Annette Ridgeway

/

The Story Of My Life

It's been a series of demoralising misses, said Jack Boggletonk. To start with, as soon as I was ten, I knew there was something about girls that my parents hadn't told me about. Kind of hypnotic, they were, and the way they went tweet-tweet after Sunday School fascinated me.

I was dead gone on one called Rosie. But by the time I plucked up enough courage to ask her to my birthday party, she'd changed her religion.

Then when I was fifteen, I was mad on a cracking little blonde called Marie. Just as I was about to treat her to a seat in the cinema, up came a feller twice my size and she went home to tea with him.

And then take this stunning brunette you're looking at now. ANNETTE RIDGEWAY. Marvellous. Lovely figure, gorgeous legs and the nicest disposition. I saw her picture in a paper and after thinking about her for a month and not hardly having any sleep, I wrote her the most romantic letter I could think of.

The post office returned it, saying Miss Ridgeway had just gone to the South of France on her honeymoon, and that she was now a Mrs. Some fellers have all the luck, marrying girls like that. I don't have any luck at all.

I keep missing.

Beautiful Britons No 169 - December 1969

Annette Ridgeway

/

Third Time Lucky

“Take your time,” said the examiner in a hearty, friendly voice, “get yourself comfortable and then start her up.”

And ANNETTE RIDGEWAY LE GREASLEY (pronounced “Graylee” by the way) gave a nervous smile, murmured “Oh dear, well here goes,” and started off on her third driving examination. Poor Annette had failed on the first two occasions and two failures don’t exactly help your confidence at the third attempt.

Praying she’d miss all the lamp-posts and not mount any pavements, she concentrated hard. She was so delighted when the examiner passed her as okay, that on the way back she parked the car and bought herself a new hat. She didn’t need one but it was that kind of occasion. A carnival queen and a great favourite in beauty contests, Annette looked lovely in her new hat. Emerging from the shop she found a traffic warden taking her number.

“Cor,” he said when he saw her.

“Are you giving me a ticket?” asked Annette.

“That was my unshakeable resolve, dear lady,” said the traffic warden, “but I’ve come all over irresolute. All right, nip off while the going’s good. How much did they rush you for the chapeau?”

“I didn’t ask,” said Annette, “they’re sending the bill to my husband.” And when her husband got the bill he sent the hat back and the bill as well. Otherwise we’d have shown you what a lovely hat it really was.