French Kisses at Christmas ; Dance Music On the Radiogram. Men in Khaki Dancing Under the Fairylights. And a Romantic Tryst with a Dashing Frenchman. How One Woman's Magically Evocative Diary Keeps Christmas 1942 As Vividly Alive As If It Were Yesterday ...

Summary

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THE FROZEN streets are darkened by the blackout, but in a snug Yorkshire sitting room the wartime gloom and austerity are temporarily suspended. A log fire blazes in the hearth and fairy lights sparkle.

At an upright piano Hilda Taylor, a vivacious woman with black hair, strikes up the opening chords of White Christmas. The table is piled with festive fare and the sofas have been pushed against the wall to make space for dancing.

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French Kisses at Christmas ; Dance Music On the Radiogram. Men in Khaki Dancing Under the Fairylights. And a Romantic Tryst with a Dashing Frenchman. How One Woman's Magically Evocative Diary Keeps Christmas 1942 As Vividly Alive As If It Were Yesterday ...

It is the night before Christmas 1942.

'Getting ready for a party in our house,' recalls Hilda's daughter Hazel in her diary. She is 15; her excitement barely suppressed. 'Mother phoned the YMCA to offer hospitality to servicemen away from home. Six soldiers have arrived and the room is a sea of khaki. Jean, Edith, Margaret, Mildred, Gilbert and Leslie Moorhouse are also here.

'Pierre is here, too! He is like somebody from The Desert Song in his flowing navy cloak lined with scarlet. He's in the Camel Corps [who served in the North...

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