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Ted Culp, a teacher from Toronto, has a plan developed which would prevent the use of agriâ€" cultural land for cities. He is the best speaker of the group and at least gets around to discussing the problems facing the province once in awhile. o There seems to be little use in establishing an airport that far from the city. The Pickering airport draws the fire of Mr. Culp. He feels the airport should be located up to 300 miles from Toronto and some other form of rapid transit used to transport passengers to the city. Mr. Culp feels there is a great deal of nonâ€" agricultural land in the province which could be used for cities but he can only locate these areas generally and he has no idea what the ecological effects of establishing cities in these areas would be. Eddie Sargent has not put together a good case. He is fighting the battle by innuendo and stands a good chance of losing. If the newcomers want to make any showing at all they will have to look into the issues much deeper than they have so far. Don Deacon did not get involved with the shouting match between Eddie Sargent and Bob Nixon and he did give some appearances of having done his homework at least to a greater extent than some of his fellow candidates but his program is still far too vague to make any lasting impression on the voters. All in all though it was not a good show for the candidates. That leaves Robert Nixon, the present leader of the party. e Whether or not you agree with the proposed Pickering airport, you would have to doubt that an airport 300 miles from Toronto would effectively service the city. Mike Houlton from Mississauga, the newest of the candidates at that time seemed to think there was a problem of a lack of communication in the party but Mr. Houlton is going to have a more coherent program to communicate before people will pay much attention to him. Mr. Singer was not involved in Mr. Moog‘s dealings with Ontario Hydro and he has every right to continue his law practice while in the legislature. Eddie Sargent, the most vocal candidate so far is obviously trying to stir up a storm but his ways of doing it are questionable. He picked up what should not even be an isâ€" sue and has become involved in a suit because of what he has said about the matter. Mr. Singer did accept a retainer from Gerhard Moog of Canada Square Corp. but that is not scandalous in any way. 6 Poor showing by Liberal candidates The Vernon Singer affair should not do Mr. Sargent any good, Only two of the candidates, present leader Robert Nixon and MPP for York Centre Donald Deacon seem to have any grasp of the comâ€" plexity of the job which they are all striving for. The lack of thought which has gone into most of the programs is incredible. Published every Wednesday by Fairway Press, a division of Kitchenerâ€"Waterloo Record Ltd. 225 Fairway Rd.. S.. Kitâ€" chener, Ontario. Address correspondence to Waterloo Square, Waterloo, Ont. Telephone 744â€"6364. The leadership candidates for the Ontario Liberal party put on an uninspired show during their visit to Waterloo last week. 4 _ Waterloo Chronicle, Wednesday, October 10, 1973 In Canada: one year $8; in United States and Foreign countries: one year $10 SUBSCRIPTION RATES ESTABLISHED 1854 Wendy Herman, editor He proved this when we stopped to change for Chester. I started wrestling with our luggage and an incipient coronary. Before I could say, ‘"Bob Mitchell, he had whipped the two big suitcases off the overhead As we rattled through the Lakes. District, he went to pains to point out things and sights of interest. He sugâ€" gested a good restaurant in London. A veritable gentleâ€" man, in this age of boors. Anyway, â€" Bob Mitchell proved an agreeable travelâ€" ling companion. He was inâ€" terested, interesting, and affable. We‘d been in the same war, he on corvettes in the navy, I in the air force. We nattered about taxes, housing costs,‘ comâ€" parative incomes. § I didn‘t mean that Carlisle is bloody in the sense of bloody awful. But it did change hands several times in the bloody border wars. And it was thete that Willâ€" iam Wallace, the great Scots rebel, was put on public view in a cage, before he was hanged, drawn and quartered, and his parts affixed on various pikepoles about the city, as a lesson to the Scots "rebels", in the fourteenth century. Hurtling from Edinburgh to Chester on a train, we picked up at the ancient and bloody old city of Carlisle, near the Scottish border, an addition to our compartâ€" ment. This week T‘d like to finâ€" ish these thoughts by introâ€" ducing you to three greatly_ different people we met in England: a Bob, a Barmaid, and a Brigadier. They‘re probably more inâ€" teresting than some of the types with whom you beâ€" come bosom buddies on short acquaintance. But the people you meet on holiday are a refreshing affirmation that the earth contains an infinite variety of creatures of the human species. Last week I was talking of the fun of meeting people when you are travelling. It‘s not that your friends at home are dull. I‘M AFRAID HE CAN‘T COME To THE PHONE PRIGHT Now... HE‘S WORCING ON HIS FAVOURITE FOOTBALL __ Bill Smiley He was either a Scottish lord or the biggest liar in London, and I lean toward the latter. insd Then there was the Briâ€" gadier. He was another ketâ€" tle of fish, a horse of a difâ€" ferent colour, or, rather, of a number of different colâ€" ours, like a chameleon. And: nobody, but nobody, got out of line in that pub. It was not a matter of rules, or threats, but of personaliâ€" ty. She ran that bar like the ringmaster of a threeâ€"ring circus. Excellent service, a joke or a personal word for all the regulars. No play for tips. Peanuts or potato chips for anyone who looked as though he needed it. And all the time humming a song, pirouetting behind the bar, actually enjoying life. A deâ€" lightful person. I was beginning to despair of finding a real English barâ€" maid. But we did. She was Heather, in the Tudor, Westâ€" minster Hotel, Chester. She was 100 per cent proof of everything I‘d been telling the Old Lady. The Barmaid. I‘d been telling my wife for years about the barmaids of Briâ€" tain. They are NOT the busty, blowsy barmaids of fiction. But they are a breed of their own, with their, ‘‘*Wot‘ll it be, ducks?", and ‘*Ta, luv."" Ta means thanks. But they seemed to be a vanishing breed, supplanted by young women with too much makeâ€"up, wearing slacks and a bored expresâ€" sion. During our earlier converâ€" sation, he told me he had a cousin in Neepawa, Man. I told him my column was in the Neepawa Press. So here‘s his message to his cousin: ‘"Ask if Fred Crook remembers his visits to the Roman Wall area of Cumâ€" berland and Northumberâ€" land and his walks along the beach _ at _ Southborne." There you are, Fred Crook. rack, nipped out and put them on the platform. You‘d have to be a basket case for this to happen to you in Caâ€" nada. A barmaid and a brigadier Drums can sometimes get almost as big as the person carrying them. That‘s when I began to suspect. When he toid me he spoke Hungarian, Roumanâ€" ian and Polish without an acâ€" cent, my suspicions deepenâ€" We had a casual drink to gether, and he was friendly. I swiftly learned that he was 58 (he looked 42), had been in the Cameron Highlanders, was a retired Brigadier, had been with British intelliâ€" gence, "But we mustn‘t talk about that, of course." When I asked his name, He had an unnerving habit of drinking six Pernods while I was worrying through two half pints. Then he‘d get quite stoned and mumble on and on, "I‘m drunk. I say, I‘m drunk. I‘m as drunk as a lord. But of course I am a lord, so it‘s all right." he said, "Just call me Caâ€" meron.‘" It seemed he was the Lord of Lochiel, and he muttered about the Cameâ€" rons and their feuds with the McDonalds and others.