Tuesday 28th June 1949

Dear Diary,

Grace and I decided to treat our selves the other night and go out to the flicks. We couldn’t resist seeing that new comedy film “Whiskey Galore” starring Basil Radford, Joan Greenwood and Catherine Lacey.

The film was based on an event in 1941, when the S/S Politician sank just off shore of the Outer Hebrides carrying 250,000 bottles of whiskey.  It makes a nice change to watch a true story from the War that doesn’t involve battle scenes. Grace and I do love to spot the mistakes at the movies; the local whiskey looters couldn’t possibly have kept their rowing boats afloat carrying so many crates of whiskey bottles. Ooh!  How we laughed! 

Grace and I fancied a wee tipple after the cinema. So we popped into the nearest pub lounge and ordered a whiskey cocktail. The landlady very kindly gave us the recipe.  

TEX COLLINS

This tall, dry, refreshing cocktail combines grapefruit, gin and honey. It is based on a recipe in Esquire’s ‘Handbook for Hosts’ (1949).

Ingredients

Two shots of Gin

Two spoons of Honey

Two shots of grapefruit juice

Top up with Club Soda

Garnish with a slice of lemon

First dissolve a couple of spoons of runny honey with gin in the base of the shaker.

Add freshly squeezed grapefruit juice and shake with ice for a few seconds. Strain into a tall glass filled with ice cubes. Top up with soda water and add a slice of lemon in the drink to garnish.

Tuesday 21st June 1949

Dear Diary,

Frilly knickers are front-page news! I was enthralled to read tonight’s Evening Standard reporting of a delicious fashion faux pas at Wimbledon. Evidently, the tennis set didn’t approve of Gussie Moran’s ruffle lace trimmed panties! Her outfit certainly caused a sensation when the press jostled for position to photograph a glimpse of the lace as she served the ball.

The event has scandalized Wimbledon and furthermore “Gorgeous Gussie” is accused of bringing 'vulgarity and sin into tennis' by the committee of the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club. I say, how absurd! What’s more, there’ll be a debate in Parliament, about frilly knickers of all things!

I would most definitely like to applaud Ted Tinling, the designer of Gussie Moran’s outfit for a splendid job well done! I had the enormous pleasure of meeting Mr Tinling when he visited the boutique quite recently. He appeared to be an odd sort of fellow, at first; wearing a raincoat and demonstrating a curious fetish for my range of ruffle panties.

Nevertheless, Mr Tinling asked some pertinent questions about sewing the ruffle technique. He seemed to be rather well informed about knickers, for a gentleman! I was astonished when he eventually disclosed his plan to design Gussie Moran’s tennis outfit with specific instructions to include the famous frillies. Oh my golly gosh! It’s delightful to think that our conversation has influenced the national headlines!

Tuesday, 7th June 1949

Dear Diary,

Oh my word! Such a disastrous dinner date last night with Gerard. I should have suspected something fishy, since he had already cancelled our date twice! Still, I agreed to meet him after all, especially as I was so looking forward to seeing him again.

Monsieur Gerard was positively dazzled when I arrived wearing the glamorous Dotty Polka Dot Dress and a super pair of killer heels. His restaurant in Chelsea is called Le Rire Crevette (in English; The Laughing Prawn) a peculiar name for a restaurant, I thought. All seemed wonderful as Gerard welcomed me through the door and ushered me towards a candlelit table in the corner.  An accordion player and violinist manoeuvred themselves beside the table, playing a romantic melody. The setting was perfect.

With just a click of his fingers a troupe of waiters advanced in military fashion, to pour red wine and deliver pretty plates of tasty haute cuisine. Oh my, and they were so delightfully neat and tidy to eat! Gerard and I were having such a ball; I noticed that my wine glass was frequently topped up.

Suddenly a very fashionable, yet remarkably distressed young lady burst into the restaurant shouting and screaming in fluent French. It soon became obvious that the object of her fury was none other than my date! Gerard tried to calm her, but was promptly slapped repeatedly about the face. A woman scorned can only represent such an appalling display of hysteria. My theory was confirmed when an expertly thrown glass of red wine labelled me as the ‘other’ woman. My beautiful polka dot dress was ruined, along with my association with Gerard. I maintained my composure and left the restaurant with my head held high. What a disgrace!  I will most definitely send my laundry bill to The Laughing Prawn!