Column: When Jackie was a girl's best friend

Good old Valentine's Day.

Monday, 20th February 2017, 3:33 pm
Updated Wednesday, 1st March 2017, 8:20 am
Carol Forster

This is the fabulous day when husbands and wives exchange the card - if they are wise - lovers hope to receive one and singletons either smile or weep depending on their luck.

I recall many years ago in the early throes of adolescence, seventies style, reading that tome of eternal knowledge and good fortune – ‘Jackie’ – which would prepare a girl for all eventualities.

Firstly, you’d have to look particularly good around the magical date and ensure your hair flicks were all in order.

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You might even be encouraged to buy a few new pots of Miners make-up and start doing those squats for a few weeks beforehand.

Perhaps even time for a new frock! Then, you would be advised to pass the object of your affection casually and smile. The ‘object’ probably thought you were three pence short of a farthing, as you beamed all lipstick at them.

You would also be strongly advised to spray yourself liberally with either a cheap perfume from the chemist’s or, in the case of young men, Brut. This would ensure success in the expectant card recipient’s favour, and possibly marriage!

Maybe blowing a few smoke rings in their direction (as ‘twas the time of liberal lung bashing) would ensure the satisfying plop of an envelope too.

Then came the ‘big one’, take the dog for a walk past your beloved’s house and hope they notice you there with your newly done hair, layered lipstick, Miners nails and absurd smile.

Yes! They noticed you alright and are probably considering the next plane out...

Of course, this didn’t take into account that hapless Malcolm was watching on and had indeed noticed that absurd smile, newly done hair, little frock and waft of Charlie and was planning a nice surprise.

So, on that special day when, according to ‘Jackie’, all self-respecting girls would get at least two satisfying cards, a parent might pass you the red envelope to open in the privacy of your bedroom, marked with a giant question mark.

Could it be him or her?

Sadly, your heart throb had by now left town while hapless Malcolm had a twinkle in his eye!

No worries. The next edition would advise how to deal with a broken heart...