'Scobie Lawson had never gone looking for trouble; if he had been given to taking care of pets, he would have been sur- rounded by doves, vultures, and other emblems of what now passes for peace. But even abroad he had been unable to pursue the even tenor of everyone else's way. He had been clunked on the head by New York cops for inciting a riot at the Polo Grounds by unwisely rooting for the Dodgers; had been thrown on his back by a Paris gendarme whose Gallic wit hadn't appreciated the humour in being bowled over by a bicycle and he had been roughly handled by three London bobbies, who had at the same time managed to retain their traditional politeness towards overseas visitors, even towards one who, inebriated and unclothed, had just been found bathing under the fountains in Trafalgar Square. Now, Scobie was on his way home to Cawndilla, where there was only one policeman and he was a friend of the family, if not of Scobie. If trouble had to come, and Scobie was resigned to it, then it was better that it came close to home, where it was easier to raise bail.'
Source: First Instalment, Sydney Morning Herald, Saturday 13 February 1954, p.12
