Sadie Milligan

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Oh, Hang It

That’s what SADIE MILLIGAN said when someone gave her an oil-painting for her birthday.

The reason for Sadie's remark was one, because she'd been expecting half-a-dozen pairs of nylons, and, two, because what can a girl do with an old oil-painting except hang it? So, do-it-yourself Sadie collected stepladder and hammer. She should have called in the man next door to hang it for her - then, like most do-it-yourself girls, she wouldn't have ended up on the floor.

Framed? Yes - the painting, not Sadie, because there's a consensus of opinion among those who value somebody else's grandmother in oils that this was deliberate sabotage on Sadie's part. All we can say is she makes a better picture than the picture.

Sadie, of the long and shapely legs, is a Bonny Scot from Ayrshire. And when she's not hanging pictures she works for a chemical firm.

Ann Mountford

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Glorious Devon

Devon is a county renowned for being glorious. Lovely golf courses, green farms and sea-washed beaches. Drake used to sail out from Devon. Not long-ago ANN MOUNTFORD sailed out herself and came to London.

Now, instead of gathering hay on farms in Devon she's a ledger clerk in the City. Some might think this isn't a change for the better, but Ann likes London and she likes her work.

She's good at figures.

And she's got rich auburn hair, lovely green eyes and long legs. She's nineteen. It's her world.

Barbara Boon

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Babs Figures

Very good at figures is BARBARA BOON, which isn’t surprising in a girl who wasn’t far short of being a mathematical marvel when she was at college. Not that the boys were breathless admirers of her mathematics—well, not as much as they were of her inches, which made her look lovely and shapely.

It’s all very well to go on a diet and finish up looking flat all the way down but it doesn't inspire the chaps as much as an oo-la-la shape of 37-24-36.

That figures.

Dawn Grayson

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How To Be Crazy Without Really Trying

Quite simple. Get yourself introduced to DAWN GRAYSON at a cocktail party for models with a flair for slaying the beholder. One look at our beautiful Dawn and you’ll be as crazy about her as we are. What real man can look into those soft eyes and dwell on that haunting shade of lipstick without wanting to be shot out of a cannon or something? Crazy it might be but undeniably exhilarating.

Anne Mattingley

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On The Doorstep

ANNE MATTINGLEY is a firm believer in fresh air. So, of course, the first thing she docs when she tumbles out of bed in the morning is to sit on the doorstep and do her breathing exercises.

After she's touched her toes a few times she feels a new girl. What was wrong with the old one? Nothing, as far as we can see. Everything looks in fine shape, at 37-23-38.

Lesley Lovell

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Boxer Fan

You might think this means LESLEY LOVELL is dead keen on watching heavyweights commit mayhem.

Not so. It only means that Lesley’s favourite pet is not Billy Walker but her large Boxer dog. How that Siamese cat crept into the picture we don't know. Where’s Bodger the Boxer?

Miserable truth though it is we have to confess Bodger is allergic to cats. They give him the heebie-jeebies. But it doesn’t affect Lesley’s fondness for his funny face. Lesley, by the way, does display work, lives in Middlesex, is a tall blonde with lovely legs and has trim, streamlined vitalistics of 35"-22"-36".

Margaret Cicek

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Put Your Feet Up

After a hard day at the office MARGARET CICEK likes to put her feet up. So, does Alfie Corkwright, he works in an iron foundry and he comes home absolutely beat-up by all those red-hot sparks.

Margaret comes home whacked out by the terrific tempo of electric typewriters.

It’s the same the whole world over.

Evenings are for putting your feet up, especially if you commute and the journey is a fight for survival.

Susan Howard

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Please Don’t Make Me Laugh

No, please don't make me laugh, said SUSAN HOWARD, I get all giggly and it won't go away.

I'm learning Esperanto, you see, and you need to be terribly serious about it and concentrate like a girl sticking on her false eyelashes for her most important date.

And then my dad comes along and says something comical and I giggle all over my books and the pages blow apart. He says I ought to get a job as assistant to a TV funny man, he says I’d be just right for that.

I hope you don't mind girls who giggle a lot, do you? Oh, thank you. You're a very sweet photographer. Oh, no, don't start making funny faces or I'll get all hysterical.

I’m sorry, I just thought you were, I didn't realise your face was always like that.

Sally Peters

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In the Middle of the Jungle

This is a wild nature story

Well then, dead in the middle of the jungle was an Edwardian town house of three storeys. All around it was concrete. It was about half-a-mile from Chelsea and you couldn't see the rest of London for all the bricks. In the charming bedsit on the top floor was an exotic orchid., blooming away despite the jungle.

You could have swiped us semi-conscious with a gardenia window-box when we met the orchid. She was SALLY PETERS. She had never been in a jungle before, she had come from a quiet country town to work as a secretary in London. The hoots of the taxis were like the roars of lions, but Sally was blooming all the same. Well, she had coped with whistling wolves for years, so roaring lions were no problem.

"I could eat them for breakfast," she said.

The first lion-eating orchid of all time.

Helen Du Bois

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In Regard to Your Insurance

For a premium you’ll think is quite ridiculous (said the insurance man) you can be covered for any kind of personal accident. Every day people fall off ladders, cartwheel down fire escapes, walk into walls—

Yes, yes, that's all very well said HELEN DU BOIS but how ridiculous is quite ridiculous? I have quite a job to keep up with the cost of living as it is. Being a shorthand-typist does not exactly cover me for tripping off to Davos in the winter and Cannes in the summer, and I can't even buy all the clothes I'd like. So how I can afford more insurance, however ridiculous the premium is, I really don't know.

Oh, my dear young lady, I can assure you it would scarcely raise a rattle in your purse. And what you must consider is not whether you can afford it but whether you can’t—

I've already considered that. What I’m considering now is how often I fall off ladders, tumble down fire escapes and walk into walls. Actually, it was very intriguing the other day. The most heavenly man suddenly appeared as I left the boutique and I was so invigorated by his obviously magnetic vitality that I walked straight into him. We parted the best of friends and he sent round a bunch of flowers. I don’t need to be insured against that. Goodbye, Mr. Pinecrust.

Penny Leigh

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Penny For Your Thoughts

If you often have wistful dreams about someone tender, affectionate and absolutely ravishing who would make you blissfully happy without having to go off to a desert island, you're probably on an all-male expedition to the icy wastes of Greenland.

One girl you'll almost certainly dream about as soon as you see these pics of her is PENNY LEIGH.

She's ever so ravishing.

She likes riding, swimming and motorbikes. She can ride a motorbike like fun. Want to go pillion with her?

If so, hang on blissfully or you'll fall off.

Susan Ashford

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What a Worker

In a Scottish fashion house SUSAN ASHFORD puts in a hard, creative day's work every day, and you can't stop her vibrantly attacking all kinds of other jobs at week-ends, either.

Makes us feel fragile, she does. The energy of the girl. And she's only twenty-one.

She keeps her car in her garage at home, and she doesn't only like to keep the car gleaming with polish, she likes to keep the garage spotless too. It's incredible. All those lovely week-ends just made for fun and Susan happy with a broom.

Wearing just the bare essentials, as it were, she goes into action. If we had a bloke come round to do a spot of polishing or cleaning for us, he'd be wearing egg-stained dungarees and turn the place upside-down in minutes. Not Susan. With smooth, curvy efficiency, and looking like a shipwrecked sailor's dream of home, she cleans up the garage in no time at all. Talk about how to make a humdrum job look like a floor show at Dick's Nitery.

Lovely.

Maureen Beech

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Adaptability

Most of you know that adaptability and housewifery go hand-in-hand. Take the case of MAUREEN BEECH, for instance. Maureen not only runs a home, she is also a fashion model and the holder of the title " Miss Brighton and Hove Albion 1965.” Besides adaptability, how's that for getting around?

Joy Harries

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One of the Joys of Life

The best secretaries today all seem to be raving beauties, and if they'd been part of the scene in Dickens' time he'd have dispensed with Little Nell and filled his books with heroines who had far more vibrations, and who were full of the joys of life.

One of the joys of life today is secretary JOY HARRIES.

Here she is on the seat at the bottom of her garden in Hertfordshire.

We know you'd all like one like Joy at the bottom of your gardens, but supposing suddenly you did have? You'd only go all non-compos mentis and quivery and inarticulate. What the one cool man in a hundred would do would be to bow slightly, extend a hand and say, "Ah, my dear Miss Harries, shall we take tea on the lawn or shall I show you the conservatory?"

Joy would like that. She can take tea or leave it, but she adores conservatories and hot plants.

Liz McEwen

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Parley – Vous Francais?

Oui !

Girl with the engaging smile and a natural flair for looking lovely in white lingerie is LIZ McEWEN.

Liz spent a holiday in France this year. She went with some girlfriends. Naturally, they all wanted to test their French. Liz saw the most ravishing gendarme, lean, long, shatteringly Gallic and absolutely dishy. “When the traffic stops,” she said, “I’ll pop over to him and ask him the way to the Eiffel Tower.” “But we're not going to the Eiffel Tower,” said Shirley,” we went there yesterday.” You can't do anything with a girl as unimaginative as Shirley, so Liz just gave her a look and popped over to ask her dishy gendarme the way to the Eiffel Tower. As soon as the gendarme saw her coming he blew his whistle and all the traffic went into reverse. He bowed when Liz arrived and Liz, in her best French, which is not at all bad, popped the question apropos the location of the Eiffel Tower.

She returned to her friends dreamy-eyed and in an ecstatic tizzy, as they say in all the modern novels. “Well?” said Shirley. “He said it was twenty minutes after eleven,” said Liz tenderly. “Some answer,” said a girl called Daffodil, “he couldn't have understood your French.”

“His name is Maurice,” said Liz,” and when he comes to England he's going to bring me one of those big bunches of onions.”