Monday, 20th February 1950

Dear Diary,

Well indeed, I must say I am rather baffled.  What should have been a perfectly romantic evening with Squadron Leader Jeremy Hunt has ended in complete disaster!  I am utterly confounded by Jeremy’s behaviour, surely it can’t be anything that I’ve done to upset him and heaven knows what the trouble is?

Jeremy seemed cheerful enough this evening when he came to pick me up in his red Morgan convertible. Luckily, I was ready long before Jeremy arrived, so with only three toots on the horn, I was whisked away into the night.  We motored around London’s West End for a jolly spree before parking outside a cinema.  They were showing a re-run of ‘Brief Encounter’ starring Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson.  Jeremy hadn’t seen it the first time around so I had to solemnly swear not to tell him what happens during the film.  I felt goose bumps as Jeremy paid 6d for two seats on the back row.

Jeremy had his arm around me throughout the Pathé News reel and when the Usherette arrived during the interval he was quick to get ahead of the rush to queue for a packet of cigarettes.  He returned triumphantly smoking a filter tip and offered me a boiled sweet from within a crumpled brown paper bag. We settled down to watch the main feature.

Towards the middle of the film I noticed Jeremy becoming rather a fidget.  He seemed so engrossed with the heart-wrenching story of the couple meeting secretly away from their spouses at the railway station café.  He was most definitely biting his nails during some of the more emotional scenes.  I couldn’t help it but I was starting to feel neglected. I foolishly assumed that Jeremy had no intention of actually watching the film.  After all, why go to the trouble of paying extra for back row seats?  I decided to take matters into my own hands and so gently squeezed Jeremy’s thigh in the hope that he would respond with affection.  Unfortunately, what was intended to be subtle and seductive became awkward and fumbled.  Suddenly, Jeremy jumped to his feet and made a hasty exit.  I was thoroughly mortified!  Oh dear, could I have really offended him so?

After a few moments I decided to go to find out what on earth was the matter with the poor chap.  I eventually found him, flustered and pacing up and down in the foyer smoking cigarettes like a trouper.  Jeremy took me in his arms so tenderly and held me close, saying that he’s been so awfully selfish and that I deserve much better. What was he trying to tell me and why wouldn’t he say it straight out?  Jeremy escorted me back to the convertible like a perfect gentleman and drove me home. So here I am in my bedroom all alone, nursing a cup of cocoa and wondering will I ever see my dashing fighter pilot again?

Tuesday, 14th February 1950

Dear Diary,

Oh my, what is a girl to do? I simply can’t decide what on earth to wear.  I’m so very excited about tonight’s date with my new beau, Jeremy. I met him last Saturday at the Winkle Club, after I had sung my final number. The Chicos del Liso Band played a shockingly up beat session that prompted a party of lively RAF boys to sweep many an unsuspecting girl onto the dance floor. Whilst sitting pretty, sipping a dry martini at the cocktail bar, a dashing fellow sporting a topper moustache gallantly escorted me to the dance floor and showed me his special moves.  I was enthralled to learn that Jeremy is an RAF pilot and I must say that he certainly has earned his wings!

I have to be ready by 7pm sharp because when Jeremy comes to pick me up in his Morgan convertible, he doesn’t like to hang a round. He says that a quick toot on his horn means that a girl should come running. What fun! To be whisked away for an evening of Valentine’s Day wooing. I wonder where he’ll take me? I do hope that he knows about that new French Bistro that’s just opened up in the High Street, with its cosy candle lit corners.  It’s simply the most divinely romantic place to dine, where a girl might just find a diamond ring surreptitiously hidden in her dessert.  That’s exactly what happened to my friend Grace, when darling Cupid fired his arrow in her direction last Valentine’s Day.  Her intended certainly didn’t bargain for a sudden shower of Crème de Menthe in the face, completely ruining his white dinner jacket with pale green spot stains. The poor girl nearly choked to death because the silly fellow hadn’t warned her about the engagement ring strategically hidden within her aperitif. (Note to self; make sure to double-check anything before putting into mouth).

Oh heavens to Betsy, I haven’t got long to get ready before Jeremy arrives and I’m still in a quandary about what to wear?  Choosing the right underwear is just as important as deciding on the right dress. I simply love the Jolie set by Kiss Me Deadly – a rather seductive combination of brief, bra and suspenders.  Naturally I’m going to wear black seamed stockings.  I wonder if Jeremy will receive the pleasure of watching me take them off!  Not on the first date mind…. Well, if I do get the chance to set alight his imagination this evening then I truly hope the poor fellow doesn’t suffer from a weak heart!

I’ve got two dresses from the boutique and both are simply gorgeous, but which one will make me positively irresistible this evening?  The red Alika Circle dress is oh so very playful and frightfully fashionable, yet the Eliza & Ethan Mariah Wrap Dress with button detail is seductively scrumptious and makes me feel like a doll.  Oh my goodness…could this be Jeremy’s car already?  Must go….

 

Sunday, 5th February 1950

Dear Diary,

Thank heavens for the Winkle Club, my one Saturday night sanctuary of sheer escapism! There I can sing on the stage and dream of a more glamorous lifestyle with no need to worry about dreary old rationing. Generally speaking though, since the end of clothes rationing last year I must say that I’ve enjoyed wearing a fuller skirt. That’s why I was delighted to show off my latest style with the side effects Polka Dot Dress for my sultry solo stage spot.

I do so admire Marlene Dietrich for singing numbers normally associated with male performers, that’s why I chose to sing "One For My Baby" to close the first act as a tribute to my heroine. The Chicos del Liso Band with a shockingly up beat session that really brought the house down accompanied the final number. A rowdy party of RAF boys, all having such a swell time on the dance floor, populated the club that evening.  The girls were totally swept off their feet!

After the show I colluded with the band at the cocktail bar, as we always do, in a toast to the success of the show.  Later, a familiar well to do voice called out my name and I was enthralled to discover the dashing R.A.F fellow I met at Dudley’s garage! Jeremy was sporting a topper moustache above his lovely smile and once again I dived straight into his cool blue eyes.  He very gallantly asked me to dance and of course I had to oblige, his skillful maneuvers almost made me swoon.

Later Jeremy offered to give me a ride home in his red Morgan convertible sports car, conveniently parked outside the club. Luckily I had popped a silk headscarf into my handbag earlier, so I was very glad to have it and slipped it over my hair before we sped off. Curiously, Jeremy took a wrong turning and we found ourselves parked on the Waterloo Bridge where I allowed him to steal a few kisses under the moonlight. Oh my, he is so very wonderful and I’m such a lucky girl to be courted by a dashing fighter pilot war hero!