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Beard, S J : Life Can Be Fun

Central News Agency, South Africa, 1948

163 pages (complete). A mild-mannered, grubby, worn book. This is an amiable memoir of growing up in the late 1800s, soldiering in the Great War and spending time with the Cape Mounted Police and so forth. The black cover is worn, marked, scuffed, rubbed. The faces and spine are defiantly firm and sound. The inside covers have damp stains. There is a previous owner signature. The early and later pages are grubby. The pages have mild foxing. They are however, clear, amiable, certain, generous, tight and sure. fk. Book Condition: Poor. Binding: Hardcover. Jacket: No Jacket

1st Edition.

Beard, S J : Life Can Be Fun

Central News Agency Limited, South Africa, 1948

163 pages (complete). A benign copy. The boards are calm, a little worn, lightly marked and scuffed from storage. The early pages have grease stains to the edge - the text and general aspect of the book is unaffected. The binding along the front pages is a little loose but secure and sure. The pages are genial, affable, clear, mellow. fk. Book Condition: Fair. Binding: Hardcover. Jacket: No Jacket

First Edition.

Beard, S. J : Life Can Be Fun

(Johannesburg: Central News Agency, [1948])

8vo; original black cloth, with gilt lettering to spine; pp. (vi) + 163. Cover a little bumped and slightly rubbed; gift inscription to front free endpaper; archival tape reinforcing to hinges; old, penned price to half-title; sporadic, light foxing. Good condition. Uncommon. The biography is divided into four parts: Early Days in England; Soldiering: The Cape Mounted Police; A Variety of Business Ventures; Mainly Motor-cars, Fountain Pens, and Golf. 'In the month of June, 1880, I was born. There was no banging of drums, clashing of cymbals, or fanfare of trumpets. Firstly, we could not afford it and, secondly, I don't think I was particularly welcome anyway. There was not much of me, as I have since learned that at birth I weighed only about four-and-a-half pounds. It was doubtful whether I would survive, and when I was eight days old a parson was called in and I was "half baptised." The reason for this was that in those days an unbaptised person could not be buried in consecrated ground. Some few years later I was fully baptised at a little church in the Forest of Dean. In any case the Reaper passed me over and, like the sporting fisherman, treated me as a "little 'un" and threw me back into the sea of life and gave me the chance to become a "big 'un." Did I survive? I think I must have done so, otherwise I should not be writing this story, at which time I am five feet ten inches in height, and weigh thirteen stone.'

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