LADIES’ PAGE.
Here is a quotation from a private letter, written with no thought of publication, and therefore giving a faithful, unvarnished picture of London during an air-raid. The writer is Miss Irene Miller, known both as a novelist and journalist. She says:—
"I couldn't send you a card last night to say we were all right, for long before the 'All Clear' signal was given we were all in bed and sound asleep. The 'All Clear' bugles just aroused me slightly, but only for half-a-second. I was dining at the Club when it commenced. The guns sounded very close, but nobody took any notice—nobody does now! The diners went on dining, the waitresses went on waiting, and when it came to the speechifying, the speakers went on speaking—though I do think it must have been a bit of an ordeal to make a speech with that hubbub outside.
"It was a very nice little meal. First soup, and then an entrée, something 'à la belle Otero,' which was baked potato with the top cut off, the contents mashed and mixed with cut-up oysters, and put back again and re-baked for a few minutes. Then turkey—plenty of it, with potatoes and sprouts; then what they called Italian pudding, made of a thin sort of macaroni with preserved cherries, very nice; and dessert. On the back of the toast-list was reproduced the cartoon from this week's Punch (Jan. 23)—one of Bernard Partridge's beautiful figures, attired as a knight-ess, on the top of a height, holding a banner marked 'Woman's Franchise,' and entitled, 'At last!’ It was said he was there: but I didn't see him.
"It was a bit of a job to get home afterwards, for the raid was not officially over, though we had heard nothing of it for about an hour (it was twenty to twelve now). So I went in the Tube. There were a lot of people taking shelter there, sitting about on the steps and platforms, but hundreds more were just going home in the ordinary way. The trains came along packed full, and they seemed running quite frequently. Lots of those taking shelter weren't really terrified. I know, for they were loving couples, making it a sort of Hampstead Heath on Bank Holiday. Each soldier and his girl spread a newspaper on the platform, sat down, and leant against the wall, with their arms around each other's necks and their heads on each other's shoulders (so to speak). There were little groups of such, on the giggle, and enjoying themselves immensely; and, of course, Mother couldn't scold if one stayed out with one's best boy, and explained that it was all the Air-Raid, could she? The firing recommenced very noisily after a while; and there were quite a lot of people out, but nobody took any notice, and when I got home the family were all comfortably in bed."
[An opening paragraph has been omitted, saying that although the 'hideous Germans' thought that Londoners were being cowed and terrified by the air-raids, it wasn't true.
La Belle Otero was a famous Spanish actress, dancer and courtesan. She was in her 40s at this time, and lived to be 96. According to Wikipedia, she had many aristocratic and royal lovers, including both the Kaiser and Edward VII. It doesn't say whether she was particularly find of potatoes and oysters.]
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