winner takes the pot -- provided they are there.

If not, it's tough luck. The pot grows by another $100 until it reaches its maximum $1,000.

So difficult has it been to give away the loot (Could it be the food?) there are now two $1,000 pots and a third has been started.

On this particular night members held their breath as a $1,000 number was drawn. And the winner ... Sir David Gibbons! The commodore's observation that the multi-millionaire wasn't present drew a hearty round of applause.

The theft of bikes in Bermuda is reaching such alarming proportions now that even salesmen are giving customers the lowdown.

The other day a man who was shopping around for a new bike after his had finally bitten the dust, went into one of Hamilton's showrooms to inquire about a new set of wheels.

The salesman, in explaining the different models, said: "Well this one is really popular with the thieves, while this other one is not stolen as much.'' And who said salesmen are not honest?! US Naval Air Station Commanding Officer Capt. Tim Bryan looked a little like General George Patton when he spoke at Base closing ceremonies last week, using a huge American flag as a backdrop.

The flag, which stands 36 feet tall by 20 feet wide and weighs more than 50 pounds, had last been unfurled for a visit by then US vice-president Mr.

George Bush.

You know what that means. Bermuda mould, of course! It's understood that Touch of Class Drycleaners in nearby St. George's got more than it bargained for when the Navy brought in its wash. The dry cleaning took a solid three days.

The flag, meanwhile, is bound for Naval Base Puerto Rico.

The Royal Gazette received a back-handed compliment when Capt. Bryan made his parting remarks.

The CO told about the arrival of the first Commanding Officer, Capt. Jules James, more than 50 years ago. Quoting from Capt. James' diary, Capt. Bryan said there was no welcoming party from either the Bermuda Government or the US Consul General when the first CO arrived aboard SS Exeter .

"The reception was distinctly cold,'' he read from the diary. "I announced to the officer in charge of construction my intention to commission the Naval Operating Base at once.

"He appeared shocked at my expediency, and misinformed me that it was impossible to get to Tucker's Island by boat on account of the weather,'' Capt. James wrote. "I told him I would go by train and requested him to inform the Consul General by telephone that if he wanted to witness the commissioning of the Base, he could join us on the train which left within a few minutes.'' Upon arriving at Tucker's Island, Capt. James was greeted, not by Government or a representative of the American Consul General, but by a reporter from the Gazette .

"Apparently,'' Capt. Bryan said, "some things are timeless.'' In a final note about the Base that is set to close on September 1, Notebook wonders if the sauce in the Big Macs at the US Naval Air Station's McDonald's is tastier than that at its stateside counterparts.

Are the fries crispier? The answer, apparently, is a resounding yes -- so resounding, in fact, that some people are prepared to cross oceans to chow down on the localised version of the US food legend's fare.

On Monday evening, a source who was dining in the fast-food restaurant at the time said a twin-engined US military plane landed at the soon-to-be-closing base, taxied to a position near the McDonald's outlet and discharged some crewmen who ambled into the restaurant.

After they had picked up their orders the crewmen left the restaurant and jumped back into their plane, which promptly took off.

"It was amazing,'' the source said bemusedly. "They were in and out of there in a few minutes.'' Commander Rich Link, the Base's air operations officer, could not confirm this week that a plane had landed near the restaurant on Monday, citing privacy, and the fact that many planes were flying in and out of the Base these days to aid in the withdrawal. But, he added, "that's not to say that it didn't happen.'' Reporters are creatures of habit. They like to slip into court, slide onto their specially appointed Press bench and draw intricate scribbles until the judge arrives.

It came as a surprise, therefore, when one afternoon last week a lawyer came over and asked a Gazette reporter to move to the public galley.

Astonished, the reporter asked why. The lawyer, it appeared, feared that the judge, on seeing the Press, would be extra tough on her client. So if the reporter could just tuck herself away among the members of the public there was a possibility her client could end up with just a slap on the wrist.

Intrigued to see whether the usually tough-talking magistrate would sweeten up with an empty Press box, the reporter agreed.

No such luck. Rebuke after stinging rebuke fell from the magistrate's lips.

Finally, the sentence passed, the lawyer rose wearily to her feet and headed for the door. "I guess it didn't work,'' she said with a sigh.