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Non-Catholic breasts are no different to Catholic breasts - as I was later to find out in my research as a young man. Oh the bad poems I wrote to 'breasts by moonlight'! On 29 October 2015 at 12:15, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > thanks, Andrew, and others. > > I expected Brylcreem to stir a few, but maybe it was confined in territory. > > I’m struck by the key terms you use, Andrew: > > non-Catholic and breasts. > > Could there be a genetic/cultural link? > > Max > > On Oct 28, 2015, at 17:23, Andrew Burke <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > > > Ah, memories of dancing. Lovely. I remember the controversy when I took a > > non-Catholic girl to our school dance. She had lovely breasts and showed > > them off to advantage. I was so proud of my sophisticated lady ... > > > > Thanks, Max > > > > Andrew > > > > On 29 October 2015 at 05:04, Patrick McManus < > [log in to unmask]> > > wrote: > > > >> ah heady days of youth!! they seem to have season tickets and have a > >> litter problem on Everest now -thanks P > >> > >> -----Original Message----- From: Max Richards > >> Sent: Wednesday, October 28, 2015 3:19 PM > >> To: [log in to unmask] > >> Subject: 'Coronation Year Skills ' > >> > >> > >> Coronation Year Skills > >> > >> Edmund Hillary and co. were back > >> from ‘conquering Everest’ - all > >> New Zealand glowed with pride, > >> > >> wanting to hear him - and we did. > >> The whole school attended the event - > >> other schools were there in force. > >> > >> He was mild, soft-spoken - one of us, > >> also athletic and determined. > >> He praised the Sherpas, as we > >> > >> would have done. It pleased him > >> that the Brits had run the show, > >> choosing him for his climbing skill, > >> > >> He’d knocked it off in Coronation > >> Year! That topped it off; > >> the same year that began my life > >> > >> in ballroom dancing, practicing > >> the new ‘Queen Elizabeth Waltz’. > >> Cousin Marie, my age, said: > >> > >> ‘Join! it’s cheap, it’s Friday night. > >> I and my friends will ease you in.’ > >> John from my class was in > >> > >> already, the walk was short > >> from his place to the back-garden > >> dance-shed of our instructor. > >> > >> We went together. Oh, the pain! > >> dressed in new ‘strides’, stiff shirts, > >> hair Brylcreemed down. John > >> > >> it suited, his black shoes shone. > >> Biking to his place I was in a sweat, > >> worse now in the bright-lit room > >> > >> thronged with girls in skirts and blouses, > >> and smart shining hair - their feet > >> I knew I’d tread on, red-faced. Don’t > >> > >> look down, smile! listen and respond! > >> And learn the foxtrot and the waltz! > >> All much too hard. Marie helped, > >> > >> her friends had been alerted. Others > >> made me freeze, falter and stumble. > >> The gramophone was old, our teacher’s > >> > >> records scratched, except the new one: > >> da-da da-da da-di-da - > >> the Queen Elizabeth Waltz. > >> > >> All winter we practiced. Round > >> and round, skirts swirled, dizzying. > >> She’d have been proud, Her Majesty. > >> > >> Others may have got to some ball > >> and done it to live music - I’d > >> be on my bike skulking elsewhere. > >> > >> Once only there was a school dance. > >> Thank you, dear old cousin, for kind > >> attendance with your friends. > >> > >> Next year - was it? - waltzing was eclipsed - > >> Hillary’s country! - swept out everywhere. > >> Rock and roll - American - swung in there. > >> >