Sylvia Martin

Modern Jazzer

Very accomplished dancer to modern jazz is SYLVIA MARTIN of North London, and we can't say fairer than that without getting caught up in an extravaganza of completely dizzy jazz.

Sylvia has been around, dancing with a troupe in most of the European capitals. In Rome she met a fanatical Italian count. Well, he called himself a count and Sylvia called him fanatical. He followed her about and she could hardly go anywhere without Fatimo popping up in his dark glasses. He begged for her hand, he was handsome, engaging and rakishly suave.

” Marry me,” he kept saying.

"Look, stop following me about,” said Sylvia, "I'm not suited to be the wife of a count, I want to marry a footballer."

"So? I confess, then,” he said, "I am not a count, I am Guiseppe Fatimo and I play centre-back for the Italian grocers' team. Now will you marry me I”

"I can’t,” said Sylvia,” I’m madly in love with an English goalkeeper. Now will you go or do I have to push you off this sun roof!”

” You must push me off, my beautiful one,” he said.

Well, Sylvia thought that really was the best thing to do, so she did, and Guiseppe Fatimo didn't half feel it. When he woke up he had amnesia. He couldn't remember Sylvia but the nurse was so enchanting that he began to woo her very happily.

It was a nice ending, really, especially as the sun roof was only a few feet above the ground.

Sandra McPherson

Well-Tanned

Having returned home to Scotland from the sunny shores of the Mediterranean, cute SANDRA McPHERSON decided the first thing to do was to take an inventory of the pantry. Reluctant to completely divorce herself from the atmosphere of the Med, she put on her little short sun-skirt. The nylons are merely in acknowledgment of the somewhat colder breezes of Scotland, and they don’t completely black out her sun-tan. This was a beautiful golden brown and Sandra certainly does justice to that kind of tan.

Sandra’s main impression of Italy was the Italians—the way those Latin men sneak up and pinch a girl had to be felt to be believed.

It’s a fact, of course, that lots of girls who go to Italy return tanned from the sunshine and tender from the pinching. Sandra, we’re pleased to say, remains true to Scotland and the Scots.