Northern light - 01.07.1941, Qupperneq 10

8
XORTHERX LKiHT
THE TOC H SERVICES CLUB, REYKJAVIK
“More than forty years ago,” he said,
“I used to play party games in this very
room”.
From the excited gathering of Icelandic
children, their arms and voices raised
in the crazy chase of a red balloon, I
glanced at the speaker, a dignitary of the
Icelandic Lutheran Church. His expression
raised an echo from the past. From far
away came tiny voices; a memory of
fingers sticky from sweets; dancing
pumps, coloured ribbons, a Christmas
tree; and a hundred little reflections that
time could never steal. For a little while,
hoth he and I were home again.
In December last the Toc H Services
Club was thrown open for a children’s
party. In those days the Club was young.
Tables, chairs, pictures, games, curtains
and a variety of household fittings had
somehow appeared and established them-
selves in the customary places. A gramo-
phone and wireless set played just as if
they had been bought and paid for. Men
were joining rapidly and it became in-
creasingly difficult for the two staff men
to keep pace with the varying demands
for all sorts of different social and ment-
al activities.
Here was something new to Iceland.
During the early days when troops were
“digging in”, facilities for recreation
were limited and the usual round of cafés
soon began to pall. There was hardly
a corner where men could gather to find
amusement, chat, read or write.
To-day, the Club is fully grown. It tries,
simply, to preserve in this foreign land
those opportunities and memories of the
English way of life; of friendliness and
cheerfulness, quiet hours with a book, the
joy of hobbies, music, literature, games
and a yarn with friends over a cup of
tea. Downstairs, the canteen has a ready
stock of refreshments and cigarettes.
Through the folding doors one can find
an easy chair, restful lighting and a wide
selection of newrspapers and periodicals.
The library adjoining contains further
comfortable seating for more serious read-
ing. In the ante-room, two dartboards are
always well patronised, and on the notice
board is a list of current activities.
Upstairs a recreation room is used
normally for games, but on particular
evenings is given over to meetings of
the Toc H Group, of the Debating and
Literary Societies, and for Gramophone
Recitals. Weekly Icelandic classes, too,
have been well attended. A further up-
stairs room has facilities for writing.
Xow, why is there a Toc H Services
Club in Iceland — or anywhere else for
that matter? In time of war it is so
easy to lose touch; to become infinitely
removed from all those things we were
trying to build; to lose grip on those
standards and aspirations we knew in an
úneasy peace. With the strange new burd-
en upon us wrhich war imposes it is so
easy to give it all up and forget. But any
good thing we had is surely worth re-
taining; the comradeships and sacrifices
this wTar is producing are surely worth
preserving; the standards of home life
are too dear to us to be lost, even temp-
orarily. Maybe rough living has changed
us. Perhaps our duties have left little time
for pursuing those interests which deve-
loped our personalities or helped us to
establish right relationships, one. wTith the
other. Once, perhaps, we had some sort
of taste for interesting discussion, for de-
bate, for literature: Some might eveu ad-
mit a secret desire for an easy chair
and that delightful capacity for doing
nothing.
There is a house which endeavours to
preserve those things we wish to remem-
ber; those interests and pastimes we had
to abandon; the “right relationships”,
which are born of cheerfulness and good
humour. Its address is Túngata 6. At the
rear, in the loft of an old stable, a small
and lovely chapel is always open.
R. P. Soar.