Dianne Lloyd

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Country Style

If you live in the country, as DIANNE LLOYD does, you have to have a country style. Which means that you have your own way of climbing gates and fences.

Town birds wait for someone to come along and open a locked gate, or they give up and go home. Dianne scales a gate with verve and lovely legs, and for the information of those who didn't pay attention in school, verve means a spot of dashing elan.

Dianne, a secretary, lives near the New Forest. That's where Rufus, son of William the Conqueror was accidentally killed while hunting, and a stone marks the spot. Dianne herself nearly got bagged by a deerstalker once. She interrupted his apologies by asking him how on earth he could mistake her for a deer.

"As a matter of fact," he said, "you look an absolute darling. Could we have tea together?"

Those deerstalkers need watching all the time.

Nicola Taylor

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Latest On The Loveliest

Men walk around in dizzy circles when they see NICOLA TAYLOR in her yellow bikini on Bournemouth beach. This isn't just because there is so much more of glamorous Nicola than there is of the bikini, it's also because Nicola is simply and undeniably magnetic.

Her fans consider that as a pin-up she is indubitably the loveliest.

So, here are the latest pics of the loveliest.

Nicola on the phone is a knockout. Which means, of course, that the feller on the other end of the line is next door to unconscious and would be completely kaput if he could see her as well as hear her.

Nicola likes surfing, sports cars and keeping the furniture highly polished. She has a flair for making everything around the house look as if it's just left the showroom.

Caroline Ford

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There's Always a Good Day

Some days it's all go for CAROLINE FORD. She's a busy secretary for an energetic boss. She often has to work like a beaver on Saturdays as well.

But there's always a good day. Sunday. Then Caroline can relax. Her idea of how to unwind is to play tennis all day or go sailing. We'd get all beat up at tennis or soaked stupid at yachting, but not Caroline.

She is rejuvenated, she says.

That sounds like something that would put us in hospital.

Wendy Reynolds

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Mustang By Request

Call in during the morning at Wendy Reynolds' house for a cup of coffee, and you'll most likely find she's too busy to stop and chat. Wendy works at home, so first thing in the morning it's away with the breakfast things and in with the typewriter. Pretty soon the kitchen table looks more like a desk.

She writes short stories - love stories, mostly. We asked where she got her inspiration from, and if she needed any help in getting ideas for her stories. She seemed to think, though, that we were getting ideas. Could we help it, we protested, with her looking so glamorous?

To show she wasn't really offended she took some time off writing and posed for our photographer. Writing romances all started, she told us, when she had a boyfriend editing a love story magazine. The love letters she wrote him were so romantic he fired all the other writers and used her ideas instead. It didn't last long, though. Pretty soon she was so busy writing stories for herself she hardly had time for boyfriends, let alone writing letters to them.

"Nothing like putting your feet up after a hard day's typing," she says. We took one look and couldn't help agreeing with her.

Jan Kearney

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You’re Joking

WHEN our photographer looked up from his hot cocoa and saw JAN KEARNEY and heard her say, “Do you think I could ever be a pin-up girl?” he said in a kind of numb way, “You’re joking.” Jan said, “Well thank you for being so frank,” and he said, “No, don’t go—what I meant was you’re more fascinating than Mona Lisa and more beautiful than Venus, and if you don’t know it you should. Have some cocoa while I load my camera.”

An example of British glamour more fascinating than Mona Lisa and more beautiful than Venus is the dream of every photographer.

Marie Graham

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Bournemouth Girl

So popular has MARIE GRAHAM become lately as one of our exclusive pin-up girls that she's right in the forefront of the glamour stakes, as it were.

Give us more of Marie. That's the heart- appealing cry we constantly hear. We can't help being utterly responsive because we're a bit far gone on Marie ourselves. She's just ever so delicious, like.

She's a Bournemouth girl, a secretary and a swinger.

She likes long boots, micro-minis and old- fashioned suspenders.

"Well, what was good enough for my Auntie Mayflower is good enough for me." she said.

What a funny name for an auntie. Mayflower. Why is she such a good example?

"She was in the Wrens," said Marie, "and looked lovely in her sailor hat."

Well, there must be a connotation somewhere.

Herta Michaelides

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On Stage

On Stage, Luv

It was ever so friendly when HERTA MICHAELIDES from Cyprus appeared for her first part on the London stage.

She was waiting with nervous trepidation for the curtain to go up, and then this friendly voice called, "On stage, luv." Herta liked that. In Cyprus and Greece, they use a different expression, one which roughly translated means, "Come on, get a Grecian move on."

Herta has spent most of her nineteen years in Cyprus, where she was born of an English mother and a Greek father. Now she is in London, living in Pimlico with her English husband and working in the theatre. She's hoping for utterly dramatic things to happen, although she's willing to wait a while to appear with the great Olivier.

She's nice, is Herta.

Carol Burdette

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Well Caught

CAROL BURDETTE, was well caught by the old farm gate and the farmer’s boy was so smitten he went off his sandwiches.

Jenny Piper

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Glamour In The Country

While we're on the subject of glamorous wives, here's one who lives in the country.

She's JENNY PIPER, a golden blonde.

Jenny had quite a career going when she was a bachelor girl. She gave it all up to settle down in a country cottage when she got married, and the fortunate feller who married her made a lovely speech all about how paradise had arrived.

Well, what with roses round the door and Jenny around the kitchen, you couldn't call it anything -else but paradise. It's the sort of thing that makes the cynics go off their own egos.

Nina Wartenburg

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A Call For Willi

Some privileged guy called Willi Fritz, we think, is on the receiving end of this phone call from NINA WARTENBURG, blonde Berlin secretary who's wearing the boots to keep her toes warm.

We hope Willi is sufficiently appreciative of how attractive his caller is, even if Nina is only ringing to tell him to send over a small joint of Dutch veal. In fact, we hope any butcher's boy appreciates a pretty secretary as much as he does a young calf.

Marie Graham

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Look, What About My Legs?

"Eh ?" said Higgins the butcher.

“You heard,"said housewife MARIE GRAHAM. "What about my legs ?"

"Lovely," said Mr. Higgins.

"I ordered a leg of pork and a leg of lamb," said Mrs. Graham, "so where are they ?"

"Oh, them legs," said Mr. Higgins.

"Yes, them legs,"said Mrs. Graham, "for my dinner party. Some like pork and some like lamb and I'm hoping to please them all."

"Well, tell you what, invite me," said Mr. Higgins, "and I'll bring the joints round myself."

"Oh, be my guest, do," said the lovely young housewife.

"I'll have beef myself," said Mr. Higgins, "so I'll bring a steak too."

Caroline Ford

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Ah Well, That’s, How It Is

It's neither amazing nor sensational now.

The topless look.

Girls are revelling in freedom from bras and corsets. Bosoms are out, like. But honestly, you don't know where to look at a party, do you? Be terrifying if the craze took on a blase, everyday phase. You know how one gets crammed up in a tube train. What on earth could you say to CAROLINE FORD if you found she had suddenly become your bosom friend on the rush hour Inner Circle line?

"What lovely weather. Miss Er—Um."

"I'm not Miss Er—Um, and would you mind not hanging your umbrella on me?"

"Oh, dreadfully sorry—"

"Now you've dropped something, you silly man."

"Oh, just my eyeballs."

Simply revelling in all that freedom is Caroline.

Roz Barnwell

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There's Always Time For a Chat

Like any housewife, ROZ BARNWELL can always find time for a chat on the phone. It's nice to have friends who ring you up.

Roz is a pretty busy housewife, and a young mother too. Not only does she look after home, hubby and infant, she also holds down a secretarial job. And about once a week she does a modelling assignment. That just about makes her so versatile that she's almost a lovely miracle.

Other wives might buckle at the knees and start growing wrinkles and grey hairs, but Roz remains not just young but a delight to have around. She still likes the glamour of wearing stockings and suspenders, and if it weren't for the fact that the milkman has all his empties to look after he'd like to deliver four times a day to Roz's house. It's just joy to the eyes when she opens the door to take in her daily pint.

Jane Miller

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Game for a Game

In a sort of slinky gym vest and black tights JANE MILLER went out for a gambol with her jump-ball.

Very sporty bird is Jane. Loves games and all that. Along came a walking-stick case, an old gent with gout. He took one look at Jane, a secretary in Kingston, Surrey, threw away his walking-stick and galloped gamely towards her.

Inevitably he fell flat on his face.

Jane picked him up, gave him back his stick and helped him into a wheelbarrow. As the gamekeeper wheeled him away she said farewell with a smile and a wave. It cheered him up no end.

Sandra Morrell

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The Psychiatrist

Harry thought anybody who couldn't sort out his own problems but had to take them to a psychiatrist needed to have his head examined. His friend Oliver said that was the same thing, to which Harry replied it was all a lot of half-baked propaganda put about by blokes who had to make a living at it.

And then he met SANDRA MORRELL at a garden party, where there were lots of homemade cakes on view and a lot of home-made wine-tasting going on. Harry had tested them all by the time he bumped into Sandra, who was there in her official capacity as the garden party beauty queen or something equally exotic and ravishing.

Harry almost fell down. What a doll, he thought. He took her hand and pressed unsolicited kisses on it. Then he looked into her eyes and murmured, "Come and try my cherry tart, I made it myself." "Pardon me," said Sandra," but I never eat cherry tart with men who've had too much elderberry wine."

Harry was distraught. He went to see a psychiatrist next day to try and find out why elderberry wine made him so unattractive to women.

And after six visits, all at ten guineas a time, the psychiatrist told him it was because too much elderberry wine made him lurch sideways.