RADIO-ATORS

The University at large will sympathize with the unfortunate inhabitants of the Yard and Business School dormitories from whom the chill breezes of Cambridge winter have elicited a chorus of complaint and protest. It is, indeed, a sad state of affairs when the heating management makes it necessary for the cloistered Senior to crawl between icy sheets after burning the mid-night oil. And it is hardly to be expected that future business magnates of the nation can survive the ordeal of climbing out from between warm blankets and dressing in the unfriendly atmosphere of refrigerator-like cubicles. No one will deny that the days of asceticism and pioneering are over, and that something should be done for these modern martyrs to the rigours of a monastical degree of temperature.

However, Business School residents are further victimized. It seems that empty radiators have a tendency to transmit sound in an uncanny way and that many an innocent dweller on the fourth floor has been forced to listen in on first floor conversations which, if they do not startle him, are at least distracting. A typewriter creates havoc and it is rumored that radiators have here and there been loosened from the wall by the harangues prolonged into the small hours of the morning.

It is hoped that general indignation will help remedy such a lamentable state of affairs.