With the wind in her perm

I was bemused but delighted to hear from Hazel Fitzwilliam.

Bemused, because she wrote about my previous day’s piece and her letter, with second class stamp, arrived from Storridge, Herefordshire, in 24 hours.

Setting aside her wizardry, Hazel writes that when I say, of being grown up, that I have “‘been there, done that, got the T-shirt and elasticated-waist trousers’ wasn’t it considered a sign that one had gone Beyond Grown Up when seen wearing leather trousers?

“And I’ve never been a motorcyclist,” she adds. “In fact, the only time I’ve ever been on a powered two-wheeler was when my friend Muriel offered me a ride home from our jobs at Rootes Motors head offices on her Lambretta scooter, through the West End of Lond, decades ago.

“The only concession to safety wear was Muriel’s white Corker (or was it Everoak) safety helmet. I tied a headscarf over my Diana Dors perm.”

Three questions: Can you still get a Corker; what happened to the perm and did Muriel ever offer Hazel another lift home?

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