Word: londoners
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...LONDON--There are large poster scattered through London, proclaiming that "We Work or Want," and calling for yet another example of the old "British Grit." Americans, seeing them, and already impressed with the tired fight of the British people against war's nasty afterbirth, accept them as one more indication of the austere and lean life in 1947 England. But an interesting reaction seems to be setting in among the British themselves. "England is not so badly off" is a common answer to sympathetic questions about conditions, and there seems to be a new resentment of American pity...
...easier by the fact that Australians still have definite ideas of what kind of immigrants they want: ten Britons to one from other lands, very few "reffos" (Aussie for European refugees), few southern Europeans, and, in the long-established Australian tradition, no Asiatics. Last week Calwell flew to London to pound tables and find out why only 6,000 of 186,000 Britons who have applied for immigration to Australia can get berths on Australia-bound ships this year...
Piccadilly Circus was jammed with Londoners and country folk braving showers in summer frocks and flannels. Red bunting, dripping in the rain, hung from the steel railings, and gramophone records blared London Pride. In a clean white apron and battered hat, wizened old Polly Beecham, who has sold her flowers at the foot of the statue for 50 years, was agog with excitement. "I loike 'im," she exclaimed as the returning hero was hoisted into place. "'E's my companion, see?" A dewy-eyed lass in the crowd confessed her devotion just as shamelessly. "I cyme...
...know, but we'll hang 'em on the scaffolding." There was some dull speechmaking. But what the crowd wanted most of all was a good long look at their old friend. Armed with a brand-new bow, he looked happy to be back. "In his exile," mused London County Council's Lord Latham, "Eros must often have wondered what was happening in Piccadilly." The crowd laughed knowingly. "I am not going into details...
...barnlike recording studio in London, a trim, middle-aged actor in a fawn-colored Savile Row suit sat down last week before a microphone. Adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses, he spoke to a technician in the crisp Mayfair accent that is known to theatergoers the world over: "All I want is lots and lots of water to drink and to have a frightful fuss made over me." Noel Coward, 47, was taking his first serious crack at radio...