There’s nothing that makes the passage of time more obvious than seeing our children grow! Where’s little Frank now, who we left (so recently, it seems!) on the tributaries on the left bank of the Danube?

“Where’s our Frank got to?” grumbled Mr. Povondra as he opened his evening paper.

“You know, same as always,” said Mrs. Povondra, bent over her sewing.

“Out chasing after girls again, is he?” said Mr. Povondra disapprovingly. “Damn boy! Nearly thirty years old, he is, and never spends a single evening at home!”

“He certainly gets through his socks fast enough,” sighed Mrs. Povondra as she drew another worn-out sock over the wooden last. “Now what am I going to do with this one?” she said as she contemplated a large hole on the heel that resembled the outline of Ceylon. “Better just throw it out, I suppose,” she thought critically, but nonetheless, after further strategic considerations, she stuck her needle decisively in at Ceylon’s southern coast.

A dignified homely peace reigned for a while, the sort the Povondras were so fond of; there was only the rustle of the newspaper and the fast-moving needle and thread to answer it.

“Have they got him yet?” asked Mrs. Povondra.

“Who?”

“That murderer, the one who killed that woman.”

“I can’t be bothered with this murderer of yours,” grumbled Mr. Povondra with distinct contempt. “I’ve been reading here about how tensions have erupted between China and Japan. That’s a serious matter, that is. It’s always a serious matter out there.”

“I don’t think they’re ever going to catch him now,” Mrs. Povondra opined.

“Who?”

“That murderer. They don’t often catch them when they murder women.”

“Japan doesn’t like it that China’s been regulating the Yellow River. That’s politics, that is. For as long as the Yellow River keeps playing up they’ll keep on having floods and famines in China, and that keeps China weak. Pass me the scissors, mother, I’ll cut this one out.”

“What for?”

“‘Cause it says here they’ve got two million newts working on the Yellow River.”

“That’s a lot, isn’t it!”

“I should say so. Mind you, girl, I’m sure it must be America that’s paying for it. Why would the Mikado want to put his own newts in there - And look at this!”

“What is it?”

“The Petit Parisien says here that France won’t like it at all. And I sure they won’t. I wouldn’t like it either.”

“What wouldn’t you like, dear?”

“For Italy to extend the island of Lampedusa. That’s a very important strategic position, that is. Italy would be able to threaten Tunis from there.  And the Petit Parisien says that Italy wants to turn the island into a first class marine fortress, that there are sixty thousand armed newts already there - Just think of that! Sixty thousand; that’s three divisions, mother. There’s something going to happen down there in the Mediterranean if you ask me. Have a look yourself; I’ll cut it out for you.”

In the meantime Ceylon had disappeared under the industrious needle of Mrs. Povondra and reduced itself to no more that the proportions of Rhodes.

“And there’s England, too, don’t forget,” Mr. Povondra considered. “They’re going to have their troubles, too. In the House of Commons they’ve been taking about how Great Britain will be left behind all the other states where water constructions are concerned. They say all the other colonial powers are building new shorelines and reclaiming new land all the time while the British government is too conservative and won’t trust............