Scots girl SHIRLEY HOLDEN loves cars and also has a weakness for horses, carrying lumps of sugar around for all the noble nags in the neighbourhood. We regret that on this occasion she forgot, which is why we had to concentrate on Shirley and not the gee-gees.
There's so much sea around at Brighton that typist ZEE DORCAS can plunge about in the waves almost any time she likes.
Usually she wears a bikini. It was an accident when she plunged in wearing a dress and etcetera’s. She fell over the side of her rowing-boat. The salt water left her all sticky, so she dashed home and went straight under the shower.
What a shower. The best she'd ever had freshened her up in no time and took all the salt out of her undies.
“Well” she said demurely, "it was either the shower or the washing machine, and I didn't fancy being chucked all over the place by the spin dryer."
One way of spending a couple of chatty Hours with your girlfriend is to ring her up and let her pursue her natural talent for making a phone conversation last all day.
It’s even more like that on the Continent. The Continentals being naturally loquacious it’s asking for trouble to phone them when you’re in a hurry.
There was that nice feller Arnold, whose speciality was buying old electric kettles from gullible housewives and turning them into steam irons for the price of a new tweed suit. They never worked, of course, but he had such a way with him that no housewife ever complained. Anyway, he met an absolutely beautiful damsel called BARBARA VALENTIN when he was on the Continent.
When he got back to London he rang her up to ask her if he could see her in Cannes later that year. After listening to her answer, which was all in lovely lilting Latin and took two hours to deliver, Arnold managed to get a word in.
“What was that you said?” he asked numbly.
“Oui,” replied Barbara, and then in fascinating English she added, “And please, zat steam kettle you sell me, it do not work, no, never, it only spits hot water at me.”
“Oh?” said Arnold embarrassedly.
“Please,” said Barbara, “you send me back my money or I knock your big head off and queeck.”
It’s Friday night and SHIRLEY CAMPBELL has got a date and it’s just occurred to her what a giggle it all is. Well, there she is engaged in the pressing business of ironing her smalls and there he is, already waiting on the corner and wondering what’s keeping her. Shirley’s giggling at the idea of inviting him up to help her out with the ironing.
The trouble is when you’re in a hurry everything goes wrong, and those collapsible ironing tables are all too collapsible, and then the phone rings, and the doorbell buzzes and you can’t get your foot out of the under-structure. Never mind, the girls of Glasgow always come up smiling, even under circumstances like these, and Shirley is no less a typical Glaswegian than all the other cute lasses.
It’s worth a look, and so is SUE HALSEY.
Of course, not everybody gets the grand tour conducted by Sue. Not everybody’s that lucky. And those whom Sue has shown around have usually been unable to remember a thing about the Park. They’ve been too busy looking at Sue.
They’ve been too busy remembering how pretty Sue looked perched on that park bench. You too?
Looking just a little bit cheeky is Hampshire girl JANET COOKE. Janet works in Bournemouth but is hoping to become a photographic model. She has a very trim and fashionable figure measuring 35-22-34, chestnut-gold hair and blue eyes.
Photographers, please note.
Girl who belongs to the modern way of life is BRENDA NORTH, although you can see she likes communing with countryside as well as getting into the groove on the dance floor.
Brenda is slim, lively and likes to go, go, go, and if she looks a little dreamy when she’s out-of-doors, well, the girls in the mod mood today are dreamy, aren’t they?
There are a great many bonny girls in Scotland, all of whom catch the eye as they run for a bus, but it was quite ridiculous that secretary JOAN GLOVER should catch the eye when she wasn’t even running down the stairs.
Life is like that, not just for Joan but all of us. And because life is the way it is for all of us, life is fascinating.
You've got to hand it to the young generation.
They're not a bit inhibited, and they're so natural they make the rest of us feel how wrong we were to accept that gooseberry bushes had another role beside that of producing gooseberries.
Look at young CAROLINE SPENCER, looking ever so uninhibited in the park. Of course, there was no one about. Just a little riot going on under the trees where fellers were duelling with each other and panting "Hop it, I saw her first."
Caroline just sat there and took no notice.
A busy bee called Bertie buzzed furiously around all day—so much so that the other bees thought about reporting him to their union. "He’s flogging his wings to whiskers." they said. But Bertie cared not, neither did he cease, for he was inspired by the girl who came to the hive to see him at work. The girl was honey-blonde ANITA DALE of Earl’s Court, Kensington, and honey bees naturally buzz for honey blondes.
Croydon secretary’ with all the appeal every secretary should have is JUDY COE, swinging girl in a swinging scene.
That coal bucket is just a gag, of course. Judy doesn't think in terms of coal buckets and she thought this one was a converted Roman helmet and wanted to know which museum we'd nicked it from.
But she looks a dish in a sweater, don’t you think?
“It’s all wool,’’ she said, “and saves me having to light the fire. Do you remember where I put my hat?”
It was a good question but we had no idea how to answer it.
There comes a time in the life of the happy bachelor when he's willing to relinquish the wheel to a girl.
When Monty took off for a country inn with PATSY FRENCH, he realised he could only enjoy the view of the road. What he had in mind originally was a lunch of bread and cheese and pickles with Patsy, but halfway there he decided bread and cheese and pickles may be the staff of life but they don't represent absolute bliss.
Bliss absolute can be the Beatles or Tom Jones or Elvis Presley, or even a Chopin melody on a grand piano. To Monty it was a view of Patsy in the driving seat. So he stopped the car and gave her the wheel.
What a vision. What a driver.
It mattered not that she drove up hills in top gear, took corners on one wheel and parked the car so that he couldn't get out on his side. Patsy in the driving seat was absolute bliss and so were the pickles.
We’ll take two lumps. NICOLA TAYLOR makes a lovely cup of hot char, and that's not all. She also has lovely legs and in her mini-dress makes just about the prettiest picture around the house you would wish for.
Of course, if you’re about eighty you probably still conjure up pictures of Mistinguette when you think about legs. You're very welcome, but we'll stand by Nicola.
During the war, there was an awful ding-dong going on in France, and Stanislaw Warsava was right in the thick of it, serving with a Free Polish unit. Still, there were far lovelier things to come. Off-duty behind the lines one day he met the most entrancing Polish girl who had escaped her suffering country and made her way through France.
They came to England, married and settled down in Carlisle. They had a lovely daughter later on. Here she is.
EVA WARSAVA, born of her happy Polish parents, can't help being addicted to Britain. She's eighteen now and lives in digs in Streatham in south-west London. She came to London to take up an office job but found it too monotonous. It was all biff-bang on a typewriter. The bell kept pinging.
Then she met a photographer. He said, "You'll do, you're a living doll." Eva thought he was trying to make impetuous headway, but he was only trying to tell her she was a natural as a photographic glamour girl. In the end Eva took his advice and became a model.
Wasn't it lucky her father-to-be met her mother-to-be in France? If he hadn't, Eva might never have happened. It makes one go all weak at the thought.
Stylist tress chic is SUSAN McKAY, not only in her clothes but in her job. Susan works as assistant to a prominent Glasgow hair stylist, and having her put a kink in your hair if you’re a customer must be a joy.
Customers being of the fair sex only, we’re left without a kink—apart from the one the psychiatrist told us about—and we rather wish Susan would stop lying around on walls and beaches and join our barber’s shop.
Very few barber’s shops have lady assistants, and those that do don’t have any quite like Susan, with her gorgeous brown eyes and her photogenic legs.
