Cynthia berättar:
The party was fancy dress and to be attended by numerous famous and infamous pop celebrities. It was a wonderful night. We all enjoyed the frivolity of dressing-up and making silly fools of ourselves. John really went to town. He went back in time and arrived as the greasiest and most objectionable looking Teddy boy, covered in chains and leather. I couldn’t have been more opposite in my choice of dress. I looked like the lady on the front of a Quality Street [chocolates] tin, all crinoline, bonnets and bows. The party was progressing beautifully and when the dancing began it was take-your-partners time. John made a bee-line for Pattie who was looking incredibly sexy in her eastern-dancer’s-seven-veils-and-not-much-else outfit. John hogged Pattie for quite a time and I was left sitting primly and stiffly, very much out in the cold. A guest on our table, the lovely Lulu, also noticed John’s over-enthusiastic attentions towards Pattie, and sat next to me full of indignation at my plight. She really was funny, dressed in a Shirley Temple outfit of short spotted dress. Her hair was beautifully ringleted and tied at the top with an enormous bow, short white socks and a giant lollipop which finished off her detailed ensemble. Pint-sized Lulu took it into her head to give John a good telling off. It was such a lovely sight, Lulu cornering John and giving him what for. John was very much taken aback by Shirley Temple’s serious lecture on how to treat his wife.

I wasn’t totally without dancing partners, however. Billy J Kramer was dressed as the soldier from Quality Street, and we made a lovely couple, until we tried to jive instead of waltz. Full of food and wine and high spirits I forgot my crinoline was not the right kind of dress for energetic gyrations and ended up red-faced on the floor, bonnet over my eyes and masses of material billowing out like a huge lavender balloon around my crumpled body. I always find that when I am trying to compete or make an impression I end up making a fool of myself. John’s looks in my direction on that occasion were not of love or admiration, but pure embarrassment. I was letting him down yet again.