My two older sisters are petite and pretty, I'm tall for my age and feel like a carthorse next to them. And I am very envious that they can do all the things that I would like to do, like wearing high heels and make-up and staying out late on dates, but I am constantly being told that I am too young for this and too young for that. They have lots of handsome boyfriends - they aren't interested in me, I'm still at the ugly duckling stage, and somehow four or five years is a big age gap when you are only 15 years old and the boys are around 20.

But at least they talk to me, boys can be very strange, they don't like to be caught talking to a girl in case they're thought to be interested in her. It's so silly; I like having boys as friends. I have to admit though; it gives me a good feeling if I'm seen talking to any of them by my girlfriends. I'd love to be able to pass one off as my boyfriend, but Sandra, who's my best friend isn't fooled. "Saw you talking to your Barbara's ex-boyfriend, don't imagine you stand a chance, will you?" We girls could be quite bitchy with one another.

Further down the road from our house lived two brothers, who were the same age as my sisters; I thought they were both very nice because they were happy enough to talk to me. The eldest, who had been in the same class at school as Mavis, was really gorgeous. Very tall, (and with me outgrowing everybody, that was very important) dark and handsome, with a nice lean figure as he also played football, in fact he lived football. I often saw him going to or coming back from a game, and he always said 'howdo' and asked after Mavis. I thought he was especially lovely because he was so natural and friendly towards me. I wish he could be Mavis's boyfriend - no point in me casting an eye at him. But then he got engaged. I had to admit; she was a lovely girl, very dainty and pretty, emphasizing my own lack of sophistication. (But, as with Keith - my day would come...)

Looked in Kemsley House window and saw photograph of me, Mavis and Barbara, taken at Mavis's birthday party. Someone staying at the Grand saw the photo too and recognised me - fame at last! I have started a fan club for The King Brothers, here in 1956; they are very, very popular. They are appearing at the Empire this week, went back stage to have a chat with them, discovered that we all like Count Basie who is appearing at the City Hall Friday night, they won't be able to go to the concert - but I shall!

My hair has grown, so I tried putting it in a 'bun' with the aid of a hairpiece shaped like a do'nut. I rather liked it, and felt quite grown up, but the reaction - from the porters in particular, did nothing for my esteem. I'd tried experimenting with make-up too, but it seemed to do nothing for me at all. Max Factor's 'Fire Engine Red' lipstick is very fashionable, but I already had lips that are rather too full, and rather too red. This red lipstick did not help at all. And when the very pale, whitey-pink lipstick became so fashionable, I couldn't wear that either with any measure of success, as the redness of my lips showed through.

Anita has handed in her notice, a nice girl called Lorna came for an interview. It was the Easter Break, all in all it turned out to be quite a weekend. Barbara got engaged to her boyfriend Ron, and we went to Swallow Falls in Wales on Easter Monday, where, strangely enough, I bumped into one of the guests who had been staying at the Grand. A nice young man, that I'd had my eye on, we looked at each other in astonishment, but said nothing, we hadn't got around to speaking yet, in fact if anything, I felt a little embarrassed, almost as if I'd followed him to Wales, which of course I hadn't - it was just one of those really bizarre coincidences.

Soon it will be Whitsuntide, a time when we all buy new clothes, and then go round the neighbours, showing them off, it is traditional for them to give us money - how much, depends on how nice we looked in our new clothes. Barbara always looked stunning and, consequently, got the most money! One year she wore a black, circular skirt trimmed with white ric-rac braid, a matching bolero, and a pretty white blouse. With her dark, shoulder length hair, blue eyes and slim figure, she looked terrific. I was very envious, and couldn't wait for her to grow out of it, so that I could have it! Unfortunately, by the time this happened, it was no longer fashionable - tight skirts were in, anyway it didn't look as good on me. I was always casting envious eyes at my sister's clothes, waiting for them to either tire of them, or grow out of them, (same with their boyfriends, really!).

This year I have chosen a lovely pink coat, with an unusual collar, a pink dress with fitted jacket - which Mum helps me to buy, and I find a lovely pair of pink shoes at Saxone, which are 49/11 - a lot of money to me, but I have to have them, they have a very pretty heel, not too high. Heels are very important, stilettos are just coming in, but the 3" ones that my sisters wear, are too high for me. I'm still learning to totter on these now fashionable slim heels, also, I don't want to seem to be too tall. Being the same height as a boy, is just about acceptable, being taller is not. Being several inches smaller - even in high heels, is very preferable! And I buy a matching pink bag, and pink gloves. (I look back and think that I must have looked like a blamange in all that pink - thankfully, we had stopped wearing hats!)

Thursday May 2nd - Carlton Wortly, The Earl of Wharnecliffe, a local toff, who fancies himself as a drummer, is appearing at the Empire. We three girls book a box, nearest to the stage, and get a lot of attention from the group, there's plenty of grimacing and winking going on between us. When Barry Tucker, the guitarist, refers to the Earl rather irreverently, as Charlie, he replies with a few choice swear words - quite shocking in those days!

Singer Lee Lawrence is topping the bill, but ballad singers were getting a raw deal at this time, everyone wants Rock'n Roll, and despite the Earl's amateurism, he's giving us the right kind of music, so he goes down well. Slim Whitman is appearing at the City Hall for one night only, and he is staying at the Grand. He's tall and slim, and has a small moustache, which really suits him. He really is very good looking, and gives me a lovely smile when I ask him for his autograph, Mavis is very envious of me, as he too, is one of her favourite singers.

May 9th - it's my birthday and I'm thrilled to get a brownie camera and immediately use up all the film taking photographs of everyone and everything, including the cat! (They're only black and white, but what did we know about colour anyway?).

Ventriloquist, Dennis Spicer, singing group, the Three Deuces comedian, Ken Dodd and comedienne Joan Turner are appearing at the Empire this week. I adore Dennis Spicer, he's young, good looking, and very much on the up. I tell Mr. Spitzer that, as a birthday present, Mum is booking a box to see the show and I would love to meet Dennis Spicer. So during the interval, I'm invited into Mr. Spitzer's office to meet my hero - and his dummy, James Green, dummies were quite frighteningly ugly in those days. Dennis is lovely, we have a little chat, and he gives me an autographed photo of himself and his dummy, and when he goes on stage to perform, he looks straight up at our box and tells the audience that it is a special little girl's birthday (I was sixteen!) He (his dummy, that is,) sings happy birthday to me. I'm thrilled that throughout his act he 'plays' to me, he always finished his act by singing 'At the End of the Day', and he looks up at our box and sings it to me. By the end of the evening, I am trembling with excitement, it has been a marvellous evening, and from then on, whenever I see Dennis on T.V. (it seems he is also a favourite of the Queen, and appears on The Royal Variety Performance) I feel that I am watching a special friend. (Sadly, Dennis was to die in a car crash about four years later, at an accident 'black spot', eerily, close to where I now live).

Lorna has taken the place of Anita; she has just left school, and like myself, wants to learn the switchboard. We click immediately, and become very good friends, but working opposite shifts means that we have very little chance to socialise outside of work, so instead of leaving work at 2.0pm when our shift has finished, either one of us stays behind for about an hour, chatting and catching up on what has been happening in the hotel, and swapping information on the hotel guests, until Mac, the assistant head porter catches us, and insists on one of us leaving. Mac has a real personality disorder. Lorna's a very pretty girl, slim, with short blonde hair and big blue eyes, (and that pale pink lipstick looks great on her!), but very shy. I'm exactly a year older, Lorna's birthday being on the 6th May, and I feel quite protective towards her. I've been working at the Grand for a good few months now, and beginning to be aware of the pitfalls of working in a hotel and meeting a diverse section of society. She is terrified of the switchboard, which she calls 'that machine', but soon gets the hang of it.

It is my weekend working in the switchroom, Frankie Lymon and The Teenagers are staying at the Grand, (They had several big hits - 'I'm not a Teenage Delinquent', 'Goody, Goody' etc.) they spend an awful lot of time sitting around in the front hall - right opposite the switchroom. I feel very self-conscious when I have to walk past them to take messages to the porter's desk, or take receipts to the reception. They laugh and giggle a lot, and even wolf whistle as I go past. Mac comes into the switch room and tells me off! Eventually, Vernon, one of the Teenagers, came into the switchroom to ask me for a date! I'm horrified; he is only 12 years old! But I'm delighted to get all their autographs.

My heart leapt as the formidable figure of Mr. Rendell, the manager, suddenly entered the switchroom - why does he always make me feel as though I'm doing something wrong? He spares me a brief glance, and demands that I ring his office. I do as he says but there is no reply, I attempt to tell him, the first words I have ever spoken to him, but the words won't come. I've never been this close to the manager before, his bulk seems to fill the small room and I'm shaking like a leaf, he gives an impatient sigh and storms out almost colliding with his secretary. "Ah there you are", he greets her, "I've just been trying to ring you, but the stupid girl doesn't seem to understand a word I say". What! I really am sick and tired of being treated like an idiot, and I don't doubt he will have something to say to Barbara, the head telephonist, greatly exaggerated, probably. She will be sympathetic, but it won't do my credibility any good. It would take a visit from The Duke of Edinburgh himself, for me to finally decide that it was time to move on.