were going home after a honeymoon in Eire. They hadn’t anything to declare when the Customs man came around, but he thought he had better make sure. Bless your heart, he might have had a soft spot somewhere. If he had, the young people couldn’t see it. Out came silk and cigarettes and a few boxes of something else; he even took the lady’s wrist watch to have it checked. Off the poor young husband went to the office while we all sat and waited for the result.
Some more time elapsed, and the young wife came back alone, bringing everything with her, including the watch. It was some more minutes before the husband came back, ruefully counting his change. As the train pulled out muttered imprecations seemed to be coming from the fair one’s lips and her eyes looked malevolently out of the window. Should a wordy battle develop between those two in their married life, if I were the man I’d take a walk.
Years ago I used to cross the Border fairly often - I won’t say where - and there was a man on the Customs who at times was very kindly and very gracious. At other times he was quite the reverse. The story I heard about him was that he had a very sick wife and sometimes got very little sleep. The day after he was cross and irritable, though normally he was a very kindly man.
Did you ever try to see the man behind the official ? Lots of people don’t like the Customs man, and they don’t like the Income Tax man. When I was a lad I didn’t like the ‘Bobbies’ either, but that was because I liked to kick football in the street to say nothing of other little bits of devilment. If you are not smuggling you can smile at the Customs man; if you are returning your legitimate amounts in tax you can stop worrying about the Income Tax man; and if you are a law-abiding citizen you can greet every Bobbie with a gallant salute.
It doesn’t matter who he is, every official is human. He has a duty to do and he does it as best he can. At home he probably gets down on the floor and gives the kiddies a pick - a - back ride just as you do; he is in love with his wife; he does a bit of gardening and on Sunday he goes to Church and asks the good Lord to forgive him for his sins. Yes, he is human, like the rest of us, but we see only the official.
There was a man like that once in the days of our Lord. He was a Tax Collector and the people hated him but we are told that when Jesus passed by He saw a man sitting at the receipt of custom. Nobody else saw that.
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