Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 25641Unread post Bazil
18 Feb 2018, 12:51

London Life July 15, 1939 pp. 22 — 23
Hints To "Colleen On Crutches"
Dear Sir, — I have been very interested in the letter of "Colleen on Crutches" and the answers she had from "Walking on Two" and "Left Leg Only", but I have been waiting to see some more — hence my not writing this letter before. All these letters I read very carefully, and I am in entire agreement with "Colleen" that an artificial leg is a very graceless way for a one-legged girl to get about. As a man, perhaps my view will give "Colleen" a new angle, for I endorse nearly all that "Left Leg Only" said in her letter.
The inferiority complex appears to be "Colleen's" major stumbling block, for in other ways she is a brave, sensible girl.
She wishes to make the best of her appearance, and she had no qualms that, because she is minus a leg, she is at all unattractive.
There are many men (and I imagine women also) who think that a girl swinging along on slender crutches looks very attractive, especially if she is dressed well and wears a neat shoe on her one foot. "Colleen" wisely tries, and no doubt succeeds, to make herself look graceful in spite of being a cripple. It is definitely her inferiority complex that makes her worry about her half-empty skirt and whether or not others walk faster than she does. All these little troubles will soon pass if she concentrates more on what she calls her "triumphs", and feels happy and grateful that she is able to do lots of things many one-legged girls cannot. She can swim and walk long distances no mean achievements for a monopede — and all this spells sound, good health; and surely that is a thing to be thankful for.
"Left Leg Only" advises her to tell men how she lost her leg.
As a man, I say she would be wise to follow this advice. When they hear her story, they will most certainly sympathise, and they will then get to know her for herself.
She has written to your paper in the hope of getting helpful advice to enable her to overcome her complex, but up to now she has had only two ladies who have troubled who give her the help she needs.
May I, as just a man, add my own views by telling her to carry on as "Left Leg Only" has suggested, more particularly as to points two, four, eight and ten. I rather doubt whether she would be able to wear a false leg even if she wished to, as she says that her leg was amputated only 5 inches below the groin, so I do not think that there would be enough stump left, to which an artificial leg could be fitted.
She is over-conscious of her skirt hanging loosely over the outline of her stump, which she pluckily calls her shortened leg.
She will add to her charm as she swings along on her one remaining leg by clothing it well in a silk stocking and wearing a high heeled shoe on her one and only foot.
Let her be resigned to the fact that she cannot walk at all without her crutches, and she will get a tremendous thrill in their use and in the fact that she is very different from most girls and far more attractive in her one-leggedness than many with two.
Yours truly,
A Mere Man.


London Life July 29, 1939 p. 9
Two On One
Dear Sir, — I am 23 years of age and have been going out to business for five years, being engaged in the office of which my father is a director.
When I commenced going to business, I used to travel on the same bus as a very charming one-legged girl. After a few mornings we spoke to each other, and soon became friends. She could hop quite nimbly on and off the bus on her one leg with the aid of a single crutch.
She came home with me one evening and my parents said she could come and live with me, because she had told me she had lost her parents and was in digs.
The first night when we were having a quiet smoke in the bedroom just before getting into bed, she told me she was only 16 when she lost her left leg, which had been amputated just above the knee.
As time went on, I grew to admire more than ever the graceful way in which Margaret hopped along on her crutch, on all intents quite unconscious as to the loss of her leg. Little did I dream that I, too, was destined to become one-legged. However, three years ago I fell down stairs, badly fracturing my right leg, from which complications set in. One morning in the nursing home the doctor gave me a thorough examination and then injected something in my knee. This must have sent me off to sleep, because when I woke up the lights were on in my room.
When the nurse saw that I was awake, she asked me how I felt, I told her I felt quite drowsy and my right leg seemed all on fire, which I could not move, and my thigh was jumping in a most erratic manner. She told me that my leg had been amputated that morning above the knee, and that the jumping was caused by the nerves.
Next day Margaret came in to see me and, propping her crutch against the wall just inside the room, she hopped on her one leg to the bedside and, and with her delightful smile said, "You will be doing this, Doris, in a few weeks, but it will be on the opposite leg to mine." She was a brick to me after my leg had been amputated, almost making me forget that I was one— legged.
One day when Margaret came I was wheeling myself about in a chair, and whilst she was there a nurse measured me for a pair of crutches. Under her guidance at home I soon got used to hopping about on crutches, and she came away with me to the seaside for a few weeks whilst I was recuperating from the loss of my leg. She left her firm for this purpose, and when we got home she commenced with the firm my father is connected with. We had a nice time; but, my word, didn't we two one-legged girls come in for a lot of attention from everyone as we hopped along, Margaret on one crutch, and poor me on a pair! However, in six months I was back to business, a happy one-legged girl, and hopping also on only one crutch.
Of course I am now quite acclimatised to only having one leg, and I can hop about the bedroom like my friend, without the aid of my crutch, whilst I am preparing my toilet and dressing in the mornings. I should imagine we make a rather unusual sight hopping about one-legged together.
Incidentally, we have both been using a pole crutch now for about twelve months. This type of crutch is much lighter and easier to handle than the bow type. They are sprung under the armpit rest with another internal spring at the bottom, which with one's pressure sinks into the thick rubber pad at the crutch end, thus obviating any jarring under the arm and also being quite silent with this kind of pneumatic idea.
Our latest stunt is to wear trousers with one leg cut short, and this also applies to our pyjama suits. It is undoubtedly better than having an empty trouser leg dangling and flapping helplessly about.
The bus conductors on our route are cheerful fellows, and as we hop on and off they always were chuffed about us and our missing legs.
It is all meant in good fun, and we appreciate it as such and give them as good back again. After all, because we are one-legged we not take it any more seriously.
We have quite a number of boyfriends who seem to vie with one another to take us out, for some reason preferring Margaret and I to their two-legged friends. Of course we do not mind this, but I must confess that when we are alone we often debate as to the reason why our one-legged condition should appeal, as it undoubtedly does, so obviously to them. It certainly is a little incomprehensible, particularly from our point of view.
I am rather inclined to think that perhaps some one-legged readers may look upon us as a couple of silly one-legged tomboys, but having our legs amputated at such an early age, makes it easier to ignore the loss of a leg, and also enables us to get about quite as agile on the one leg which Fate has decreed we should only possess, as some people can on two.
I hope you can publish this letter, which I can assure you, comes from two of your regular one-legged girl readers who do not suffer any qualms about their loss, and who also hope that all other one-legged readers can look on their incomplete state in the same way.
Yours truly,
Two One-Legged Girls.


London Life August 5, 1939 p. 18 -19
Sarah Biffen, "The Limbless Wonder"
Her parents thought her a "Pixie Child", but she lived to paint Edward VII and the Ex-Kaiser's mother.
"Aye, thou can coom in now, Garge Biffen, it's a girl. And marcy on us, what a girl!" Said the matronly looking, poorly clad woman as she opened the door of the sleeping room, which was feebly lighted by two flickering rushlights, and admitted George Biffen, the father of the new-born child.
"And how is Sarah, Mary?" he asked, in the slow but not unmusical drawl of the Somersetshire rustics.
"Finely," was the reply. "She be just a-droppin' off to sleep, so don't wake 'er, Garge."
Garge nodded. His slow brain comprehended that sleep was his wife's best medicine.
"An' the babby, Mary?" as a faint cry came from the bed where the woman was lying.
"Sarah be a cuddlin' it up to her," said the woman called Mary, who was George Biffen's sister.
"You won't blame it on her, will 'e, Garge? It baint poor Sarah's fault! When I took the baby from 'er it was a small sized un, too. I thought I had died! Garge, it 'as no limbs. I fear the pixies 'ave lopped 'em off!"
The yokel's slow brain found difficulty in comprehending his sister's statement.
"No limbs?" he muttered. "D'yer mane no arms an' no legs?"
"Yes, Garge."
"God in 'eaven! Then 'ow can the kid work for its livin'? Mary you should have smothered it afore Sarah saw it. It be a pixie, sure enough!"
"I thought so, too," said his trembling sister, "but I was feared, mort'ly feared! The law, Garge — the law!"
"Feared?" said the man. "It'd be a marcy."
"So I thought; but it 'as sich a pretty little face and, Garge, it'd be murder!"
"Maybe so," said her brother, "but summat 'ad to be done. I'll step down to the village and ask parson wot's to do."
This wise decision of her father saved, in all probability, the limbless mite's life.
The kindly old clergyman visited Biffen's cottage, inspected the child, which was entirely limbless though otherwise perfectly healthy, and ultimately baptised her "Sarah", after her mother, with strict injunctions that she was to be treated merely as a crippled child. She grew up in the squalid surroundings of a farm labourer's cottage, and showed remarkable intelligence at an early age. Unable to walk, she learned to roll and trundle herself about. She could pick up things with her mouth, and was in all respects normal, save that she was armless and legless.
The fame of the limbless child spread far and wide, and from being a burden she became a source of revenue for her parents.
The vicar of East Quantoxhead, near Bridgewater, where Sarah was born, taught her to read; and, once she knew her letters, Sarah taught herself to write by holding a pencil in her mouth and, with infinite pains, copying their formation on paper.
By the time she was seven, Sarah Biffen could read and write well — then a rare accomplishment for a West country farm labourer's daughter — and used to be carried and wheeled in a barrow by her mother, sometimes of a night when a paper arrived from Bath or Bristol, to the taproom of the village inn, where she would read the news to the yokels of the execution of Marie Antoinette and other tragedies and events of the French Revolution.
The villagers, even her own parents, although they were outwardly kind to limbless Sarah, regarded her with badly concealed aversion. The village children, like their fathers and mothers, regarded her as a "pixie child", and had it not been for the benevolent clergyman, her childhood would indeed have been an unhappy one.
Sarah becomes an Artist.
He placed the books in the rectory library at her disposal. She read them with avidity and grew wise beyond her years. Then she commenced to copy engravings and woodcuts and, thanks to her aptitude for taking infinite pains, was soon able to draw and sketch. When she was 12, Sarah arrived at the height of 37 inches and never grew taller, although her body in proportion to her size assumed womanly proportions.
At last the turning point in her career arrived.
A Mr. Dukes came one day to Quantoxhead and watched limbless little Sarah write and draw with great interest. He next sought out George Biffen, her father, whom he accompanied to the village inn, where, over mugs of cider, followed by ale, a deep and lengthy conversation was carried on. Eventually a 5 Ј note was pressed into Biffen's hand, who promptly shambled from his seat and returned to his cottage, where, after a little explanation, Sarah agreed to bind herself to Mr. Dukes for sixteen years, in return for 5 Ј per annum, he to pay for all necessaries and provide what she required to keep her in health and decency.
From that moment limbless Sarah became the man's slave. He conveyed her all over the country from fair to fair, where she was exhibited as "The Limbless wonder" in a booth where, according to locality, from 3 d. to 1/— was charged for admission.
Perched upon a pedestal, with a kind of easel beside her, Sarah used to write her autograph for a penny, and write letters at dictation from 3 d. each, according to their length, draw crayon portraits, and paint little landscapes.
Dukes made large sums by exhibiting the "Limbless wonder", whom he overworked shamefully and even compelled her to paint landscapes and portraits of celebrities on Sundays, which he sold for considerable amounts. This went on until, at the age of 28, Sarah's sixteen years of servitude expired.
Strange to say, at the very last place she was exhibited as the "The Limbless Wonder", Fortune for the first time smiled upon poor Sarah Biffen.
It was at Swaffam Race Week in 1812. Lord Morton and some friends paid their shillings and entered the booth to see "The Limbless Wonder" paint miniature portraits from two to three guineas, and perform other extraordinary exploits with brush and pen held in her mouth.
He was amazed at the little creature's artistic ability, entered into conversation with her and heard her life story, with the result that, as her contract with Dukes was on the point of expiring, he took her away and arranged for her further art training by a famous portrait painter and illustrator of the period, named Craig. Under this tuition, Sarah progressed rapidly. Several exhibitions of her works in art galleries followed, and her water colours fetched high prices.
Both George IV and William IV visited the exhibitions and purchased her pictures.
Eventually in l821 she was awarded the Gold Medal of the Society of Arts, and commissions commenced to pour upon her. Having miniatures painted on ivory was almost as popular at that period as having one's photograph taken is now, and for some years Sarah Biffen made a good income.
Later she attracted the attention of queen Victoria, who always took a great interest in out-of-the-ordinary people. Her Majesty's patronage of Van Ambergh, the lion tamer, and of "Tom Thumb", is well known and as soon as she heard that "Miss Biffen", the fashionable miniature painter, was a limbless freak, she expressed desire to see her.
Of course the Queen's desire was satisfied, and Sarah was commissioned to paint miniature portraits of the late King Edward and his sister, who afterwards became the ex-Kaiser's mother.
Soon after this, Sarah left London and resided in Liverpool, where for some years she made a profitable living by her art.
Then, as old age commenced to creep on her, she began to lose control over the muscles of neck and mouth, which were, of course, highly developed. Valiantly, she struggled, but overwork exacted its toll and she gradually lost control and became almost unable to paint. She struggled bravely on for some years. Debts accumulated, and finally the poor little artist succumbed.
Destitution stared her in the face. Creditors pressed, and finally she was sold up.
The strain on her neck and labial muscles distorted her once pretty face and she looked old and haggard. She had arrived at that stage when she was still talked about by the older generation but forgotten by the younger.
It will be remembered by readers of Dickens that Mrs. Nickleby mentions Miss Biffen in — if the writer's memory serves him right — the chapter where Mrs. Nickleby describes how her eccentric neighbour courted her by throwing melons and other fruits of the earth over his garden wall into Mrs. Nickleby's garden as tokens of his regard!
The probabilities are that poor little Sarah Biffen would have ended her days either as a freak at country fairs, as she had commenced her career, or else had become an inmate of the workhouse, which in her day and generation, as all readers of Dickens know, was an abode of dread.
Fortunately she was spared from these fates.
Mr. Richard Rathbone, a member of the firm of artists' colour-men who used to supply her in her palmy days with the paints and pigments she used in her work, raised a fund and was successful in obtaining sufficient money for this brave little limbless woman to end her days in peace.
Sarah Biffen, whom her ignorant, superstitious parents more or less shunned as a "pixie child", and who spent her girlhood and early womanhood in worse than slavery, to be gaped up and guffawed in wonderment on account of her pre-natal deformities, passed away on October 3, 1850, aged 66.


London Life August 12, 1939 p. 20
A Study From Life
Dear Sir, — Those of your readers who are interested in the subject of monopedes would no doubt be pleased to see this tracing of a study from life. The original was formerly a London tea-shop waitress; but, of course, her "waiting" days are now over.
Incidentally, this appears to be the ideal angle for a dainty monopede to display her charms if she wishes to retain her incognito.
Why have we not heard further of "Monopede Swimmer" — one of the dainties you have ever portrayed?
Yours truly,
Observer.


London Life August 26, 1939 pp. 28 — 29
Dress For The Maimed
by Joan Joyce Roper
When I was asked to write a fashion article telling how lame girls hide their afflictions, I knew it was not going to be easy, because not many normal people understand what we go through.
Being born lame is not half so bad as being lamed later in life, and I think it is much worse for a girl than it is for a man. Nobody seems to mind a man being twisted, or one-legged, or having a club foot, but they look at a girl as much as to say, "I'm sorry that happened to you. It does spoil you, doesn't it?"
Some get furious, and wish that people wouldn't look or stare so, and wonder if it is our clothes that are wrong. Lame people are terribly conscious about their clothes, and try to hide their deformities by wearing sashes and capes, and plain shoes in stead of fancy ones.
Before I begin to talk about "Dress for the Maimed", I want to explain what seems to be a mystery to some of your readers who write and say that a one— legged girl has a nice figure and a face like a flower.
Well, wouldn't you try to make people look at your face and head if you knew your feet spoil you? If you had a club foot, for instance, wouldn't you look after your hair and your complexion, so that people wer staring at your feet?
I have a friend who is one-legged. She lost her leg in a road accident when she was 16, and it hurt her more than I can say, because her ambition was to become a dancer on the stage.
Every time she picks up her crutch to help her to walk, a funny expression goes over her face. It is bitter, and her lips twist sarcastically, and it quite spoils her until one of us (and all her friends are lame) says something nice about her hair or her figure. Then she cheers up again. Sometimes she reads articles by Wallace Stort, but she doesn't agree with them at all. She says that it is silly for a one-legged girl to wear a frock that is very short. On the contrary, she says that a lame girl, more than any other, ought to wear smart and fashionable clothes, but not go to extremes.
I have drawn Marina's latest afternoon frock and hat for you to use, and I am sure that you agree with me that it is quite smart without drawing to much attention to her remaining leg. The dress is made from midnight blue taffeta and cut with a low neck to show pretty shoulders. A big diamond clip attracts the eyes to the bosom, as do the full puffed and quilted sleeves, leading the attention to the upper part of the figure and not to the lower half. The fashion "trick" serves to disguise the missing limb.
The puffed sleeves of the gown also conceal the heavy underarm padding that is necessary to keep the wear and tear of a daily used crutch from the under-arm, a most important item.
The hat is of fez shape and made from the same taffeta as the frock, with a concealing veil of fine silver mesh, which enhances in turn the diamond neck clip and draws the eyes to the neck and shoulders.
The skirt sways enough to conceal the fact that one of her legs is missing, and allows her freedom to walk, get on and off buses, and move as gracefully as her lamed state will allow. I don't agree with Mr. Stort that a very short skirt adds to the appeal of a one-legged girl. It doesn't, because it shows too much, and if the skirt is very tight it enhances the thing she wishes to hide. The modern swing skirts seem almost designed for lame girls, because they don't impede movement and do not make the loss of a limb too conspicuous.
Evening Dress for the Lame.
I expect a lot of you who go to dances curse the new long frocks that sweep the ground, but we lame folk don't. A long dress hides a thin leg, a club foot, a missing limb, and even those ugly irons that go up the leg to support a weak or shattered bone. In a long dress that conceals all her deficiencies a lame girl feels happy because there is nothing on view that differentiates her from any other girl. It is a thrill for her when a young man comes up and begs her for a dance, even though she has to refuse him politely and explain that she is maimed.
I have a friend who suffered from infantile paralysis and had about a dozen operations by clever surgeons. The result ended in her left leg being sound, but it is very thin and weak, and she can't stand on it or even dress herself without some assistance, and has to wear leg-irons up to he hip. But she can dance well because she has found that she can take all the fancy steps with her right leg and save the left for simple ones, and her partner's supporting arm help a lot.
Having pretty shoulders and a pretty figure, this girl (Glenda) dresses up to them. She wears the long type of dinner dress that falls to the floor and hides her maimed leg, but she shows plenty of bare shoulders and arms and sometimes a back that her boyfriend says is the loveliest he had ever seen — and he has seen a few!
All girls concentrate on showing face, neck, arms and shoulders, and concealing their legs. But for girls who have a withered or malformed arm it is the other way about. They go in for cape effects, and they don't mind showing their legs, so their skirts are a bit shorter than usual.
But legs are our problem.
The second sketch I have made shows an evening dress that disguises a girl's bad leg when she has to wear iron supports that strap round the leg.
The dress is made from oyster satin and is cut full at the back to allow for freedom of movement. The bustle-like sash hides the leg-irons. A trail of scarlet roses adds charm to the falling sash, and the colour of the roses is echoed by red paste earrings and a bracelet, and the aigrette worn in the hair. (This leads the eye upwards and away from the skirt of the dress).
A Malacca cane helps Glenda to walk and adds a note of dignity to the whole ensemble, and the outfit has the fashionable hint of the Edwardian influence.
Again, this outfit has been designed to lead the eye away from the afflicted member. As you can see in the sketch, nobody would know that Glenda was lame if they looked at her; and though she has to walk slowly and carefully, it doesn't show so much as when she wears a short afternoon dress and her legs are in full view.
For Armless and Legless Types.
Sometimes there are articles in the papers about girls without either legs or arms. Well, this is very unusual, and though I have lived for years in a home devoted to cripples of all types, I have only known of one case in which a torso alone was left, and that wasn't due to an accident, but to birth. This was pathetic, because the parents of he child were very wealthy, and did all in their power to have her fitted with artificial limbs; but it wasn't any good. Myrtle just couldn't use them, and because she was sensitive about her appearance, her parents thought it was better that she should live in a home. We used to take turns to push her around in a bath-chair (for lame people help each other and think nothing about it).
She had lovely long hair that was arranged in a coronet over her head. It was the colour of gold, and quite adorable. She wore a long robe with a pleated cape that hid her armless state, and to look at her you wouldn't notice (at first) that there was anything seriously wrong with her.
Myrtle couldn't walk or move about on her own, but she had a marvellous gift. She composed the loveliest music, and you must have heard her songs and suites played over the air, for she is quite well known in musical circles (although nobody knows that this popular composer is a mere trunk, and not a whole woman).
Myrtle holds her pen in her mouth when she writes her melodies, and we girls play them over on the piano while she sits in her chair and beats time with her head. When she is satisfied with her composition she sends it off to be published and stands us all a party when her cheque comes through.
It was this parties of Myrtle's that made me start designing dresses or the maimed, the limbless, and all girls who are not quite able and bodily perfect, and I think that my own experience (for I lost the use of my legs after an accident) has made me capable of designing clothes for all who are so afflicted.
I hope that any lame readers who want me to design clothes for them will write to me and let me know, and I promise to do my very best for them and take into account such things as crutches, leg-irons, and artificial limbs. I hope, too, that you like my article and my drawings.


London Life August 26, 1939 p. 58
One Little Shoe
Dear Sir, — I was very interested in the letter "Two on One" from your one— legged correspondents. I am on a single right leg myself, and you have already published a letter and photos from me in the past.
It is nice to find other girls who like their single legs as I do. To nestle down to a smart little pair of French crutches and swing along on one smart shoe is, to me, a constant delight; but if I am stared at, how much more must two girls with a left and right leg each! I only wish I had a girlfriend the same as I am.
I have heard people remark that they would rather be dead but have to live as I do, but I cannot see that, as life is sweet even with one leg off.
For walking I wear only a moderate 2 to 3 inches heel, and generally a lace shoe, but in the evenings I indulge in my love for a 4 inches to 5 inches heel, as my former photo shows.
I certainly think it must be easier to hop on a right leg than a left, and in any case it is entirely a matter of balance. I like both crutches for outdoor use, and for the house a single one, or I hop without one.
My nickname is "Birdie", because of my hopping about on one leg. I have many men friends, some of whom are definitely attracted by my condition.
I sometimes wear a pin leg, and even go out to parties in the evening wearing it with a long evening frock and a smart silver shoe, but best I like my crutches with an ordinary costume and my empty skirt blown idly about by the wind as I swing along on my little shoe.
Yours truly
Amputated Girl.


London Life September 9, 1939 pp. 22 — 23
A Fight Against Fate
Dear Sir, — For some time I have been a reader of "London Life", and have always read with the greatest interest the various letters from one-legged girl readers, and also the stories and articles by Wallace Stort.
I am 25 years of age, and fully realise that this complex question affects people in different ways, and as I can speak as to the reactions I have personally experienced, I will try and describe them to the best of my ability.
I was 18 years old when I was travelling abroad with my parents, and during our tour we were in a serious accident in which I lost both my parents, and I was injured to such an extent that it became necessary for me to have my right leg and left hand amputated. My leg is amputated above the knee, leaving me with about three quarters the length of my thigh, and my hand is amputated just above the wrist, compelling me to go through life on a single crutch under my right armpit!
I am glad to say that financially I am fairly well off, which is more than fortunate.
To make up for my leg and hand deficiencies, I hope I shall be forgiven if I say that I am very good looking. My hair is a most brilliant red, which I wear in an extra long pageboy roll reaching well down between my shoulders, with a flat fringe over my forehead and ears.
I favour a vivid scarlet lipstick on my full lips, also having my finger and toe-nails coloured and polished to match. Needless to say, it is impossible for me to do my fingernails myself, so my maid has to come to my aid. She accompanies me on my extensive travels and drives my car, and of course it is most essential for her to attend me when I am performing my toilet or dressing, as there are unfortunately lots of intimate things I am prevented from doing owing to being handicapped with my missing hand. For instance, I cannot pull an opera-length silk stocking on my single leg, or a short sock on my amputated limb, and fasten them on my suspenders, or lace up a single shoe. Also it is impossible for me to dry my back properly after a bath.
I am an extremely well-developed girl, and nature has blessed me with curves in the right places, with a small waist and very shapely ankle, and I find that to my men friends (of whom I have quite a number) my one shapely leg displayed below a short frock is far more attractive than my two legs ever were.
Naturally, I require only one glove, which I can pull on and off with my teeth; but when the weather is very cold I wear a tight-fitting woollen kind of sock on my shortened forearm, with an elastic band above my elbow, which I find a good prevention against coldness.
I can never get a hat to fit properly, owing to my inability to adjust it one-handed, so I just slip on a beret if the weather is windy. My shoes all have three inches heels, as I think this height is quite enough for a one— legged girl to keep her balance effortlessly.
I have quite a dozen crutches in various designs and colours, which stand in a rack specially made for them in the hall of my flat. All the shoulder rests are covered with soft chamois leather and padded with swans-down, yielding most comfortably under my armpit.
I have repeatedly noticed that when a one-legged girl uses a pair of armpit crutches, they are inclined to slant out to a most acute angle at the bottom, and I should imagine easily slip away if one is not too careful, but my single crutch has a decided natural tendency to slant well into my body.
I travel quite a lot, and about two years ago when I was on the Continent, I hopped one morning into the cocktail bar of my hotel, and you will understand my pleasure when I saw-a most charming and pretty girl perched up on a stool with only one shapely leg dangling down, and her crutch propped against the counter. When she saw me hopping in on my crutch, she slithered to the floor and, putting her crutch beneath her left armpit (her left leg was amputated above the knee) hopped across to meet me. We became firm friends, going out in my car with my maid-chauffeuse.
One night we went to a variety show, and one of the turns was an acrobatic trapeze act by two charming one-legged sisters. They hopped on to the stage each on a single crutch, dressed in flesh-coloured tights, each girl having a right and left leg amputated well above the knee. They gave a most daring display with such effortless, easy grace, as two normal girls would. It was really quite fascinating to see their two single legs swinging through the air. They received a tremendous ovation and, hopping back to the stage, this time retaining their crutch, they gave a simply marvellous display of one-legged tap-dancing. I have never before nor since seen anything like it. This made me realise more than ever that being one-legged is no deterrent to versatility. My one-legged friend effected an introduction, and after the show we four one-legged girls had supper together at our hotel.
I am continually being asked by different people what my feelings are toward my one-leggedness and towards my one hand. I can honestly say that I do not in the least mind being one-legged, in fact, to be perfectly sincere on this question, I think that I prefer my one-legged condition, because I consider that the amputation of my leg is more than amply compensated for in many ways. There is the extra attention I get when dining out or at a show, when a waiter or attendant takes my crutch from me as I sit down, and adjusting it comfortably under my right armpit when I leave. I think all this little things count a lot to a one-legged girl — at any rate they always do to me. I do, however, wish that I had my left hand, so that I could be more independent.
I had quite a number of proposals, but refused them, because some time ago I was introduced and, I will admit, fell rather badly for a charming young fellow about my age, who, like me, was one-legged. His immaculate one— legged condition had fascinated me from the time of our introduction. He owns a car, which he has adapted so that he can drive it with his one leg, and he is rather well off, too. I have been about with him now quite regularly for some time, and our friends have dubbed us "The one-legged inseparables".
One night, after dinner at my flat, he told me how completely fascinated he was with me. Then I, too, admitted that I had the same feeling towards him. We are now engaged and are getting married quite soon.
I do not know whether there are any other one-legged couples who have the same feelings of attachments towards each other. It would be most interesting to know.
I will now conclude by thanking you for your wonderful double number and the pleasures your paper has given me for some years.
Yours truly,
One-Handed Monopede.


London Life September 23, 1939 p. 24
Another One
Dear Sir, — I have just read the article "Two One-legged Girls", in which I found a great deal to interest me — for you see, I, too, have lost a leg.
My native country is America. When I was 18 (I am now 22) I was knocked down by a car in my home town in the States. They rushed me to hospital, and when I regained consciousness I was informed that my left leg had been amputated at the knee.
My parents were heartbroken, and it upset me, too. But now I have settled down to life as a one-legged girl, and I am quite happy and carefree. After a holiday (when I first came out of hospital) hopping about on two crutches, I soon graduated to one of the pole type mentioned by "Two One— legged Girls".
It distressed my father and mother to see me hopping about with my crutch, so they suggested that I should be measured for an artificial leg. This I did, but I could not become accustomed to wearing it, even though it afforded me good support.
One day I had an idea. Why not get a wooden leg? Both my parents insisted that a wooden leg was unsightly for a girl; but in the end they gave in, and I was measured.
I soon became used to my peg-leg, and I wear it in and out of doors. I can manoeuvre quite skilfully now, and hardly ever use a crutch. I can really recommend "Two One-legged Girls" to try it. My friends at first teased me and, much to my amusement, called me "Peggy", although my name is Helen.
I am a constant reader of "London Life", and I still read it although I am in India at the moment with my father on business. I thought it would please "Two One-legged Girls" to know that there is at least one more one— legged girl besides themselves who reads "London Life".
Hoping you will publish this for them to see, and looking forward to another article from them.
Yours truly,
Peggy Peg-Leg


London Life October 7, 1939 P. 19
A Monopede Seeks Advice
Dear Sir, — I am writing to say how I appreciated Miss Roper's article which was published in "London Life". Also I would like to congratulate her on her drawings, especially the one of "Marina". The only criticism I could find was the drawing of the crutch, which I should have liked to have seen resting under the arm.
I also possess only one leg, having lost my left leg five years ago. I am 20 years of age, medium built, blond, and possess a reasonably good figure and a shapely leg.
I am thinking of having a new rig-out made in black velvet, and with the details I am giving you, I am hoping you will make a sketch of myself and have it published in "London Life". The jacket will be cut to just rest on the hips in the style of an Eaton jacket. I am rather doubtful about the length of the skirt, but I would like a slit on either side, to allow more movement.
If you should make a sketch, perhaps you would show what length of skirt is neatest for a one-legged girl to wear. I myself prefer a short skirt, but I would like your opinion. I am also desirous of the skirt made tight. The only drawback here is the fact that I do not use an artificial leg, but prefer a slender black ebony crutch.
I am fond of high heels, and never wear a heel lower than 4 inches. I have just bought a black patent court shoe with a 4 3/4 inch heel. I have had a rubber tip added, so that now the heel is 5 1/4 inches high. It is a very comfortable shoe to wear, and the rubber heel makes a nice contrast with the rubber tip of my crutch. I intend wearing this shoe with my new velvet costume.
I, like many other one-legged readers, find being one-legged a constant thrill.
Again I would like to say how I appreciated Miss Roper's drawings, and hope she will oblige by sketching me from the data supplied in this letter.
Yours truly,
One Leg.


London Life October 2t, 1939 p. 21
"Joan Roper" Replies
Dear "Miss One Leg", — I noticed your letter to the Editor asking me to comment on your new outfit. I am afraid that a velvet jacket "to the hips" will twist and "ruck up" owing to the use of your crutch. I suggest that it finishes just above the hip-bone which is just long enough for fashion, isn't it? Nor do I agree that your velvet skirt should be "made tight". A tight skirt always draws attention to the missing limb and "rucks up" and creases in the most alarming fashion, when you sit down, completely destroying the smart effect; for velvet, above all other fabrics will not stand rough treatment.
Mind you, I agree with your choice of material — it is most flattering — and I know velvet is a great favourite with the male s*ex. Why not try a crushed mulberry shade?
I suggest that you have of the latest "swing" skirts instead of a tight slit skirt. The fullness of a swing skirt stops it from creasing or rucking up. After all a narrow slit skirt for a one-legged girl is not exactly a happy choice, is it? Even girls with the full complement of legs look beastly in them unless their legs are adorably streamlined and perfect, and we lame girls must strive to conceal our deficiencies, mustn't we? Moreover, black patent court shoes do not go well with velvet suits as velvet has a "matt" finish, and patent is ultra shiny, so the harmony of the costume is at once destroyed. I think that a black suede court shoe (which you can get with as high a heel as you like) will look better with velvet.
Patent shoes should only be worn with tailor made costumes, shiny surfaced fabrics, or smart afternoon frocks not made in velvet.
Suede, on the other hand will go with almost anything, and if you want a very flattering shoe for your one whole leg, why not visiting the Regent Shoe Stores? You will find their address on another page of this issue. Their assistant is most understanding about your personal problems, and will make your problem his and will send you out with the most flattering and suitable shoe for your needs. I know this, because several of my friends go there, and wouldn't patronise another shop.
I like your idea of the "slim ebony crutch", and when I next write an illustrated article I will include a sketch of your velvet outfit in it for your guidance. As for "Marina's" crutch not being under her arm in my last sketch, that was just "artistic license" so that the full effect of the fashion drawing could be obtained.
Thank you for all the nice things you have said about my article and sketches. Believe me I am most grateful.
Yours truly,
Joan Roper.


London Life November 7, 1938 p. 24
A Letter From An Admirer
Dear Miss Roper, — I was much interested in your article "Dress For The Maimed", in a recent issue of "London Life". I am wondering if you will be good enough to give me your advice on one or two points. It will be necessary for me to give you some details regarding myself.
I am a crippled girl of 22 years, fair, and am considered very good looking — perhaps some compensation for being lamed for life.
I am 5 foot 9 inches in height, and of slight build. I was involved in a serious motor accident some time ago, in which my right leg and foot were badly damaged. As a result the bones of my leg and those of my foot refused to knit properly and I am left with my leg 10 inches short and a perfectly stiff knee. My foot is also quite stiff pointing downward, the instep being nearly in a strait line with the leg.
I am, of course, unable to use my leg at all, and it hangs clear of the ground gently swaying as I move about on a pair of smart ebony crutches. You will, of course, realise that my right shoe always looks new, as the foot never touches the ground, and I am unable to walk without my crutches.
I always wear court shoes, either in brown or black patent leather, and I have found that I can wear quite comfortably, 3 3/4 inch heels, which are lower than I used to wear before I became a cripple.
I wear fairly short skirts, usually 14 inches or 15 inches above the ground, as I am rather proud of my shapely left limb, and even my crippled limb has lost none of its charm with the foot hanging limp and useless.
I have told you all this because I want you to know at the start that I am not one of those who think it necessary to hide one's attractions or be ashamed of one's afflictions.
Indeed I get a thrill at the feel of my crutches tucked snugly under my armpits and that I am to all intents and purposes one-legged — at least to the extent of being so entirely dependent on my crutches as my constant companions as means of progression.
I have several men friends who appear to be rather attracted by my lameness, and so I see no reason why I should not make the most of my natural attractions, and if my crippled state brings me their sympathy, help and kindness, I am quite prepared to dress (with reason) to please.
I am afraid I have written you rather a long account of myself, but I thought perhaps it would be best to do so before asking your advice as to whether (if you can at all picture me) it would be best to wear a tightish skirt for a coat and skirt ensemble of rather a fuller one.
I favour a tight one, but there would have to be enough play to allow for the slight sway of my short leg as I move.
Then as to evening frocks — naturally I could not wear these the usual length, as I think they would get in the way both of my crutches and my right foot, but at the same time I do not want them as short as my walking skirts.
Winter coats, too, are something of a problem, but no doubt you can give me some suggestions.
Lastly, what do you think is the highest heel I can wear with any reasonable degree of safety over and above the 3 3/4 inches. I am accustomed to?
I hope you do not mind my writing to you and that this letter has not bored you too much.
I would like to finish by saying that I think your sketch of a one-legged girl was excellent, but I think it would have been improved had she been drawn with her crutch (or crutches) under her arms.
Yours truly,
(Miss) A.J.


London Life November 25, 1939 p. 75
A Brave Girl Writes
Dear Sir, — Please forgive me if my writing is a bit shaky, but I am confined to bed, and it is not too easy to write on the shaking bedclothes.
Last week some friends brought me some old books to read, and among them was the copy of "London Life" in which the article on "Dress for the Maimed" was printed. This particularly interested me as very shortly the question is going to be a very definite one for me.
About three month ago I was in a motor smash in which a heavy lorry was involved with two cars, in one of which I was sitting. My right leg was crushed up to the knee, and my left to within six inches of the knee. As a result, my legs had to be amputated — my right at the hip, and my left three inches above the ankle.
I wonder what sort of a dress you would recommend me to wear to cover the crutches that I shall have to use.
I am 5 feet 10 inches in height and 18 years old. It is this matter of age that worries me so much, as it is hardly the usual thing for an 18 year old girl to have both her legs cut off.
Also, I have a friend who is about the same height and the same age, who has lost her right arm. Is there any dress that she could wear that would take peoples eyes from her empty sleeve?
I think some sort of cape, preferably mackintosh, would suit us both, so that we should need not too many sets of clothing for different kinds of weather.
Hoping that this meets with a speedy reply,
Yours truly,
Jean.


London Life November 25, 1939 pp. 9 — 10
Dress For The Maimed
by Joan Roper
I wonder whether my readers will guess, from this article, that I am typing it on a borrowed machine, sitting uncomfortably up in bed (with my left leg in a "cradle"), after an operation. If they do, I would like them to excuse any faults that are in this article, for not only have I had a lot of trouble to write at all, but I haven't been able to do my usual sketches; and for the one that appears with this I must thank a friend who volunteered to help me out.
I thank all the readers who have written to me for advice on the topic of dress for the maimed. Most of the letters I handed to the Editor, after perusal, for printing in the correspondence Columns, so all who wrote to me will know that in this article I am replying to them.
I have had many brave and interesting letters from lame girls, monopedes, and others (all have been published), and I want to reply first of all to the girl who asked me what she should wear to conceal her crutches most successfully.
For Winter outdoor wear I suggest that she chooses a long cape, cut full round the hem, and fitting close up to the neck. The fullness of this cape folds itself around the crutches, keeping her warm and trim, and there are arm slits in the front for allowing the hands full play when the crutches are not being used. I suggest that this cape should be made in a velour cloth. Grey would be charming, especially when worn with a little pillbox hat made from grey Astrakhan: But every girl could choose material and colour to please herself, couldn't she? And if grey is chosen, remember that it has the effect of adding a pallor to the complexion. So, little lame friend, be lavish with your rouge and lipstick, and make up your face really well, and you will find that this all covering outfit becomes you and brings out your best points, disguising as far as possible, our lameness or leglessness.
I have a great interest in this topic myself, for if this last operation of mine is not successful, despite all, I may have to have one of my own legs amputated just above the knee; but if that sad happening does occur, at least I shall know that to lose a limb is not the terrible thing that normal two-legged people suppose. Nature always provides compensations, doesn't she?
No tight skirts.
For an afternoon ensemble for a lame, monopedic, or crippled girl, I suggest the following suit, which can be worn under the cape I have just described. Have an afternoon frock made in fine woollen fabric, cut to fit the figure to the waist, until it flares into a circular skirt, with high neck and long sleeves. Then buy a big pointed collar — something like the one Cardinal Richelieu wears in the paintings, with enormous cuffs to match. Have these spotlessly white at all times, and starched like a board, and add them to the classically cut plain frock. The collars and cuffs dramatise the neckline and the wrists where the crutches are grasped, and draw attention away from the maimed or non-existent legs in the cleverest manner possible. Please, dear fellow maimed-ones, don't wear a tight skirt! That absolutely rivets attention on our legs — and that is the last thing we want isn't it?
Besides that, a tight skirt works upwards of slip and petticoat in the most unobliging fashion, and then lameness is pitied; and if there is one thing no lame girl can bear for a moment, is pity! After all, if lameness is our lot in life, let us make a chic lameness! That means that more than usual attention should be given to make-up, hair styles, sheer stockings (for the good leg, in the case of monopedes, and absolute cleanliness of cloths. Nothing ill looks better than a grubby touch of so-called white on a dress — nothing is more attractive than spotless, board-stiff starched accessories. It breathes a note of exquisite daintiness, and emphasises that though Fate may have robbed us of, or marred a limb, our flag of pride is still flying in the breeze.
For a smart suit.
Costume coats and skirts are still in high favour with all lame girls, and the extra protection of the coat eases the pressure of the crutches under the armpits, so perhaps this is the reason. But lame girls must bear one important thing in mind when ordering a costume: She must have her skirt made with the highest possible waist.
Lameness invariably shortens the figure by about 3 inches, whether you are a monopede or a cripple. To combat this, you must make your clothes give you the illusion of having extra length. A high-waisted skirt does this admirably, and so does a coat that ends just above the hip-line. (The bolero style, as it is called.) With this the dainty crippled girl can wear a smart blouse. (Those semitransparent ones are high fashion notes for a dark suit, and allow you to go gay with the ribbons and lace of the showy camisole that is glimpsed through the diaphanous blouse. Fortunately most lame girls have nicely shaped bosoms — and there's a reason for that.)
Always, when giving your tailor instructions, insist that he adds extra padding and a double thickness of material under the armpits where the crutches rub. I wasted dozens of suits before I found that one had to. "Dress to crutches," so to speak. Then go as gay as you like with silk stockings and high heels. Heels can be as high as compatible with ease in walking. Any heel that wobbles or turns under is too high for the wearer.
Another point that I find cropping up in readers' letters is this: Many of you have written to me saying, "I find that my friends find my lameness an added attraction."
Oh, my dears! How wrong you are! Aren't you confusing sympathy and chivalry with admiration? After all, we lame girls come in for a lot more consideration than our normal sisters, and we can also command admiration for chic clothes and make-up; but that lameness in itself can be an attraction, I can't understand.
Mind you, I am not saying that lameness or leglessness will prevent a girl from having her share of admiration. It will not. But it will not get you any more. So avoid like the plague the advise of those well-meaning, kind correspondents who take pains pointing out that monopedes and others are more attractive, for these letters may make you fall into the trap of attracting the eyes to your lame state instead of lifting the eye from it by clever dressing.
To conceal deficiencies is the whole art of dress, and the reason for inauguration of these articles; and "London Life" is the first paper to take into consideration the fashion needs of thousands of maimed girls — which, I think, shows the short-sightedness among editors in general, doesn't it?
Things to avoid.
Lame, one-legged or maimed girls should avoid the following:
* Tight skirts. (They don't allow movement.)
* Too short skirts. (They show up the lameness.)
* Three-quarter length coats. (They cut the height.)
* Three-quarter length sleeves. (For the same reason.)
* V necks. (The use of crutches manoeuvres them askew.)
* Too dark or muddy colours. (Makes us look uninteresting.)
* Too plain hair styles. (Let us have all eyes on our heads, not on our feet!)
These general rules will help any lame girl to make the best of herself all the times.



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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 25642Unread post Bazil
18 Feb 2018, 12:59

London Life November 25, 1939 p. 88
Prefers One
Dear Sir, — I commenced reading "London Life" shortly after I became one— legged, and I have been a regular reader ever since. I trust you can find space in your columns to publish this letter, which may prove a change for my one-legged colleagues from the rubber-mac and long-hair correspondence which has been predominating for some time.
I am 25 years of age, and lost my leg when I was 21, up to which time I had been a dancing instructress — although there was really no necessity for me to do this, as my parents had left me a very comfortable income, quite adequate to make me independent.
I was driving home one foggy night, after giving a very charming one-legged girl a few lessons in simple dancing, and as she was such a sweet girl, I drove her home: Soon after I had dropped her, I had a crash and remembered nothing more until I came to in a nursing home, and was later told that my left leg had been amputated above the knee. This was a bitter pill, which I felt I should never swallow, as I realised that it meant the end of all my sports and dancing, of which I was so passionately fond.
I am afraid I took my one-legged condition rather bitterly, especially when, after a week or two, I got out of bed and had to hop on my one leg to a wheeled chair in which I used to propel myself about, and realised my helplessness as I looked at my half empty dress draping loosely.
After about a week of getting about in my chair, I was measured for a pair of crutches, and when these arrived I immediately started using them. After a few days' practice and a few falls, I commenced hopping about the grounds of the nursing home; and, strange to say, when I got used to the friendly contact of the padded shoulder rests beneath my armpits, I began to look upon my one-legged condition from a different angle.
I returned home to my flat, and quickly started, under the supervision of my maid, to hop about on a single crutch, so as to have one hand free. This I soon mastered, and in a few weeks I permanently discarded one crutch and ventured out of doors all alone and hopped on and off several buses with a single crutch under my left armpit, as of course my driving days were over.
One day my late one-legged pupil came to see me, as I had written and told her that I was like herself, one-legged — the difference between us being the loss of opposite legs. She brought me a whole number of back issues of "London Life", and as I read them I soon began to realise that there was plenty of kick to be got out of life although I was one-legged. This was the commencement of the real turning point of my one-legged career.
I ordered several frocks and dresses, having them made so as to set off my one-legged figure to the fullest extent.
I am accounted a very good-looking girl by my friends, being one of those rare platinum blonds. My hair, which is so sleek and smooth, I wear in a very long sort of pageboy roll reaching down to several inches below my shoulders. I have not had my eyebrows plucked, as they are not too thick and are quite nicely arched.
I, however, use mascara and shading under my eyes. Instead of rouge, I favour a faint purple collaring on my cheeks, with a fairly generous supply of vivid purple lipstick on my lips, which completes a rather uncommon make-up, but one which is quite suitable to my extreme fairness.
My finger and toe-nails are coloured to match my lips. Although I am passionately fond of nice clothes, I have no desire for jewellery. The only thing I wear is a flat gold expanding 2 inch wide circlet which I bought in Paris after seeing one on a very chic Parisian one-legged girl, whom I got to know rather intimately. She told me that these circlets are very much in favour with well-to-do one-legged French women, and I have since discovered that this is quite a distinctive fashion among them.
During the first winter after losing my leg I was advised by my one-legged old pupil to wear trousers, as a protection against the cold to my amputated limb; but I did not quite like the idea of being measured with only one leg. However, I eventually got over my feelings in this respect, and went to a well-known firm of tailors and ordered several pairs. I need not have had any qualms about being one-legged, because the girl who attended to me told me quite casually, as she was measuring me, that her firm had several one-legged lady customers, to whom she attended.
There is no doubt that trousers are very comfortable, and I wear them quite a lot when in the country, where I am now, and am afraid that I shall be for a long time yet. Admittedly they make my one-legged appearance more obvious than a dress does, but I do no mind that, because it is not my fault that I am one-legged; and besides, what is the good of being different to other girls if you do not take advantage of it?
I am sure there is something about being one-legged, if a girl is smartly dressed, which appeals to our menfolk, because I have been told times out of number how attractive my one-legged appearance is as I hop gracefully about upon my single crutch, and, to use rather an odious expression, I can "get off" at any time, if I so desired.
The four years I have been one-legged seem to have passed very quickly, and I have almost forgotten when my one and only leg had a companion; but of one thing I am certain — and that is, I much prefer its singleness, with my single crutch taking the place of my missing leg.
It may seem incredible to some of your readers how I have changed my attitude toward my one-leggedness, but I can only say that the primary cause was the letters which I read in your paper. Which gave me the first inspiration to adapt myself to me one-legged condition, and time has done the rest.
In conclusion, I should like to thank most heartily dear old "London Life" and to wish the best of luck to all readers who, like myself, have to hop through life on one leg, and to assure them that personally, I would not have two legs again, being too much enamoured of my one-legged deficiency, which is amply compensated for by the sensations I derive in being able to overcome various difficulties caused by the amputation of my left leg, which resulted in making me a one-legged girl.
Yours truly,
One Leg Preferred.


London Life November 25, 1939 p. 97
Swing Skirt Preferred
Dear Sir, — I was interested in Miss Joan Roper's reply to "Miss One Leg", and from my own experience agree with her that a swing shirt is much to be preferred to a tight slit one. With the latter the lack of limb is apt to be too much in evidence, especially when sitting down.
Personally I do not like to see too short a skirt for a one-legged girl, nor a really high heel for out-of-door wear. In the house, however, I often wear my single shoe with a five inch heel, but for walking purposes I prefer a smart lace shoe with an ordinary heel.
Most amputees, if they are fairly young and active, are accustomed to hopping without crutches, the whole secret being correct balance and it is easy for me to hop on my single leg as it is to ride a cycle.
Many of your correspondence have confessed to getting a thrill from their condition and I have often experienced it myself as I have gone out smartly dressed and with a slender pair of crutches under my arms. One's single little shoe does attract a good deal of attention, which is what every woman likes. I prefer two crutches put off doors, and a single one in the house.
Stairs are a problem — easy to ascend, but coming down, one has the feeling of falling forwards, and I generally manage with one crutch and the banister.
At home I sometimes wear slacks, with the left leg pinned up, and have even gone out in them when in a strange town. Needless to say, they attracted many curious stares and remarks, which pleased my boyfriend immensely. Often he would loiter behind so as to hear people's remarks about my one leg as I swing along ahead on my slender crutches.
Yours truly,
Happy Monopede.


London Life December 9, 1939 p. 23
A Pleasant Surprise
Dear Sir, — Whilst on my honeymoon two months ago, I bought a copy of "London Life" at a railway bookstall and, to my pleasant surprise, read a very charming letter from a one-legged girl who signed herself "One-handed monopede". I thoroughly enjoyed reading this letter as I also am one— legged; but I had never heard of a one-legged girl described as a monopede before.
I am 24 years of age, and my husband is four years older. He simply spoils me in every way, being so kind and generous to me.
When I was twenty I developed a kind of poisoning in my right foot, which spread up my leg, and it became necessary for me to have my leg amputated. The doctor informed my parents that there was no time for delay, and I was rushed off to a nursing home, and the same afternoon my right leg was amputated above the knee.
When I sufficiently recovered, I realised that my sports activities were finished. However, I was soon hopping about on my one leg, with the aid of a single slender crutch, and trying hard to forget the days when my left leg shared its attractiveness with another.
I am a little over the average height, with jet black hair, which I wear in a bun on the nape of my neck. I am rather fond of make-up, and use mascara and shading. I am more than generous with lipstick, giving a good coating of vivid scarlet to my lips; but I do not use rouge, preferring the natural pallor of my cheeks, which is intensified by my heavily carmined lips.
My husband is in a large way of business, and makes me more than an adequate dress allowance, and I do full justice to it; but he doesn't mind because he tells me that he loves me to show off pretty generously my one and only leg to its fullest advantage, and so to please him and, incidentally, myself, I do so, by having my frocks made short.
I have several crutches but prefer one which my hubby had made as a present for me when we were engaged, being of lovely polished ebony, with real silver fittings. Two others I have bought since I have been married, for evening use, are scarlet and bright green respectively.
I know that this question of crutches is a difficult proposition to we one— legged girls, but I maintain that a single crutch is infinitely more advantageous to a one-legged girl than a pair, and in support of this I give my personal reasons.
Firstly, you have one hand entirely free. Secondly, it is entirely impossible for the crutch to slant out at an awkward angle, and the rubber tip is only a couple of inches from my single foot as it touches the ground. Thirdly, it is far easier to remove from under my arm when I am shopping and desire to sit down. Fourthly, the discomfort that I suffer at times through continuously having a crutch under my right armpit as it presses against the sensitive soft flesh is only under one armpit, whereas it would be under two if I used a pair of crutches of the armpit type.
I have never worn trousers or shorts like some of your one-legged girl readers, preferring to display my one-legged charms in a single stocking of perfect fit.
One day I asked my hubby if he would not prefer me to have two legs instead of just one, and I shall never forget as he looked at me as he said: "I married you because I love you, and also because you are one-legged; and if I tell you the honest truth, I think it is your one-leggedness which predominates..."
I gently squeezed his arm as I said: "I am glad you do not regret having a one-legged wife."
He will not let me drive a car, as he says it is too much strain for my one leg. Of course we are unable to use it much now. I have had a luminous disc fitted close to the rubber tip at the bottom of my crutch, which shows up in the blackout, and this helps to prevent anyone accidentally kicking it. Now is the only time I have really missed my leg, but I am gradually getting accustomed to taking extra precaution against hurting myself in these enforced dark times.
I have taken up voluntary work in an office, and in the evenings I attend sewing classes twice a week. So I am trying to be of some use, in spite of my disability.
I hope that this letter is not too long, and that it is suitable for publication in "London Life", and trust that it will interest other readers who are like myself and understand what it means to realise that for the rest of your life you are destined to hop on just one leg, knowing perfectly well that all the regrets in the world will not restore your lost shapely limb again.
with every best wish to "London Life".
Yours truly,
One-Legged Newly Wed.


London Life December 30, 1939 p. 67
Crutches In The Black-Out
Dear Sir, — Anyone seeing me sitting down would think I am a normal girl, as two well-shaped legs are to be seen. However, when I rise, pick up a couple of black crutches and tuck them under my armpits, people look with surprise to see that I am a cripple in some respect worse off than were I one-legged, for I cannot even hop on my one good leg, as the other — the right one — is permanently locked at right angle to the thigh, due to a bone and muscle affection which assailed me three years ago, close on my twenty-first birthday.
Frankly, I would rather be minus my leg than be hampered by one which is in the way and is no good to me.
As a matter of fact my doctors are trying once more to straighten the limb and if they fail (which they expect to and which I am quite sure they will) they will amputate the leg above the knee.
It was, however, hardly this that I sat down to write about. My main reason is to give the benefit of my experience to your one-legged readers, with whom I naturally take a keen interest, as I expect to be one very soon.
The black-out is the reason for my writing, and I am one of the many girls using crutches who have to attend business daily. I am a typist, and my hours preclude me from leaving the office in the winter before it is dark, and therein lies the danger.
The following experience recently made me think out some kind of a remedy which would help me and one-legged girls during the black-out.
I was hopping along on my crutches, and had been careful to wear light— coloured stockings. My shoes were brown court ones with my normal height of heel — 3 3/4 inches — and I was using a pair of light-make black crutches.
My right leg, being bent, was projecting behind me, when someone crossed quickly in the rear, caught my leg and gave me a violent twist. Taken by surprise, I was turned partly round, my crutches slipped, and I fell.
Someone picked me up, placed my crutches under my arm, and helped me to a nearby shop, where, after a rest, I was driven home to nurse a badly sprained left ankle.
My enforced lying at home gave me time to think out a remedy, which I find excellent. I obtained some luminous paint and painted my crutches with this — except, of course, the armrests and grips; and for my crippled leg I made a kind of galosh of cloth, treated with the paint. This latter is easily slipped over the shoe, covers the heel, and it is the work of only a moment to put it on when going out in the dark and to take it off on reaching home.
The only disadvantage is that one does not care for one's crutches to be a colour one would not choose; but this is really a minor matter when one is gaining the safety desired, and I assure your readers that crutches so treated definitely show up in the dark and give one a feeling of safety hitherto quite impossible; and in my particular case my right foot, and very definitely my high heel, is bound to be seen as it protrudes from my skirt.
If any of our readers try my suggestion, it will be very nice if they will give their experiences both before and after its adoption.
Yours truly,
High-Heeled Cripple.


London Life December 30, 1939 pp. 56 — 57
Four Little Amps
Dear Sir, — I notice that you will welcome more letters from readers; and as the long-hair, mac and wrestling fraternity have had good innings lately, I thought you might like a few reminiscences from a one-legged reader of "London Life".
To start at the beginning, I have been minus a left leg since I was six years old, and now hardly remember in my twenty-fourth year, what it would be like having both limbs again.
My parents were poor and kind friends got me in a Crippled Girl's Home outside London. I arrived there on my crutches, and found there about twenty other girls with various deformities, and amongst them three other girls with single legs, who were nicknamed "The Amps" — short, I suppose, for amputation. There were also two one-armed girls and one with only a single leg and arm; but I was the only one minus a left leg.
We soon became great friends and used to be highly amused at the startled glances of strangers to see four girls romping about with only four legs between them.
Of course we had to work in various ways, making artificial flowers, etc, to help the Home and occasionally had stalls at shows and exhibitions, where some of us were sent to sell the goods; and I always remember that we one-legged or one-armed girls could do best at this, because I suppose people pitied us as we cleverly hopped about, and probably bought for that reason.
My particular pal was Elsie, who was older than myself, and I always remember her taking my crutches away to tease me, and leaving to hop or crawl across the big lawn at the back of the Home. Every time I fell down, the others clapped and roared with laughter and called, "Go it, Amp!"
I often wished I had some snaps of us girls, when we were romping together.
Well, when I was 17 I left the home, as my mother had taken a small draper's shop in the suburbs and could employ me for alterations and sometimes to serve in the shop.
I was now able to dress smartly and wear pretty frocks and hats; and one of my first purchases was a lovely slender pair of French crutches in polished black, and a smart patent court shoe for my one remaining foot. I was, I think, quite good looking when dressed and made up a bit; and with my one crutch I began to take quite an interest in being one-legged because I noticed that certain boys were attracted to me by this, and used to try to get to know me.
About this time my mother persuaded me to be measured for a pin leg; and although I often wore it, I never liked it. Still, I could walk quite well with it, and rather enjoyed people's stares as I tapped along on my one shoe and wooden leg.
My friend Elsie had now left the Home and got a job as typist at an insurance office not far from us, so we renewed our acquaintance and eventually she left her digs and came to live with us, sharing my bedroom.
I don't think we thought ourselves as cripples, and were certainly not shy of our maimed condition. Of course two well-dressed girls together with a single leg each, attracted a lot of attention, but our most daring exhibition was when we both came out in smart slacks with our empty legs pinned up.
"What price hoppers?" Elsie laughed. "Now we'll see some fun," as we entered a smart restaurant one evening and sat down at a table our crutches resting against a chair.
Elsie was in one of her don't care moods: She suddenly rose and, crutchless, hopped down the room to the bar at the end and ordered a drink. This was a direct challenge, so I hopped down after her, and we balanced ourselves against the counter. People actually stood up to see us, and nearly clapped our little exhibition whilst others wanted to stand us drinks or get us to sit at their tables.
"Did you ever see such excitement over a couple of amputations?" whispered Elsie. "Drink up, and let's hop back before there's a riot."
We enjoyed that evening immensely, and when we went home Elsie said: "Oh, well, it's not so bad being one-legged after all. Had we been like other girls, no one would have looked at us."
Soon afterwards I persuaded Elsie to get a pin leg, like mine, and dressed in smart costumes and furs, we went for a walk in the park together with our wooden legs tapping side by side.
It was about this time that we met two very nice boys who fell for us. Nothing could have been kinder than they were. They would rush about, and take our crutches, and admire our skill with them, and now life began to be really worth living.
Well, this letter is already too long so I must bring it to a close with a promise to resume another day, if I have the Editor's consent.
Yours truly,
Two Happy Amputees.


London Life December 30, 1939 pp. 60 — 61
A Monopede Tells Her Story
Dear Sir, — I cannot say how sorry I am to have to confess that until last week I had not read your wonderful paper. I happened to be making several purchases at a bookstall, when I saw its lovely cover, and so I bought it, but little thinking what interest it would have for me.
I am a French girl, born in Paris twenty-five years ago, and had my right leg amputated above the knee when I was 17. I came to this country when I was 18, to finish my education, and when I was twenty I commenced to study art, both in England and in my own country.
When I commenced my studies I doffed my feminine garb, and donned the masculine garb, which is so popular in the Latin Quarter in Paris — velvet corduroy trousers with, of course, the right leg cut short, leaving three— quarters of an empty trouser leg dangling around my crutch. I also wore the artistic blouse of the student, and an Apache cap stuck rakishly on my head.
My crutch is of the slender pole type, which I can easily manipulate between my thumb and forefingers. Being a Parisian, I am naturally fond of make-up; and as a contrast to my jet black hair I am very generous with the very brightest and most brilliant rouge I can obtain, also covering my lips with a good thick layer of crimson lipstick. My finger and toe-nails I also colour to harmonise.
I am not very tall and, like the majority of my countrywomen, I am rather vivacious in appearance.
Through being one-legged and not able to get about as quickly as I could with two legs, I have developed a rather pronounced plumpness; but I do not mind this.
I am, however, compelled, owing to my extremely full bust, to have the shoulder rest of my crutch — which, by the way, is gray in colour and beautifully polished — well padded, as the flesh is rather sensitive under my armpit through my being compelled to continuously having a crutch there; not having attempted to hop without the support of my trusty crutch, which is, to me, absolutely indispensable.
My only grievance against my one-leggedness is this plumpness under my armpits, which is giving me a little discomfort. I should be extremely graceful for any hints as to a remedy for this from any other one-legged girl reader. I do hope this appeal from a one-legged girl will be answered through your columns.
Until a few months ago I used to travel alternatively for three monthly periods between here and my country during my studies; and naturally with my one leg and crutch, I became more or less a well-known and familiar one— legged figure to the officials; but of course it is impossible for me to do this now, so I am staying in your lovely countryside with an old school chum, as I am without parents and relatives.
I was very interested in the letter from "One Leg Preferred", especially her remarks about her golden circlet. I am able to substantiate what she said about these ornaments being very popular with one-legged French women, as I am personally acquainted with quite a number of my own countrywomen, who, like myself are one-legged, and the majority of them wear one — of course myself included. They are known as "la circlette de moignon". Mine is platinum, 1 inch wide, with my initials engraved on it, and the date my leg was amputated. I have been one-legged over eight years.
I was also very pleased to see the sketch and article by Miss Joan Roper. Now that I have to give up my travels and studies, I was contemplating what type of dress I could adopt and she has come to the rescue of my one-legged deficiency. I do hope that it will not be necessary for her to have her leg amputated; but if Fate decrees that, like myself, she is to become one— legged, I hope that she will write and give us her own experiences.
I have ordered "London Life" to be delivered to me each week, and I shall look with great trepidation to see if Miss Roper has to lose her leg. If this should happen, I can assure her from my own experiences that there is nothing very terribly serious in having only one leg. On the contrary I have found that my amputated limb has something indescribably fascinating about it which I cannot put into words. It is, however, a feeling of not being able to do certain things with only one leg, which never fails to give me a delightful sensation of helplessness as I endeavour to use my amputated limb before realisation tells me of its futility. Being one— legged always seems to pave the way to making friends.
The other week I had a long bus journey of several hours, and after we had gone some distance, a very charming young fellow who was sharing my seat, said, as he pointed to my shortened trouser leg: "I am so sorry that you are one-legged."
I smiled as I said that he needs not really be sorry for me, because I was not in the least regretful at having only one limb.
This broke the ice and we chatted and smoked together until our journey's end. This is only one instance where my one leg has made a friend.
If you would care I could write and give you quite a lot of incidents I have experienced since I became one-legged, which I am sure would interest all your one-legged girl readers, as they are true, though somewhat remarkable, episodes which have happened to me amongst night life in night clubs at which I was well known as a one-legged regular habituй during my art studies.
I happen to be a member of a very select club whose membership is very limited as it is composed solely of one-legged women like myself. We have two guest nights a year when we do not confine ourselves to absolute one— leggedness, and we have had some wonderful unique times — and of course we shall again, when things become normal once more.
In wishing your paper the very best success, I will conclude by also offering my deepest sympathy to Miss Roper in her present crippledness; and if she should become a one-legged girl, I give her the motto of our club, which is: "Une jambe et bйquille" which in English means: "One leg and crutch".
Yours truly,
One-Legged Parisian.


1940

London Life January 6, 1940 p. 23
Cannot Agree
Dear Sir, — Although I must admit I am a reader of "London Life" of only three weeks standing, I have been kicking myself for not having bought my first copy years ago.
I think we should be very grateful to "One-legged Newly-wed" for her interesting letter. But I am afraid I cannot agree with her choice of crutches. She advocates — as many others do — a single crutch of the underarm type, and gives four advantages of it, but does not mention any of the disadvantages.
Firstly, your are bound to spoil your clothes, both at the hip and under the arm. A fur coat would be impossible. Secondly you are inclined to walk with one shoulder higher than the other, with increased strain on the spine. And thirdly, the underarm type is awkward by virtue of its length. It has to be removed from under the arm whenever you want to stoop. If you go to a cinema or get into a car, there is this crutch, over 5 feet in length, to be put somewhere.
I am sure that your one-legged girl readers would never go back to an under-arm crutch once they had got used to the short crutch, of this description. Imagine your present crutches cut off 12 inches above the handle, with a leather ring at the top, through which you put your arms. This ring must not be higher than 3 inches below the elbow. They are very light and will not get in the way. Two crutches are required; but what a difference!
Miss Roper maintains that monopedes are not attractive in themselves, but only arouse greater courtesy and chivalry. I can't agree. A one-legged girl, I think, is a very charming person, and can look particularly attractive, providing, she is dressed correctly. She should, too, enter into as much sport as possible, for surely a girl that won't, only makes everything so much more difficult for her friends. Her self-consciousness adds to the embarrassment of those around her.
I should very much like to hear, through your columns, from anybody who thinks they might improve their crutches. I have a number of good ideas that I should be happy to suggest.
This is my first letter to "London Life", and I hope the editor will print it.
Wishing "London Life" the best of everything.
Yours truly,
La Jambe De Bois.


London Life January 27, 1940 pp. 27, 28, 29, 30, 47
Amazing Account Of A Limbless Beauty Show
by Wallace Stort
(See stor-files!...)


London Life January 27, 1992 (1940?) p. 68
The Delay Was Unavoidable
Dear Miss Roper, — I recently wrote you in regard to dresses suitable for my lame condition. You will remember that my right leg is 10 inches short with a stiff knee and stiff foot (on the same leg) pointing to the ground.
The Editor kindly said that you would answer my letter in a later issue, and after my description I rather hoped you would be able to make a sketch incorporating my lameness with one of your suggestions.
However, owing to your inability to sketch at the time, a drawing was done by someone else, and I feel that hardly meets my case.
If your leg has been saved (which I trust, for your sake, it has), I wonder if you would make a drawing as I have suggested.
If you have had to undergo an amputation, then may I hope that you will very soon recover and take comfort from the letters in "London Life" which show that so many crippled girls are inordinately happy even though they may be minus one of their legs.
Yours truly,
Miss Jackson.


London Life January 27, 1940 pp. 5 — 6
A Modern Romance
by Joan Roper
First of all I want to thank all those readers who wrote to me and sympathised with me in my enforced lay-up when it was feared that I might have to lose my leg. That did not happen, fortunately, and now I am about again.
I do not think that any of you can realise what pleasure it is to me to write about fashions and fads that interest the maimed. "London Life" was the first paper to cater for lamed and monopedic girls with a special fashion article; and it seems strange, to say the least of it, that no editor ever thought of it before, since one-eighth of the total population of Great Britain is lame!
Does that come as a shock to you? It does to many. People get so used to seeing lame people about, that very little is thought of it; but to me, brought up among the maimed, one-eighth of the population seems to be a low estimate.
The crying need for special talks and articles on fashions for lame and one-legged girls has long been felt, and I cannot help but feel that I am doing my bit as a pioneer by writing these occasional articles.
I want now to reproduce a letter I received from a girl who is one-legged and who recently married. She has put into her own words all that a girl feels on this auspicious occasion, and the details she has given about the manipulation of her crutch when going up the aisle are of great importance to all of us who have been robbed by birth or mischance of two good legs.
Preparing for the wedding.
Dear Joan, — The day has been fixed, and I am so excited that this morning I jumped out of bed and found myself hopping about the room without the aid of my crutches, which is a triumph of mind over matter, if you like!
When the doctor told me after my operation I ought to get used to hopping, I thought I would never manage it, and for the first six months at least I was utterly reliant on my crutch.
Yesterday I found that hopping is as safe a method of progression as that crawling we used to do at the clinic. I didn't lose my balance once. Is that a record?
You have asked me to tell you what I am wearing on the great day when I become Mrs. Edwin T. — Well, Joan, I am not having a registry office wedding after all, for neither side will agree to it. The ceremony is to take place in church, and I am to wear the conventional wreath and veil after all, with a wedding gown full so that movement will not unobligingly reveal my one-leggedness in outline. That would be dreadful!
You ought to see my pretties — those designed to be revealed to Edwin when he is my lawful bridegroom! I have everything a girl could wish for. As you know I am rather proud of my neat waist, and intend to display its slender proportions to the full, so that when you make a sketch of my wedding adjuncts you might see — that the waist is sharply defined. Thanks to mother's insistence, I am a very neat 25 inches, and no kidding.
The girls from the crippled school sent me a lovely pair of long black kid gloves and the most fascinating little anklets, but the dear things forgot that I need only one anklet, and not two — so I have a spare. Those are the anklets, those round things with spikes sticking out all round that you see on the bottom of the snapshot. The spikes look cruel implements of torture, don't they? I should think that they could deter Edwin from playfully grabbing at my one remaining ankle (if anything would), but as the barbaric-looking spikes are simply harmless things of gilt, no doubt he will continue in his evil ways especially as he knows it teases me so much!
All the other little things you see in the sketch are the various presents that have been sent to me from the girls. I love each and everyone of them (both presents and girls), and I know that I shall miss you all dreadfully. But as soon as the honeymoon is over I shall hold a big house-warming and invite everyone of you, and there will be special stands and racks for crutches, so that I shan't have to give you those odd looks that we got from hostesses when we used to lean our crutches against wallpaper and objects d'art, and thereby endanger their household goods. Oh, how we did wish that hostesses would bear our plight in mind when asking us out. The agony I have endured when asked to just "pour myself out a cup of tea" and I have had to hop to the tea trolley and thereby bringing all the men in the room to their feet for help! This, plus the apologies from the blushing and forgetful hostesses, were one of the banes of my life; but I promise you all that I shall not ask you to make similar exhibitions of yourselves.
Well, Joan, I intended to write a longer letter, but time is fleeting; so in case I don't get a chat at the reception, I will write to you from "somewhere in England" where our honeymoon is being spent, and tell you about everything — well, almost everything, anyway.
Yours with love
Violetta
* * *
Progression to the altar.
Dear Joan, — I have been "a Mrs" for six days now, and I have got to that stage when the honeymoon is beginning to become a bit boring. I know that Edwin fells bored, too, but he doesn't dare to mention it to me, or I to him, for fear of offending.
I wonder what makes brides and grooms so tongue-tied. And who invented these silly long honeymoons when a couple is supposed to stare into each other's eyes all the time, to the exclusion of all other interests? Love isn't a thing that flows on and on like a river. It kind of comes and goes in spasms, and in between transports even a newly married couple get very bored with doing nothing. Yet if one dares to say this, people look at one as though something improper has been voiced! No, Joan, honeymooners just can't be human. They are expected to make a public exhibition of their affections to make a kind of Roman holiday!
The wedding day went off without a hitch. I wore a long robe of white satin, complete with dragging train, and used the slenderest ebony crutch, as I did not dare to risk the one without the crossbar on this important occasion. I looked rather odd, I must say, when clad in cami-knickers, with one leg flapping empty, mother came in to say some words of good advice to the bride, sprinkled with all kind of gypsies' warnings of what not to do with a new bridegroom. It appeared that the important thing was not to laugh at Edwin (though when I first saw him in a shirt, socks and suspenders, I thought it the most ludicrous sight, and couldn't help a giggle, which I had to repress).
Anyway half way through this lecture, mother caught sight of the empty leg of my panties, and started to cry and bemoan the accident that had robbed me of my hitherto perfect pair of "Dietrich's". That was what I feared. I knew that mother was dying to cry over one ewe lamb that was leaving the home, but I didn't want to make my lameness the starting off point.
However, I managed to stem her tears by pointing out that if I hadn't been one-legged, I should never have met Edwin at the crippled girls' party where he came to work the lights. I also told her that Edwin had told me that he actually preferred me being maimed, but she said, "He is a dear boy", and went off into another series of snuffs that lasted until Dad came in to say that the cars were ready.
As I have lost my left leg, I had to take Dad's other arm going up the aisle, so that my crutch would not get mixed up with his legs and bring me down into an ignominious fall. As I entered the church I could see the congregation staring and I heard them whisper, "Poor thing!" But I was so relieved at seeing Edwin waiting at the altar that I did not care. (What with young men disappearing before their wedding day, and being found "suffering from loss of memory", a girl can't be too careful.) But there he was, with memory and ring intact; and though at one time during the ceremony I had to leave go of my crutch and just lean on it and trust to luck that it didn't slip, all went well.
They told me that I made a lovely bride, and carefully refrained from saying anything about my one-leggedness, so the day was quite cheerful on the whole. Yet I must confess that in the train I burst into tears. Edwin asked me why, and I said that I hoped that I hadn't made a mistake in getting married. But he looked so hurt at this that I forgot my miseries in comforting him.
I wonder why novelists never tell the truth about a bride's real feelings. I mean when the deed has been done and she is "a Mrs" and the ring is on her finger, and suddenly she looks at her husband, realising that, for good or ill, her life is linked to his for ever, and all at once she sees him with new eyes and he seems to be a perfectly strange man.
That is what I felt, and this is why I wept; but I suppose that all brides do it and it passes, just like "wedding day nerves". Like all brides, during one stage of my dressing I decided that I could not go through with it; but Dad came in and pointed out all Edwin's virtues and said that "I mustn't let him down." Funny how men stick together, isn't it? Kind of "better a ruined life than a ruined wedding day". But then I suppose that if fathers didn't talk like that, no girl would ever get to the altar at all. It's a wonder we brides don't disappear and suffer from faked "loss of memory" on the wedding day!
But that, like billiards, seems to be a masculine pastime. The most embarrassing time of the whole honeymoon was, I think, when first I had to ask Edwin to help me to disrobe. I seemed not only one-legged, but felt as though I was odd all over, and that I must be a hideous sight; but that soon passed off, thanks to him, and then I wondered whether I would ever be embarrassed again. One soon gets that "married feeling", doesn't one?
Ah, well, I suppose that I must stop writing and seek out my husband (that's a funny word — it starts with — a hiss and ends with a bump) and continue our Roman holiday. Actually we are both dying to get back to town.
I shall be seeing you soon.
Yours with love,
Violetta.


London Life February 3, 1940 p. 20
No Regrets
Dear Sir, — It was in 1935 that I met a pretty and charming girl, keen on dancing and all kinds of sport, in which she excelled. We then lost touch, and I often wondered, whether I should ever see her again.
At Christmas 1937 a friend invited me to spend the time with him and their wife at their house in West Country, and I was to motor down, and they lived some distance from the station, asked if I would meet a certain train and give another guest a lift. My friend did not mention the name, but said that I was to look out for a slight-built girl with fair hair and wearing a blue costume, and that she would be waiting in the tearoom at the station. I arrived in due course, and sitting in the tearoom was my friend of two years ago.
We recognised one another at once — and then I had the thrill of my life, for as she rose she picked up a pair of crutches, tucked them under her armpits and swung along on a single leg, as her right one was missing. She was prettier than when I had last seen her, and her high-heeled single shoe lent her an enchantment it is difficult to describe.
As we walked to the car she turned to me with a smile and said: "You hardly expected me to be a cripple, did you?"
I assured her I was charmed to give her the hospitality of a lift, and we then fell to talking of what had happened to her and I found she had had her leg amputated at the hip after a serious accident, and had been on crutches about a year. She could not wear a false leg, but this did not worry her in the least, as she much preferred to use a pair of slender crutches; and, furthermore, she told me she had got so accustomed to using them and to having only one leg, that she really got to like the feel of them and had come to regard her lost leg as in many ways an asset, as people were so good and kind to her. In short, she much preferred to be one-legged.
We got along famously together, and it thrilled me tremendously to take her for walks. I was very fond of dancing, but I made a point of sitting out with her, as, of course, dancing was quite out of question for her, though before she had her leg off she was a keen and good dancer. And that is how I came to have a one-legged wife.
A few days ago we were sitting over the fire, and on the fender my wife rested her one foot clad in a black patent leather shoe with a 5 inch heel, which she often wears indoors and it looked very entrancing in the firelight. We were saying that had she not been one-legged, we should probably never have married. We are ever so happy, and it is difficult to say whether I love her one-legged state more than she does. Certainly I adore her in her crippled condition, and never cease to admire her very high heeled single shoe and her one and only leg, and neither of us have regrets that it has no companion.
Yours truly,
Husband Of Crippled Girl


London Life February 3, 1940 p. 23
Triumph Over Her Handicap
Dear Sir, — I have recently taken to a pair of forearm crutches and I agree with nearly everything "La Jambe De Bois" has to say in their favour — except that armpit crutches are not over 5 feet in length unless one is a giantess! My own are 49 inches. I admit I am small, but, well, 5 feet to the armpit would mean about 6 feet 6 inches.
Actually, in my dancing days before I lost my leg, I was always what is flatteringly known, I think, as the fluffy or cuddly type — how long ago that seems!
I am only 5 feet 2 inches, my detailed measurements being: Ankle 8 inches, calf 13 inches, thigh 26 inches, hips 37 inches, waist 25 inches, bust 37 inches.
I have just checked these, and find they have hardly changed since I lost my right leg when I was 19, nearly 4 years ago, except a regrettable inch on the ankle and a normal 1 inch on the bust. Personally I should call it tubby, and I don't claim to be a Venus.
Anyhow, the snag about forearm crutches from my point of view, is that whenever one has to reach up to anything raising one's hands above elbow level, it means performing a minor balancing feat and dangling a clumsy piece of wood in mid-air. So if I am simply going to business and back home, I use my armpit pair of crutches. And in this weather I wear my fur coat. I can't see "La Jambe de Bois"' difficulty in this. A padded insert in the armpit is far less conspicuous than would be any padding on the forearm. Personally, such trouble as I get in this respect is from my chest the sides of which are apt to be rubbed by my crutches so that the material becomes shiny; but this applies only to my black business frocks which I wear frequently, and in any case it doesn't show.
I have been extremely interested in Miss Roper's dress articles, and in general the more letters I read from cripples like myself, the more I feel sure that I am wiser and luckier than most of them.
To my mind the essential feminine attribute that is most obviously challenged by the loss of a leg is grace of movement, and I hope that I will never forget to be as graceful as my one-leggedness permits. For that reason I will never, if I can help it, move on a single crutch, which must mean hunching one shoulder; nor, even when I am alone, do I ever resort to hopping.
At times I still have a hankering after an artificial limb, but I know I must resign myself to crutches. So it's a question of making the best of oneself.
As regards dress, when I was on holiday in those delightful hot days when the war began, I wore an amusing dress of my own design. It consisted of a crinoline-type green linen knee-length skirt, drawn in at the waist and self-stiffened, joined to a red cotton blouse, and with a low square-cut neck, and short sleeves puffed at the shoulder to conceal the crutch padding, and heavily embroidered in peasant style in green wool matching the skirt.
It sounds crude, perhaps, but with my long black hair in a bun over the nape of my neck, and a few dark wisps of curl in front, I can assure you I felt very satisfied, particularly as the materials were soft enough to be worn comfortably and coolly.
The fullness of the skirt helped me to hide my one-leggedness when I was sitting; yet, being only knee-length, it didn't blow about or get in the way of the free movement of my crutches. Moreover, as nature has given me a clear Irish skin and complexion I felt that by exposing my throat as far as I dared, I definitely draw attention away from my possibly repulsive lower half. It certainly seemed to work out that way!
Well, I've gone on long enough. I do hope, though, that your one-legged readers will do their share in filling your columns, and that they will do so sincerely. I can't help feeling that too often they hide their real feelings. After all, none of us honestly enjoy being cripples. There are times when it doesn't much matter, but there are many times when it definitely does. It is the overcoming of the latter cases that is so helpful to fellow-cripples, and I hope you'll be giving us plenty of examples.
Personally, I loathe the feel of my crutches. I loathe not being able to dance. I loathe ordering one shoe instead of two. I loathe being stared at. In fact, I loathe being crippled, and I cannot believe that any one-legged girl gets a honest thrill out of it. Yet I am glad to say that I am getting less and less frequently conscious about it, and there's no denying the thrill one gets from one's triumph over one's handicap, and reading of the accomplishments of others, whether physical achievements of the more feminine ones of dress or s*ex-appeal, certainly inspire one to compete.
Yours truly,
Colleen On Crutches


London Life February 10, 1940 pp. 24, 25
Another Happy Couple
Dear Miss Roper, — We have all appreciated your letters and sketches and hope you will soon be able to write again. I noticed that you were in danger of having a leg amputated, but sincerely trust you may be saved this ordeal.
I am the husband of a one-legged wife who has only worn a single shoe since she was ten years old and must confess that this was one of the early attractions she had for me. Hopping along on her crutches, I used to watch her before I got a chance to make her acquaintance, and now we are happily married. She is just sweet as she is, and we both like to hear people's remarks when we are out together.
I quite agree with your correspondent about elbow crutches. Elsie has both kinds, but the elbow pattern are much more convenient and look quite as smart as the underarm ones.
I don't think she ever feels embarrassed at her condition even with strangers, and quite takes her one leg as a matter of course. She is a merry, light-hearted girl, and often makes fun of her single leg. Her friends nickname her "Birdie" because of her hopping.
It is really fun to see her p him crutchless and then down on the grass, rolling him over, or again hopping on her one shoe about the house and laughing at an occasional slip.
In the evenings we sometimes have a little dressing up, and she will make up rather heavily and will wear silk pyjamas, and with them she will wear the daintiest little patent shoe with an absurdly high heel, and hopping over on it, she will kiss me and say: "Well, do you really like having a one-legged wife?"
The empty left shoe of this pair she made into a pin cushion and it stands on her dressing table, as she shows it with pride to her girlfriends as a novel use for an unwanted shoe. She also has a boy's suit and, with her hair pushed well under the cloth cap, she has sometimes gone up with me after dark on her crutches.
I must confess that the tapping of her crutches and the click of her little high heel about the house are very fascinating, and don't really think that either of us regret the days when she had both her legs.
Yours truly,
Husband Of One Leg.
(This seems to affect my theory that one-legged girls only wanted chivalry and not real admiration. Oh, well, we live and learn! I hope to be writing again soon. Thank you for all your letters to me. — Joan Roper.)


London Life February 24, 1940 pp. 47, 48, 65, 66
Confessions Of A Lover Of The Limbless
Memories of Paris Nights and Days.
by Wallace Stort
(See story-files!...)



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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

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London Life February 24, 1940 p. 58
Wallace Stort Replies To Joan Roper
Dear Sir, — I would like to say a few words on Miss Roper's articles, in which I have been very interested. I understand perfectly, and respect Miss Roper's point of view. I know her article must be helpful to many readers. But, if I may say so, her point of view is that of the normal person pitying and offering consolation to the crippled girl. That is healthy and fine. There's no gainsaying that.
What I think Miss Roper fails to realise — and I say it without intending any offence — is that there is quite a large proportion of one-legged girls who do not regard themselves as cripples, and that the very last thing they ask for is pity or consolation. That large proportion is represented by the majority of "monopedes" who write of themselves and their experiences to the columns of "London Life". Further, that there exists a certain type of man who finds the monopede attractive — not in spite of, but because of her one-leggedness.
It is primarily this type of girl and man which is represented in the correspondents columns of this paper, and to whom articles and stories in its columns are addressed. I feel therefore, admirable though Miss Roper's articles are, that at least some of her dicta will not commend themselves to this comparatively large section of your readers. I should say that she is convinced that no one-legged girl is attractive because of her deficiency, and that such a girl should never dream of trying to attract by that means. The columns of "London Life" for the past ten or twelve years have afforded a complete answer to these opinions.
May I suggest, very diffidently, that Miss Roper would better please the one-legged lady readers of this paper if her fashion articles were designed to advise them on how to make the most of their unusual charms, rather than how best to hide what she regards a pitiable infirmity?
I hope Miss Roper will not take all this as a impertinence. I respect her point of view, as I have said, merely thinking it wrongly directed in the present instance. In any case, I have found her articles extremely well done and, for their own standpoint, very interesting.
Yours truly,
Wallace Stort.


London Life March 2, 1940 p. 25
Joan Roper Replies
Dear miss Jackson, — As I promised in the January double number, I am now replying in full to your letter. I am afraid that your maimed condition would not lend itself nicely to a sketch of this outfit, but I will describe it in words.
A leg that is 10 inches shorter than the other, our doctor says, is a very unusual phenomenon among the maimed. It either suggests complete paralysis of that leg at an early age, or a malformation at birth. If the second, then some twist of the spine must also be present, even if slight. Bearing both facts in mind, I suggest that your new outfit should be as follows:
Have a short black jacket seamed with a flared, rather long skirt, cut with a decided flare. The skirt hem should quite cover the maimed leg. This may give you a monopedic impression; but if, as you say, your leg is ten inches shorter, then you can't walk without crutches, anyway. (That is what my doctor says.) A ten inch limp would distort the whole body.
With your jacket you could wear a pink satin blouse, high-necked and long— sleeved, plus a hat trimmed with pink flowers and a veil. Your gloves to be of stout but fine black kid. This outfit would be both fashionable and chic and serve to disguise the poor malformed limb.
My own left leg is 4 inches shorter than the other, which gives me a decided limp, and for many years I had to use crutches until the doctors had succeeded in "stretching" the limb (cage and weight method) until it came to a 4 inch limp only. In a maimed limb with a 10 inch limp, the flesh-producing and walking muscles must be almost atrophied. Hence my suggestion that you must still be using crutches.
Yours truly,
Joan Roper.


London Life March 9, 1940 p. 19
Ideas For A Bridal Outfit
Dear Sir, — The recent articles by Wallace Stort and Joan Roper on "monopedes" were most interesting indeed, and I am sure the notes on the bridal outfit described by the latter will be of particular interest to my one-legged friend in the U.S.A. Through her accident, her condition attracted numerous friends, and one of them "popped the question", so they are soon to be married. In view of this fact, the article by Miss Roper was very useful and interesting.
Perhaps other readers can suggest a bridal outfit for my friend, for I am sure she would welcome any suggestion, so that she can look her best.
I have pleasure in sending two snaps of my friend, and trust they will interest your readers.
Yours truly,
A.H.


London Life March 9, 1940
My Reply To Wallace Stort
Dear Mr. Stort, — I read with great interest your letter of praise and criticism of my efforts, and thank you for the nice things you said about my articles; but, concerning the matter of one-legged girls and their allure, you and I find ourselves exceedingly at variance. Simply put this way, we find the line of demarcation. Your view is this:
That a girl is more attractive than others simply because she is one— legged. In other words, her misfortune, in your eyes, is her greatest allure.
My view is as follows:
That one-leggedness in itself is not an attraction, but that a one-legged girl can be very attractive indeed, not because of her infirmity, but in spite of it.
Let us examine in full your view.
You admit to being intrigued by a monopede to such an extent that you prefer one-legged girls as friends. Because their lack of limbs is an attraction in your eyes, you hold the view that, by dress and make-up, they should accentuate their loss of limb. You even go so far as to state that most men are intrigued by this one-legged state.
No, Mr. Stort, I am afraid you are wrong there. The admiration of a pretty girl is general, whether she be a monopede or not; but the admiration of monopedes, as such, is anything but general. It approaches being a fetish; and the average person is not a fetishist.
That is why I advocate smart moderation in dress for lame and one-legged girls. Charm is a matter of appealing to the greatest number of people at the same time. A girl dressed in ultra short skirts that emphasises her lack of limb would appal most men. Very few human beings like such deficiencies thrust upon them.
My point of view is that of the average person, and your point of view is that of the person with a particular aim and fad in life. There we part company.
At the same time, I must tell you how very intrigued a lot of one-legged girls at the home I live in were by your story of the limbless heroines. You certainly have a gift for description, and your prose is exquisite.
So, though our points of view do not meet, at least we can admire each other's work and varying ideas, can't we?
Yours truly,
Joan Roper.


London Life March 30, 1940 p. 27 — 31, 43
Confessions Of A Lover Of The Limbless
Being Memories of Paris Nights and Days.
by Wallace Stort
(See story-files!...)


London Life April 6, 1940 p. 23
A Bridal Dress For A Monopede
Dear Sir, Your correspondent "A. H.'s" request for suggestions as to the wedding rig-out of the charming young lady whose portrait appears twice on page 19 of a recent issue, opens up a whole vista of attractive possibilities. But alas, one difficulty lies in the war — a wedding is a solemn ceremony, and any too great originality or flamboyance in decorative effect is thereby precluded.
If the ceremony is to take place in church, or to be celebrated with religious rites in a private house, as so often in America, then I see no reason whatever why the conventional white should not be worn — veil, orange blossoms and all.
As the bride-to-be appears to be dark-haired, and doubtless dark— complexioned, a comparatively heavy material — say satin with an ivory finish — would be the better.
If, as I presume, she is to be married on crutches (otherwise a special provision would seem necessary), she might have a pair enamelled white, with tops covered with white satin to match her dress. Neither dress nor veil should be too long to avoid the risk of entanglements. Steps abound in church porches, chancels, etc (and in the hallways of registry offices as well!) as it is an ominous thing for a bride to stumble during or immediately after the wedding ceremony, she should familiarise herself with the terrain first so as to know where to look out for pitfalls.
Gratings over hot-water pipes are all too common in aisles and chancels, and all such should carefully covered up with carpet or matting as; providing the very worst of traps for high heels, not to speak of the tips of crutches.
The kneeling parts of the service can easily be conducted standing, if arrangement be made with the minister beforehand, as it is practically impossible for a one-legged girl to kneel in comfort.
Flowers, too, about her person, she must dispense with. She will not be able to carry a bouquet, and flowers fastened to her corsage or elsewhere would hardly be a success. The groom, accordingly, should dispense with a buttonhole.
Should the ceremony be purely civil, in the town hall or elsewhere, then all depends on the season. In cool weather I should suggest a longish pearl-grey coat or coat-frock roughly ankle length — a small black hat with or without veil, trimmed with a glittering silver or diamond buckle, or other ornament and a black patent shoe with a heel as is consonant with safety, with buckle to match that on the hat. A pair of plain black French crutches should be used with absolutely new and unscratched enamel and unworn leather tops — the latter are essential for an effect of real smartness.
Should the weather be hot, then a knee-length white silk frock would seem to fit the bill, with a white-brimmed hat of natural-coloured fine straw, with a fairly long white silk streamer or muslin veil fluttering behind. White silk stockings and satin shoe, of course, and white enamelled crutches, as suggested for use with full bridal attire, above.
As for underwear, a pair of very short step-ins should be worn. Anyhow, the best of luck to her, and a wedding-day that all concerned will remember with a thrill their lives through. With regard to Miss Roper's reply to Mr. Stort on the same page, I do not think the former quite realises how frequent the "monopede complex" is in the "susceptible s*ex", nor its exact nature.
One-legged girls are by no means common these days, and such as exist seldom find admirers lacking, even if they are nothing out of the ordinary as regards looks. I suppose most of us have a liking for the odd and unnatural in some form or other, as witness the number of love letters received of old by the bearded lady and other exhibits in Barnum's freak section. But there is much more to it than that.
There is a very decided piquancy about an essentially pleasant-looking girl swinging herself gaily along on a smart pair of crutches, perhaps at a pace few ordinary walkers can keep up with.
The emotions of astonishment and curiosity — pity doesn't come in if she is obviously "top of the world" and thoroughly pleased with herself — soon give place to a deeper interest, part scientific, part emotional; the desire to discover how far she differs psychologically from normal girls; how far her daily life is affected; what thrills and adventures her condition brings her. Hence the "monopede complex".
Only a minority of girls can carry off any extravagance in dress, make-up or s*ex emphasis; but should our monopede be such one, then certainly let her make all the capital she may out of her unusual state.
If she is comparatively ordinary looking, healthy and active, then let her attract attention by her efficiency in ordinary matters, deftness in the use of her crutches, and readiness to joke over such occasional mishaps as will inevitably befall her.
She needs have no fear of being neglected or unduly pitied, save by sentimental old ladies who she can afford to laugh at.
Finally let me mention that the wearing of an artificial leg in public is for a girl such as I have in mind, nine times out of ten a mistake. There is nothing very "fetching" about a painful limp or slow and stiff walk; nor is it really so practical as rapid and graceful motion on expertly managed and well-kept crutches.
I have known several cases of one-legged girls whose male admirers definitely disapproved of the wearing of artificial limbs when in their company, and can fully understand the reason.
I'm afraid you'll think this communication inordinately long. Please — if you have got so far at all — accept my hearty apologies.
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life April 6, 1940 p. 18
Missed The Boat
Dear Sir, — It might perhaps interest readers to hear of this little incident that happened to me last summer.
I was motoring from my home to Newquay for a few days' holiday to meet some friends. As I am fond of doing during the summer months, I took with me a thermos flask and some sandwiches for a snack somewhere en route.
I pulled up on the verge of Partmoor and proceeded to have my snack. After a few moments I noticed with little concern what looked like a man with one leg and crutches, walking towards me in the distance. However, on looking again a moment later, I could see it was a girl wearing slacks and who had only one leg. To my surprise, she came across to me in rather an agitated manner and asked whether I could let her have some petrol, since her car had run dry and she had to meet some friends at Okehampton, off the train. They probably would think she was not coming, and wanted avoid their hiring a car unnecessarily.
I regretted I could not, as all my petrol was in the tank; but I would gladly get her some.
I think it was at this point that I realised how attractive this young lady was. She was wearing a yellow jumper, and was very tall and slim. Her grey striped trousers and brown crepe-soled sports shoe made her appearance conspicuous. The left trouser leg had been cut off and sewn up, and I could see she had absolutely no left leg at all. Her fair hair, which reached her shoulders, fell limply about a she moved, and her crutches were of some grey material. She was a most amazingly good-looking girl.
She got in, I got her petrol for her, and left her with her engine running.
It was not until afterwards did I realise how I wish I had tried to get to know her.
Thanking the Editor for his valuable space,
Yours truly,
Missed The Boat.


London Life April 13, 1940 p. 23
Monopody
Dear Sir, — my wife and I are pleased to see a revival of letters on our pet subject, monopody, and hope that correspondence on this topic will be maintained.
My wife is one of those rare mortals, a one-armed monopede; and, as both limbs are absent from the same side, she has a further claim to the unusual in that she has never been able to use a crutch. Her condition makes it a necessity to use an artificial support to get about, her usual choice being a beautifully made light metal leg. She has never needed to use a stick, and the slightest suspicion of lameness in her walk is remarkable.
Dilys prefers to be seen as a normal person, such as is the case when wearing this leg, but there is in reserve, in case of accidents (and for suitable occasions) a pin leg with detachable spindle (for which she has three alternate spindles to wear, according to her dress, of white, red and the other covered in polished tan leather) and a black leather knee-jointed peg leg with a broad rubber-shod base. Incidentally, this latter was her practice leg before being fitted for the metal one.
Dilys was actually wearing this when I first met her; doing her utmost to conceal its presence, too. She was sitting with her sound leg over the peg, concealing all of it except the rubber-covered tip.
Sitting opposite her in the train during the journey, I hardly believe anyone could have failed to realise that besides the obvious loss of the left leg, her left arm was false as well. The inevitable glove covered the hand and the whole arm, lying across her lap, was rigidly unnatural and motionless. In fact the only movement was when she herself straightened it and put it down to her side with her right hand before getting out.
Actually the remains of Dily's arm is only about 3 inches from the shoulder, making the usefulness of the wooden substitute very limited. She was fitted with it as soon as possible after the operation to cover the loss, and no habit dies hard, for I have continually triad to persuade her to do without it, without result. She says she feels undressed not wearing the two artificial limbs.
The arm restricts her choice of dress, for sleeveless or low-necked frocks are impossible, and it has an added disadvantage of not always remaining in the place and position in which it has been put. In itself, as she wears it for formal occasions, it inadequately covers the loss of her left arm, performing no other function than that. The hand, however, is detachable from the forearm, and can be substituted by a steel hook which enables Dilys to do many otherwise impossible things in and about the house.
Our wedding would not have inspired Wallace Stort to take up the pen, as it was perfectly ordinary and, for W.S., uninspiring — Dilys, as usual insisting on being fully equipped with her metal leg and white-gloved arm.
Yours truly,
One-Armed Monopede's Mate.


London Life April 13, 1940 p. 24
Its Own Reward
Dear Sir, — The recent letters of Miss Jackson and Miss Joan Roper on the subject of dress for crippled girls have been so full of interest for me that I would like to add my humble views on one or two points, if your space will permit. The subject is one which has always interested me very greatly, and the nature of my work prior to the outbreak of war gave me ample opportunities for making it a close study both in the United Kingdom and in many Continental countries.
It has always appeared to me that the lame girl must herself decide at the outset whether she wishes to obtain the maximum degree of comfort and ease of manipulation for her crippled leg or whether she is prepared to sacrifice such comfort to obtain as much concealment as possible for her deformity.
For a number of years I was privileged to work in a large training school, through which I saw very badly crippled girls pass. In trying to fit them ultimately to take their place as normally as possible in the world outside the question of dress was one of many problems to which they were encouraged to give serious consideration. In such surroundings the desire for concealment did not arise, and a somewhat typical schoolgirl's uniform was worn.
With many of them I have kept in touch now that they are in their middle twenties, and in by far the majority of cases it is true to say that they sacrifice every other consideration for that of comfort.
There is one other point I would like to add to the discussion, if I may. How many lame girls go to the trouble of altering their clothes or making them to fit their deformed legs? From my own experience, though I am afraid it is somewhat meagre, I should say very few; but yet how amply it would repay them.
Miss Roper's reply to Mr. Wallace Stort with regard to the lame girl's attraction is, I think, excellent. For my own part, I feel that the majority of crippled girls set a wonderful example to their fellow men of courage, endurance and charm, and in that alone there may be some form of appeal.
Speaking purely personally, my first reaction when I see a crippled girl, even though she be a complete stranger, is a strong desire to know her and to help her. As a cripple I feel that she is unable to enjoy to the full life as her able-bodied sister knows it. "Cannot I do something to recompense her for what she is missing?" is the question which I immediately ask of myself. If in the course of my life I am only able to help a few, I feel that my efforts will not be wasted. It is hard work sometimes, and one meets with many rebuffs, but it is full of its own rewards. Would that I could do infinitely more than I can.
Yours truly,
C.R.C.


London Life April 20, 1940 p. 24
A Plump Monopede
Dear Sir, — I hope you can publish this letter in "London Life", of which I have been a reader of some little time.
I am 25 years of age, and for the last 9 months I have been a one-legged girl, having my right leg smashed in a motor accident, and I did not know that it had been amputated until a day or two after it had been taken off, when I was told that I was one-legged.
I am employed in the office of a large firm of shoe manufacturers, and I have been back in business six months since I became one-legged. It is impossible for me to wear an artificial or peg leg, and within a few weeks of the amputation I commenced to use a single crutch. I find it much easier to manipulate than a pair, and it leaves my hand free.
I cannot somehow reconcile myself to the fact that I am one-legged, as I am continually endeavouring to use a leg I no longer possess.
I certainly save on stockings, as I only require one at a time instead of a pair, and I wear the American roll type with a garter just above the knee. Also I am able to get from my firm a single left shoe whenever I require one — which, of course, is a consideration. Undies, however, were a source of worry to me until I discovered that by cutting off practically the whole of the right leg of my cami-knickers and panties, I was able to solve that empty dangling and flapping annoyance which so many one-legged girls experience who have been amputated similarly to myself.
I have always been inclined to be well on the plump side, but since I have had only one leg and a crutch to get about with, I have put on quite a lot of weight and now I turn the scale at just over 12 stones, although I am only of the average height; so you will readily understand that I am indeed plump!
My crutch is of the pole type, sprung under the shoulder rest and also at the foot of the pole where it fits into the rubber shoe, thus preventing the slightest jarring. The shoulder rest is well padded.
When I commenced getting about on one leg and crutch, I became very friendly with a boy, and he has recently obtained for me, through your kindness and courtesy, quite a lot of back numbers containing letters and photographs from one-legged girl readers and also stories by Wallace Stort, which I am having bound, as well as the six war Volumes published by you. I should, however, very much like to obtain some more back treble numbers before doing so, but they would have to be numbers prior to the last five years, as I think I have all since then.
I have found that these have helped to cheer me up and cause me to come to regard my one leg in the same light as I used to do when it had a companion, my boyfriend has told me, however, that he prefers me as I am, so that, of course, is some compensation for being one-legged.
I am considered to be rather good-looking, and am a typical redhead. I have a flat fringe over my forehead and ears, and brush my Titian hair back in a long, smooth bob which reaches down to my shoulders. I also favour a vivid brilliant lipstick as bright as my ginger hair.
I suppose that I shall eventually become accustomed to having only one leg and a crutch; at any rate, I sincerely hope I do, because I fully realise that this is the only way in which I can go now through life. But if the time that I have known my boyfriend (to whom, by the way, I became engaged this Easter) proves to be anything to go by, I feel sure that I shall soon recognise and accept in a natural way my one leg and its crutch companion.
Trusting that this letter is not too long, and hoping to be able to obtain some back numbers, as the others have given me many hours of pleasure in reading other one-legged girls' experiences.
If this letter is suitable, I will write again later and give your readers my further experiences.
I will conclude now with the best of luck to all one-legged girl readers.
Yours truly,
One Leg And One Crutch.


London Life April 27, 1940 p. 61
A Champion On One Leg
Dear Sir, — I think the enclosed photo will interest a number of your readers. It shows Olive Kent of Swansea, winning a dancing competition although she possesses only one leg. Miss Kent had her leg amputated twenty years ago, when she was ten years old. Her life ambition has been to overcome her handicap, and she began this difficult task by learning to use a scooter. At the age of seven her father taught her to swim, and she has now a collection of medals and cups for diving. She believes she is the only one-legged girl to hold a life-saving certificate. Her idea is to go on the stage, where I feel sure she would prove a great attraction.
Yours truly,
Zenophon.


London Life April 27, 1940 pp. 56 — 57
A Psychologist Replies
Dear Sir, — As an old and faithful reader of your most interesting paper, I follow with much interest the discussion between Miss Joan Roper and Mr. Wallace Stort about the question of the attractiveness of monopedes. In my opinion both are in the possession of half the truth.
Miss Joan Roper is right in her opinion that the admiration of monopedes is a kind of psychological phenomenon known as "fetishism". As you know, the great man in this field had been the late Professor Dr. Krafft Ebing. This particular one he placed under the head: "Body Defects as Fetish".
Some people are attracted by lame, blind, malformed, etc, girls. The liking for "amputees" is rather general among this kind of fetishist. Other kinds of fetishists are attracted by the hair, by corsets, by shoes with high heels, etc. Every part of the body and everything belonging to the clothing etc, can become a fetish according to Dr. Krafft. It is interesting that the liking for rubber clothes, etc, so often a topic in "London Life", is nor described by Dr. Krafft Ebing. This kind of fetish is a discovery of your readers.
Now, Krafft Ebbing esteems — and rightly, it seems to me — that fetishism becomes truly abnormal as soon as the fetish is something not being a part of the remaining body itself. So shoe fetishism, for instance, should be considered as truly "abnormal"; hair fetishism is still "normal"; amputee fetishism as being exactly at the limit between "normal" and "abnormal", because it bears upon some part of the feminine body, but upon some part that normally does not exist. This distinction seems right since the most normal lover is attracted by one or more parts of the feminine body, but not by dead things as clothes, shoes, etc.
According to Krafft Ebing, there is also no such thing as the "anti— fetish". So may some people be repelled by monopedes, high heeled shoes, etc. Those things play a part in what may be called "taste" of a given individual.
Even without any interference of an anti-fetish, it is clear that a quite normal man will not be very inclined to marry a monopede, or a lame or blind girl. For obvious reasons they will fear the complications of life with an invalid partner. Other things being equal, the quite normal man will prefer marriage with a partner who is not suffering under a bodily handicap.
A monopede will repel every man for whom an amputation is an anti-fetish. She will have difficulty to overcome the mental objections from every man for whom her condition is neither a fetish nor an anti-fetish, for she would have to be very attractive in other respects to make him accept the burden of an invalid wife. The only kind of man really willing to share life with a monopede are those for whom her condition is a fetish. And here we come to the point where, in my belief, Mr. Wallace Stort is right. Given the quasi-impossibility for a monopede to find a normal man, or a man who finds amputation as an anti-fetish, willing to marry her, she should, if she wants matrimony, direct her efforts to the men who feel amputation as a fetish. Therefore, she should follow Mr. Wallace Stort's counsels, and not those of Miss Joan Roper.
Hiding her amputation is no use for a monopede, because it will be discovered, sooner or later. Had it be really hidden — a dubious thing — she will run the risk of her lover getting a mental shock at what he feels perhaps is a defect. And it is very questionable if an artificial leg is able to hide effectively the defect. Mostly they transform the real amputation in an apparent lame leg, lagging behind at every step and producing a rather hideous walk. This is true for even the best ones.
So, in my opinion, the only right thing to do for a monopede wishing to marry, is displaying frankly her an amputee status. In this way she will repel, once for all, the kind of men who dislike — for whatever reason — monopedes, and so she will avoid bitter deceptions. On the other hand she will attract the kind of men liking amputees, but disliking lame legs.
I know from experience that those people are much more numerous than is generally supposed. I know some who complain bitterly of the wearing of artificial legs by monopede girls, just because of the difficulty of distinguishing them, with such an apparatus, from lame girls. An artificial leg is a "cosmetic" contraption that has, in this way, often as a result the contrary of that intended.
Miss Joan Roper is decidedly wrong in her supposition that the percentage of monopede fetishists is too small to be worth reckoning with.
Besides, there are many male monopedes who prefer a sufferer of the opposite s*ex, not by fetishism, but by the rational consideration that a two-legged wife will always despise, more or less, a one-legged husband. Then there seems to be no preference for male monopedes among the ladies.
So I belief monopede girls should, as is Mr. Wallace Stort's opinion, in no way try to hide their condition, but on the contrary, display it frankly and make the best of it in accepting facts as they are and liking them for their special advantages. Of course these advantages cannot balance the disadvantages, but there is no use in crying over spilt milk. And it is for the female monopedes a kind of consolation that some — rather many men are attracted by their misfortune.
Male monopedes and other invalids have, unfortunately, no such consolation.
This letter is already very long, but I will not send it without giving expression to my admiration for "London Life" and for Mr. Wallace Stort. Comparing "London Life" with other illustrated papers of the same kind in other countries, I must say it is the only one treating topics of psychological nature in a serious and interesting way. As to Mr. Wallace Stort, I am able, by experience, to state that many of the details he tells about night life in Paris during the interval between the late war and the present one absolutely conform to fact.
Wishing you, Mr. Wallace Stort and your other contributors ever more success with "London Life".
Yours truly,
Psychologist, Holland.


London Life April 27, 1940 p. 58
Wallace Stort And Miss Roper
Dear Miss Roper, — I am not proposing to conduct a lengthy controversy in these columns, and I am sure you would not wish to do so either. In any case, the Editor would have something very tense to say about such a proposal. But I hope he will allow me just a little of his valuable space to reply to one of your contentions in your recently published letter addressed to me.
For that reasonable and well-considered reply to me and for its very charming but, I am afraid, no wholly deserved references to my stories and articles, I thank you very much. With the bulk of the letter I have no quarrel, but in one respect either I did not make my meaning sufficiently clear in my own letter, or you have misunderstood what I intended to convey.
You say that it is my opinion that "most" men find one-legged girls attractive, because of their deficiency. My dear Miss Roper, I should be an unthinking idiot if I held such an opinion or made such a statement! I know, as anybody else does, that nine men out of ten, ninety-nine out of every hundred, regard a one-legged girl as a one-legged cripple; but the prettier the girl, the more pity they feel for her misfortune. How could I think otherwise?
No, Miss Roper; what I think you have missed is the fact that I was not dealing with the normal point of view of the vast majority of men at all. Very few letters in the correspondence columns of this journal of any subject do so! I was thinking "solely" in terms of readers of "London Life" interested in this particular topic.
All I wished to convey — as has become very obvious to readers over a long period of years — was that there happens to be a "certain type" of man abnormally and inexplicably attracted by one-legged girls — and, in fact, by all degrees of limblessness in attractive woman. And further, that it was this type (and this type only) that was represented for most part in the letters from interested men readers to the correspondence columns.
I also expressed the view that most of the "monopedes" who contribute to the correspondents columns are aware of this attraction and, in very many cases, find the knowledge very acceptable and even thrilling. I still maintain that, and I still offer the correspondence columns for the past ten or twelve years as convincing evidence of my claim.
When, therefore, I made my suggestion that your fashions for one-legged girls might be designed rather to enhance than to conceal such a girl's charms, I was thinking "solely" of the one-legged lady readers of this paper. I had no intention of legislating for the general run of one-legged or otherwise crippled girls.
I know, of course, that the vast majority of crippled girls have no desire at all to draw attention to their cripple condition. That is the normal and reasonable attitude.
You see, Miss Roper, you are a comparative newcomer to "London Life". This particular topic — the allure of the monopede — has been discussed in its pages for many years and, apart from my own articles and stories, which cover a period of twelve or so years, has drawn forth many hundreds of letters, both from monopedes and limbless girls, and from their admirers.
Practically all the letters have been concerned solely with the "attraction" of the one-legged girl. It was that strange and inexplicable attraction that gave the subject its peculiar interest when it was first introduced in these columns and has continued to be of interest to its coterie of readers ever since.
I hope I have my standpoint a little clearer and, in doing so, I hope I haven't appeared too dogmatic or unkind. As for your own standpoint, as I have said, I understand it and respect it. It is in fact the normal, healthy point of view. And now I agree that, with that viewpoint, the attitude you take in your articles is the only one possible for you.
So, my dear Miss Roper, don't worry any more about any strictures of mine, but go ahead on your own very interesting and very helpful lines. At any rate, you will have gathered that I have been sufficiently interested to read everything you have written! Perhaps that will compensate for any annoyance I may have caused you.
Yours very sincerely,
Wallace Stort.


London Life May 4, 1940 pp. 18-19
Light And Logic For The Limbless
Dear Sir, — I was a little surprised and a great deal flattered when my lengthy epistle appeared in a recent issue of "London Life". Had I, at the time when I composed it, seen "Violetta's" two charming letters communicated by miss Roper to the January double number, covering so much of the same ground so adequately, I might not, indeed, have ventured to send it in!
It seems rather late in the day to comment on anything more than two months old, but I feel I must say a little in criticism of the drawing — in itself beautiful — that accompanied "Violetta's" letters. I'm quite sure that she did not do it herself or that it was copied from a photograph of her or any other monopede. The young lady depicted is not one-legged at all; if she were, her pose would be absolutely impossible!
"Violetta" tells us that she has lost her left leg, but the girl in the illustration, from the set of her body, is resting practically her whole weight on her left leg, concealed on her ample shirt. As the toe of her right shoe is visible, she has not lost that leg either, so the crutch, prominently displayed though it is actually supporting nothing but the arm resting on it, must be necessitated by some other disability, say, partial paralysis of the right leg.
Nor could the bride carry the bouquet shown; she would require her free hand to manipulate her voluminous drapery, that would otherwise make the single crutch mode of locomotion quite impracticable, and anyhow, she would be debarred from the support of a male arm going along the aisle.
One final point of criticism — please forgive me! "Violetta" distinctly says that she was married in wreath and veil. In the drawing no wreath is shown — only a strange horned headdress remarkably suggestive of a gentleman whose presence at a wedding would hardly be welcome.
As for the monopede bride who was the pretext of my letter, I enclose three very rough sketches of the rig-outs I suggested, in so far as I can visualise them. Should you find anything in them of any value for publication, they might be re-drawn by your staff artist and the costumes corrected in detail (I'm not a fashion expert!) and brought into line with the modes of the moment. I have given the bridal dress as long a skirt as, under the circumstances, would be either safe or convenient, thought it might be a good deal fuller, if so wished, as might the veil, so long as the bridesmaids were handy to keep it under control. The hint of a fleur— de-lis pattern embroidered on the corsage is by way of a symbolical substitute for a bouquet.
In the second figure the coat is in the "edge-to-edge" variety I have seen prominently displayed in shop windows lately. Its length is more for the purpose of protection of the wearer's leg from cold than for anything else. The fastening buckle, the ornament on the hat and the shoe buckle should all be similar in material (diamond, silver or marcasite), and technique, though not necessarily so in actual design. The earrings, too, should match them more or less.
The third costume, with summer hat and veil, requires no comment.
I have given all three figures gloves, even though these would have been removed for the actual ceremony, as gloves would seem essential for public wear when crutches are used; they would always be of the same colour as the latter, unless direct contrast — e.g. black and white, black and red, red and white be the keynote of the ensemble. Similarly, the fur shown as worn with the coat should either be of silver fox or chinchilla to match, or else of black fox to match hat, crutches and shoe; and the veil, if worn at all, of corresponding pearl grey or black net.
The reason for my suggestion that the bride should prefer "very short step— ins" as part of her underwear is admirably illustrated by the episode that "Violetta" so movingly describes, of her mother's tears at the sight of her empty knicker leg.
When likely to remove upper garments in other people's presence, the monopede should never wear knickers appreciably longer than her stump, as a long knicker leg flapping empty emphasises her one-leggedness and so evokes the unwelcome sympathy of the sentimental.
The second part of Mr. Stort's article in the March double number brings up all manner of points of interest to those possessed of the "monopede complex". I fully endorse his views as to the danger and injuriousness of the single-crutch method of progression, as putting and unnatural strain on the shoulder girdle and spinal column and tending also to impose excessive work on the remaining leg. Even indoors a pair of crutches should be used for support when long standing is necessary — e.g. for such a job as ironing. I am not so sure, either, about the aesthetic appeal of a girl on one crutch. Surely the charm of a monopede lies largely in the contrast of asymmetry and symmetry the asymmetrical body (the human body appears asymmetrical from most points of view) heightened in its asymmetry by the missing leg, balanced by the ultra-asymmetrical effect of progression on a pair of crutches.
The one-crutch method exaggerated the effect of one-leggedness, and so of asymmetry, to the brink of distortion, and a preference for it shows descent from an intellectual excentricity to sheer freakishness of taste. I suspect the young men who prefer their monopede girlfriends to adopt the single crutch do so mainly because it leaves an arm free to hold on to theirs by, and so the double support is restored.
(You will notice I've given the bride of my sketches a pair of crutches each time, though she would almost certainly replace the off-crutch by the bridegroom's arm coming down the aisle, even if she had not done so by her father's when advancing to the altar or registrar's desk.)
As for the origin of the "monopede's complex" in individuals; with me it began in my late teens with the chance meeting with a one-legged girl (she was one of a party I conducted round an anatomical museum), with whom I afterwards struck up a friendship.
Short-sighted as a schoolboy, and unable to wear glasses through the frequent rough-and-tumbles incidental to school life in those days, I thus found an acquaintance I could recognise infallibly at any distance in any costume! She was rather a wonderful person, heavily built and muscular. I remember her once walking seven miles at a stretch on the spring-topped crutches she affected, and that I still think the best make (as well as the smartest looking!) for a heavyweight monopede.
In later years I have met with several of my s*ex with a similar interest in the fair one-legged — notably the husband and adoring younger brother, respectively, of the most beautiful monopede I know; a Cambridge Undergraduate of recent vintage in whom the complex appears to have arisen quite spontaneously; and, most sensational of all, a young house surgeon in a London hospital, who became engaged to a beautiful girl whom he saw for the first time on the operating table when he administered the anaesthetic for her amputation!
Finally, as regards the limbless beauty so vividly described in the last part of Mr. Stort's article, I remember hearing as long ago as 1915 of a Parisian stage star — I've forgotten her identity, though it was made no secret of at the time — who was forced to leave the theatre by the onset of a mysterious necrosis of all her limb-bones that was expected to cause her death in a few months at most, but who, with typically French patriotic fervour, expressed her intention of keeping alive, if only by sheer will— power, till the enemy were driven from the soil of France! I never heard if she achieved her desire, but it looks as if she did and, by submitting to timely amputation, lived to become the idolised wife who aroused such interest in Mr. Stort's circle.
As for "Missed the Boat", he has my full sympathy. He should have been quicker on the uptake. I, too, had a not dissimilar, though not quite so extraordinary, experience myself, of which I still occasionally think with regret. Some day, perhaps, I may write about it!
I'm afraid, sir, I've been even more prolix this time than last; But, anyhow, you haven't been forced to read my rigmarole.
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life May 18, 1940 p. 18
Bouquets For Wallace Stort
Dear Sir, — I have followed with close interest the courteous duel between Joan Roper and Wallace Stort. There is no doubt that victory rests with the latter, who, as "psychologist" agrees, has established his contention that there is a class of men who find monopedes attractive. This being so, the monopede who hopes for marriage should not attempt to conceal her deficiency, but to display it attractively. Incidentally, let me express to Wallace Stort my great gratitude for his splendid articles and stories.
While I am handing out bouquets, I should certainly like to hand one to "Zenophon" and another to Miss Olive Kent, the charming one-legged subject of his letter and photograph. All your many interested readers will wish to hear more of Miss Kent, her thoughts, experiences and ambitions. She is certainly the most beautiful of the monopedes whose photographs have appeared in your pages. If Miss Kent wishes to go on to stage the publicity given — and I hope to be given — her through the pages of "London Life" may well help her to achieve her ambition. In any case, we should like to hear more of her and to have some more photographs.
I observe that Wallace Stort only deals with that class of man definitely possessing the limbless kink. I agree that this class exists probably in greater numbers than is generally supposed, but I think there is another and larger class who, while not possessing the kink, is definitely interested in and by no means repelled by one-legged girls.
I have several monopede friends, and I have always found that other acquaintances who know of such friendship exhibit a keen interest in the girls. This interest is due, I am certain, not to idle curiosity, but to a feeling akin to but much weaker than my own. If an attractive monopede enters a crowded place, one can always sense a quickening of interest among those present, and it is surprising how many people wish to ask questions concerning the girl. In any case I should be interested to know Wallace Stort's views on this aspect of the question.
Yours truly,
Disciple.


London Life May 25, 1940 p. 70
An Explanation
Dear Miss Roper, It is a long time ago that I wrote you asking for suggestions for dress for my lame condition, and I described my appearance in detail with full particulars of the fact that my right leg was short — 10 inches — with a perfectly stiff knee joint and my foot equally stiff with the toes pointing to the ground.
You were good enough to suggest an outfit for me, but in your accompanying letter you stated that if my leg was short as I had told you — and I gathered that you rather doubted it — then I should be unable to walk without the aid of crutches. I use a pair of crutches, as my leg hangs useless but clear of the ground.
A contraction of the muscles of the leg from the hip to the foot produced this extreme shortness, and I know it only too well; for though I'm happy with my crippled leg, I do not forget that I am on crutches always, ever since my accident, and of course my lameness can never be improved short of an amputation.
I have been meaning to give you this explanation long ago, and to thank you for your suggestions, but I have been away for a considerable time.
Yours truly,
Miss J.


London Life May 25, 1940 p. 70
Latin v. Greek
Dear Sir, — Now that the slight controversy between Miss Roper and Mr. Stort seems to have come to an end, I should like to endorse nearly all Mr. Stort has said with regard to the appeal one-legged girls have for the opposite s*ex. I would, however, like to ask Mr. Stort how it is that in one of his stories he stated that he coined the word "monopede" and that it is not to be found in any English dictionary. I am not suggesting that he did not coin it, but I would like to know why he coined it.
It appears to me to be a misspelling of the word "monopode" which figures in Baker's "New English dictionary", and it is there stated that it is derived from the Greek, meaning one foot. (Greek, podos, Latin, pedis).
It appears therefore that monopede (Latin) or monopode (Greek) should in either case mean "one-footed", and not "one-legged".
Mr. Stort knows his subject so well that I hesitate to suggest that he is wrong; but on the face of it, it would seem that he is.
Should he reply to this, I hope he will refer to me as a one-legged girl, as I hate to be called a "monopede".
To return to Mr. Stort v. Miss Roper. My right leg was amputated at the hip some time ago, and I reckon the absence of it, coupled with a very shapely left one, are my chief charms over and above being considered very good looking.
I should be more than pleased if Miss Roper's articles (not forgetting her illustrations) were designed to show us one-legged girls how best to show off our "unusual charms", and in case she should decide to do so, may I suggest that she does not forget to stress a pair of crutches, short skirts revealing our single legs, and the great importance of high-heeled shoes?
We did not ask to be cripples; but, as we are, I think that most of us are very happy with one solitary leg, and many of our men friends find this one of our chief attractions, it is up to us to dress the part and take what the gods have given us — or perhaps it would be more to the point to say to accept what the gods have taken away from us.
I, for one, would sooner have one leg than two, for I dress very well and have many more friends because of my crutches, my short and empty skirt, and my one lovely leg on its 4 inches heeled shoe.
The best of luck to Mr. Stort, and may he write many more articles for your valuable paper.
Yours truly,
One High Heel.



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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

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18 Feb 2018, 13:01

London Life June 8, 1940 p. 19
Backed Against All Comers
Dear Sir, — As many of your readers are so interested in the doings of one— legged girls, I think perhaps this letter may be of interest to them.
I lost my right leg, about 6 inches from the hip, when I was 21, as the result of a motor accident. Although I was fitted with an artificial leg soon after the amputation, I never wear it, but use a pair of crutches — and more often than not, a single crutch.
When getting about the house I seldom use a crutch at all, but just hop on my one leg — an art at which I have become quite proficient. Several of the letters that have appeared in your paper lately have discussed whether a girl who has one leg only has an added attraction in the eye is of the eyes of the male s*ex. As to that I cannot say, but I do not know that my husband says he would rather have me with one leg than any two-legged girl. It was after I had lost my leg that I met him.
Some of your readers may have seen a picture taken of a friend and myself which appeared in one of the illustrated newspapers not long ago. This friend, who, like myself, has only one leg — she has the left leg missing — and I make a practice, as we both wear the same size of shoes, of purchasing a pair of shoes between us, the right one for her and the left one for me.
May I conclude by saying that I find no difficulty in doing anything I want to as the result of having had my leg amputated, and I just enjoy life to the full. I hope that some, if not all, of the photos of myself which I am enclosing will be suitable for publication.
Yours truly,
Dorree.


London Life June 15, 1940 p. 17
Marriage A La Monopede
Dear Sir, — The letter from "C.D.B." in a recent issue of your journal interested me, for I am completing my plans for my own wedding and have very carefully gone into the details, as behaves any bride — and more particularly one who is minus one of her limbs.
My left leg is the only one remaining, as my right one was taken off 2 inches from the hip when I was 20 — three years ago.
I have chosen a short white dress for my wedding for two reasons, the chief one being that I wish to run no risk of tripping over a long one; and the second is that I have no desire to try to cover up the fact that I am one— legged. Indeed, my husband-to-be made me promise that, as he was in the first place attracted to me by the fact that one leg is missing, and that he adored me because I am a cripple, I was to be married in a frock showing off my one-legged state as much and as attractively as possible — and, of course, using my very smartest pair of crutches. I say "pair" advisedly, because neither of us will ever agree to my hopping about in an ungainly manner on only one.
I am to wear a satin shoe with a 3 inch heel, and a white silk stocking on my one remaining leg.
I have specially noted your correspondent's warning about crutch and heel traps, and I have very good reason to do so, as once when I was walking down the aisle of a church quite suddenly slipped down a hole in a ventilating grating. Fortunately the other was on terra firma; but had it been the right one (the same side as my missing leg), I should certainly have had a bad fall.
Apropos of traps, may I warn those of your readers who use crutches to be careful of those gratings frequently seen on pavements and which are covered by glass squares? Though they look innocent enough, there are often one or more of these squares missing, and the opening left is quite enough for one's crutch to falling into it and, being taken unaware, the crutch is more than likely to snap in one's efforts to extricate it as quickly a possible. It is in these kind of circumstances that a one-legged girl is so often handicapped.
I have given a good deal of thought to the question of kneeling, and I am determined to kneel rather than stand at the altar. I know it may be a little difficult, but with very slight assistance and each attendant holding a crutch, I am sure a one-legged bride needs not depart from this very important duty.
I have several pairs of delightful crutches in black and in brown, and for this occasion I have a beautiful pair of grey ones, light and perfectly shaped, and bought specially for my wedding. These I shall also use for going away.
All my crutches are of the right length to use with my high heel. Usually I affect black, as they are very smart and look well with almost anything; but on special occasions I tucked a pair of coloured ones under my armpits to match the frock I am wearing.
When I wear an ultra high heel, which I often do, I have this made on a finely built court shoe; and even with this height of heel I find I can manage quite well with my usual crutches — but not, of course, for long distances.
I am determined that my future husband shall never have any regrets that he married a one-legged wife; and so, as he loves a high heel as much as I do, and glories in seeing me swinging along on my single well dressed leg, I intend to satisfy both, him and me, even though I am destined to walk through life on two crutches and with only one leg.
I fear this is a long letter, but I hope you will be able to publish it.
Before closing, I should like to congratulate you on the very excellent photo of the one-legged girl, Olive Kent, accompanying "Zenophon's" letter.
Yours truly,
One-Legged Bride-To-Be.


London Life June 15, 1940 p. 21
Not So Shy About It
Dear Sir, — I was much interested in the letter and charming little snap of his one-legged girlfriend from "A.H." recently, and also the correspondence between Miss Joan Roper and and Mr. Wallace Stort. I think, however, that some of the sketches illustrating these articles, to say the least of it, are crude.
It is a subject that greatly interests me, and I was once fortunate enough to enjoy the friendship of a charming little amputee who was minus her left leg. Until we met, she was very shy about her amputation and looked on it as a great loss; but when she found I admired her for her one-leggedness, she soon changed her outlook and gradually got quite proud of it.
We used to go out a great deal together, and I was proud of the attention she excited as she swung along on her slender French crutches beside me. At first she used to hate people's stares, but in the end she revelled in them and would say to me: "My crutches feel so lovely; I am glad I have only one foot."
It used to be my job to keep her slender crutches well polished and her little French slipper well shined. When we had an evening alone I would sometimes take her crutches away, and she would pretend to be very helpless and call me a heartless boy for being so cruel to a poor one-legged girl, but would generally end by hopping off on her one little foot and telling me I could keep her crutches.
I used to love to see her go upstairs with a single crutch, and her girl friends used to call her "Birdie" because of her clever hopping.
She certainly was the smartest monopede I have ever seen, and I felt desolate when she had to go home to Ontario.
I quite agree with Wallace Stort that an amputee should not try to hide her condition, but should realise how very attractive she can be to some men. I do hope readers do send snaps like "A. H." of any one-legged girlfriends they may have. Unfortunately, I never had a snap of Elsie, or I would send it. As regards costume, she generally wore a short, tight-fitting skirt out of doors. I ought also to add that, on my persuasion, she was measured for a slender pin leg, and often wore it out of doors.
She would say, "Well, dear, am I to wear my little wooden leg to-night?" And if I agreed, she would hop off, and come downstairs with its rubber tip tapping on the floor and asked me if it looked smart, and would I be ashamed to be seen with a girl with a wooden leg.
Yours truly,
Admirer Of Monopedes.


London Life June 29, 1940 p. 51
A Little Bit Technical
Dear Sir, — I was much amused at "One High Heel's" objection of the word "monopede". As a matter of fact it does occur in the New English Dictionary, where it is given as an alternative to monoped (in French, of course, it would be the feminine form), where also "monopede" is listed with the same sense. The latter would be the better as being wholly Greek instead of half Latin and half Greek, as monoped is; but this form goes better with English usage, on the analogy of biped, quadruped, etc
As for the objection that monopede means "one-footed" and not "one-legged", I'm afraid that's only a quibble. Perhaps the young lady would like to be styled a "monoskelide", from a perfectly good Greek adjective meaning "standing on one leg"!
But enough of verbal gymnastics! One thing I do feel about such a letter as Miss "One High Heel's" — why didn't she enclose a photograph? Seeing, you know, is believing; and when a charming young lady with one leg drops tantalising hints as to her attractiveness to the eye, then surely she might be kind enough to go the length of giving us a visual glimpse!
I greatly appreciated the note from "A.H." and the additional photograph in your issue for May 13. It would be most gratifying if he (or, better still, the bride herself!) would send us a full account of the wedding, with a photograph or sketch of the actual costume chosen, the clearer in detail the better. I'll own I feel very curious.
Again, I should like to see a photograph (so, no doubt, would many other readers!) of the plump young lady who wrote to you in an April number under the signature of "One Leg and a Crutch"! I wonder if she could possibly be so generous as to oblige!
Incidentally, I should strongly recommend her to consider her decision to go through life on a single crutch. If she persists in so doing, even if she escapes a disastrous accident, she will probably find, before many years are passed, either that her remaining leg will "let her down" badly — I've known an over-enterprising heavyweight monopede laid up for six months with a heavily strained thigh muscle through too much hopping about indoors on one crutch — or that she will develop spine trouble that will turn her into a real cripple, perhaps for "keeps"!
The enclosed sketches and their captions (if publishable!) will make my meaning the clearer.
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life July 7, 1940 p. 22
Managing A Pram On "One"
Dear Sir, — May I write to thank "Dorree" (for her charming photos of herself on her crutches) I well remember the photo of herself and friend in an illustrated paper, and have a copy of it in my cuttings album.
Now, "Dorree", can't you also send us one of your charming friend on crutches — or, better still, a snap of the two of you on your crutches! Such a photo would be quite unique and would be much appreciated by the many readers of "London Life" who, like myself, find a one-legged girl attractive. I do not know if you have any youngsters and, if so, whether you are able to manage your pram.
There is a one-legged girl in this town who has two little ones and is often seen in the streets with her pram, which she wheels along with the aid of a single crutch.
Now, please, "Dorree", do send us more photos and write again to "London Life".
Yours truly,
An Admirer.


London Life July 7, 1940 p. 17
One Hand Free
Dear Sir, — Although this is my first letter to you I have been very interested in reading the letters which you have printed from your one— legged girl correspondents, and now I want to join their ranks. As you will see by the photographs which I am sending you, I have only one leg myself. When I was a child an accident resulted in my right leg being amputated at the hip joint.
I always use a single crutch only — this, I think, is more convenient than using two crutches, as it leaves my hand free which, of course, it would not be if I used two crutches.
Yours truly,
Hoppy.


London Life July 20, 1940 p. 16
A Bride-To-Be
Dear Sir, — I was very interested in a letter from "One-legged Wife-to-be" in your number of June 15. The correspondence on the subject of girls who have the misfortune to be monopede is naturally of interest to me, as I was condemned to spend the rest of my life on crutches when I had my left leg amputated 4 inches above the knee five years ago, when I was a s of 16.
We used to wear short skirts then, and I remember I had special permission to wear a longer one than the rest, in order that my misfortune might be well hidden. Later I had an artificial leg made for me; but owing to the discomfort of wearing it (for I think artificial legs are very ugly, painful and difficult for a woman to wear) I gave it up after about six months.
The leg used to have very ugly and heavy leather straps and steel buckles fastened to a wide leather belt round my waist and two crossed "braces" over my shoulders, which were very uncomfortable besides being unwearable in evening dress, and so noticeable under tight fitting clothes.
When I went back to crutches I had four pairs made. One was brown wood and came up under my arms for general use. One was beautifully polished black enamel with a special small black rubber pad for my armpit for evening wear. One was the "ring" type elbow crutch, and the other the elbow crutch which clips above the elbow. The latter two are more difficult to manage and are not safe.
As to dress, I still wear high-heeled court shoes, smart, tight-fitting costumes (dresses, especially short, light, summer frocks, tend to ride up with the crutches and expose one's undies). And of course every one-legged girl need gloves. (We have our own "etiquette", you know!)
I also have a pair of blue trousers which I frequently wear at home and in my own town. The left leg is fastened up like those of men cripples, of course, and although it emphasises the loss of my leg, I find when I am fumbling in my purse in a shop I can let go off my crutches and place the remainder of my maimed leg just above the handle, leaving my two hands free.
I may mention that when I lost my leg I also broke my left arm in two places. As I was learning to walk on crutches for the first time, my useless arm was securely strapped to one crutch by four wide straps.
I am, incidentally, unmarried, 21 years of age, 5 feet 6 inches in height, with (I am told) a very shapely leg and a dainty foot; brown hair, blue eyes. I use make-up, go to the cinema and theatre a lot, and, most surprising of all, I go to dances.
With my artificial leg I am quite willing to bear the discomfort entailed in order to "go round a few times" with a young man.
Most of them ask why I am lame, and hardly believe me when I tell them that the left leg they see is only metal. One boy would not believe it, and so I went home and removed my leg and spent the rest of the evening on a quiet stroll on my crutches. He is now called up in the Army, but I think he will be my husband one day.
I'm so sorry to have bored you with all this, but I thought you might be interested. Good luck all of you one-legged girls. Let's hear some more from you!
Yours truly,
Peggy.


London Life July 20, 1940 p. 2
The Limbless, Limbed And Maimed
Dear Sir, — More power to your elbow on the topic of limbless ladies and kindred thrills. The powerful attraction towards the opposite s*ex because of, and not necessarily in spite of, the absence of a limb or limbs, is perfectly rational. It takes all kinds to make a world, and a variety is the spice of life. The attraction is particularly overwhelming if the female of the specie takes pains with her appearance and personality.
Through heart-rending, the loss normally is, the sooner one acclimatises oneself to the new condition, the better for one's mind. It is, of course a question of outlook, or, rather, adaptability. Shooting a line in a exhibitionist sense is better than mopping; for he who cries, cries alone.
Further, as the fascination exists (as proved by countless letters in "London Life"), let it have the bright light of publicity, this exciting facet of his amazingly vivid world.
Some of the potentially most glamorous women are lost to us, due to a mistaken sense of uselessness and frustration — the latter not infrequently caused through small-minded relatives, misplaced sympathy, and nonsense of outworn prudery, often starting a ghastly train of thought lasting maybe a lifetime.
The mental wrench required to lift oneself aloof from this negative outlook takes character of a kind I lift my hat to. Admiration goes out in heaps to the female who notwithstanding and let it be marked, because of her one— legged or one-armed condition, rises superior to her fate.
When to deal and what card to play from her array of agile tricks, etc, to her opposite number, should her reason indicate a limbless hunch on the part of the man, must become part of her technique in building her new world. Though this predilection for lopsided ladies is frequently labelled a kink, it goes deeper than many amputees may perceive at first inspection. Nor is it the prerogative of any class of society, or country, though I must say French intelligence recognises it readily.
A very good instance of this occurred to me in Paris in 1934, when I met a charming girl who used a fascinating array of peg legs and crutches, quite in keeping with Wallace Stort's material. I remember Jeanette inviting me to inspect her "vйritable arsйnal chez moi" tickled my sense of humour immensely. What a grand pal she is!
One aspect of the attraction of a smart, handicapped woman — or should I say another facet of the jewel? — is the not often discussed pull that lamed and maimed girls have. For an engaging woman of this nature I have automatically adopted the nomenclature "Thrill". Here again, personality and full use of natural and artificial looks, wins appeal. Who can deny the guts of a girl who throws herself into social life with deliberate lack of embarrassment?
Let constraining tongues click as they may. She has stepped outside the sphere of prudish convention in order to live fully. A woman of this type chooses her accoutrements and accessories (blank balance permitting) with deliberation and fastidiousness.
No one has tackled the above issue in "London Life", as far as I remember, and it would be to have readers' opinions.
With a wisely chosen philosophy one can bear even pain; and "London Life" has done splendidly in introducing Wallace Stort's material, illustrated by Miss Stanton, as also Miss Joan Roper's articles and letters by innumerable correspondents, including "Admirer of Monopedes" (lucky dog, to have known Elsie!), "Dorree", etc
Yours truly,
Predilected.


London Life July 20, 1940 p. 17
Three Biographies
Dear Sir, — One of my closest friends, Peggy, has told me that she has recently written to your paper in the correspondence on one-legged girls. She did not mention a very remarkable friendship which has sprung up here, for she had not then had my approval. However, I think it will interest your readers, especially Olive Kent, and so I will tell you about it.
There are three of us here — Peggy, Anne, and myself (Elizabeth), and we are all one-legged cripples.
Peggy has told you her story, I know, but here are very brief details about us all.
Peggy, — Twenty-one years of age, brown hair, blue eyes, about 5 feet 5 inches tall, slim, with full-proportioned figure and a most perfectly shaped right leg. Left leg amputated 4 inches above knee when a schoolgirl, as a result of an accident in which she also smashed up one arm. Fond of cinema, dances, court shoes, and "slacks".
Anne, — Nineteen and a half years of age, black hair, brown eyes, about 5 feet 6 inches, a little bit plump, with rather full figure. (She was two years in bed and three years wheeled in a chair from the age of 11.) Right leg amputated through middle thigh after accident at school at age of 11. Doctors spent 5 years trying to save the limb, and operated seven times before finally amputating. Fond of long walks (five or six miles on a special spring-topped pair of crutches is nothing. I can't keep up — mine have no springs!) needlework, cinema, and a man whom she met as a boy in hospital, where he had his left leg amputated after a cricket accident. They adore each other and are always going on long walks. He uses crutches too, instead of his artificial limb, and everyone turns to stare in admiration of this tragic yet gallant couple. They must be unique!
Elizabeth (me). — Twenty-two years of age, dark hair, blue eyes, 5 feet 4 inches tall, slim, medium figure (34 inches bust), right leg (unfortunately!) amputated three years ago after car crash in which my foot, ankle and half my shin were severed instantly. After a month in hospital, some infection was discovered at the top of my thigh, and consequently I lost the rest of my leg in its entirety.
Not the slightest possibility of anything but crutches. Very difficult balancing when sitting upright, as there is no support. One advantage: No embarrassing outlines showing through tight or clinging or very thin dresses. Fond of swimming. (I can swim quite well, although with only one leg.)
My boyfriend either takes my crutches at the edge of the water or carries me to and from the dressing room, for I am terrified of "hopping", lest I should have an accident to my left leg and lose that too. Legless, I do not know what I would do, as both my friends swinging on crutches would loose my friendship, as they would be unable to wheel me about, and my boy friend could hardly be expected to take to himself a legless wife.
Other "likes:" Cinema, car driving (by means of special controls).
Now for Miss Olive Kent.
We three, "Olive", are all "on crutches." We are young, great pals, and (we think) pretty. We are a bit nervous of having a photo published. But we want to go on as a stage act. Anne play piano, Peggy plays violin, and Elizabeth sings.
What would you do? Please give biographical details as above. This goes for all other would-be "cripples in harmony", too. Write to "London Life" please.
With best wishes,
Yours truly,
Elizabeth


London Life July 27, 1940 p. 27
Fashions For A Monopede
Dear Sir, — I was rather astonished at your choice of a title for my long letter you were good enough to publish in a recent issue of "London Life". (How well, by the way, the sketches reproduced!) Whatever of "Light" and "Logic" it my have contained was surely intended not so much for the fair limbless themselves as for their male admirers and for those of the general public to whom the cult of the monopede may seem strange and inexplicable!
Well, here's something for the monopedes themselves, and the novice monopedes in particular, if any such chance to scan it — a suggestion for a holiday get-up for a blonde, ginger-haired girl taking things easy — recovering from her amputation, if you like — by sea or river, or enjoying the sunshine on a London park seat.
For a golden-haired girl I should suggest a plain white linen or silk frock with scarlet bow and natural coloured straw hat swathed with scarlet; scarlet sandal (either heelless or, as I have drawn it, with a reasonably high heel); and if she can afford the luxury of a special pair of crutches to go with a single outfit, a pair of lacquered scarlet with the tops covered with the same material as her frock. (The Morocco tops that would seem logical wouldn't be practicable, as some of the red would almost certainly come off on her white dress!)
Gold drop earrings, snake necklace and armlet, and a plain padlocked gold chain above her one ankle.
If sufficiently exotic-minded, she might have her finger and toe-nails gilded to match these latter; otherwise they must be carefully coloured to match the other scarlet details.
The gloves lying on the seat are merely there to be worn when walking, to save the hands from friction on the crutch handle-rests and play no special part in the decorative scheme, though a necessary accessory.
For a redhead, per contra, the frock and swathing should be pale green — apple, emerald, or olive, for choice — with bow and trimmings of the same, but several shades darker, with crutch and sandal to match. (A pair of plain black French crutches would look quite well if our monopede can't run to a special holiday pair, so long as the tops are temporarily covered with washable material to match her frock.) The remaining details remain as before, save that finger and toe-nails, if gilding be rejected, had better remain natural colour, as there is no scarlet elsewhere in the ensemble. ("Tangy" lipstick should be used — a impossible colour for nails!)
You will notice I've given the young lady glasses. After all, very large proportion of present-day flappers, including nearly all redheads, wear them regularly, and most of the rest affect sun glasses out of doors in the summer.
The blond girl of my fantasy should affect a pair with scarlet frames. (These look immensely effective against golden hair and the right sort of complexion.) For others, frames of glittering green "shell-like", carefully matched with all else.
Thus attired, by seaside or riverside, in hotel lounge, public garden or park, our monopede needs fear no lack of male admirers, I am sure, nor fail to arouse the lively — and perhaps even envious — interest of her own s*ex!
I was much interested in "Psychologist's" and Wallace Stort's letters in the April treble number. With the former I am in great part (not wholly, by any means) in agreement, but will send you my comments, if you've still the patience to read them, in a future letter.
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life July 27, 1940 p. 5
Madeline Alvarez Queried
Dear Sir, — So once again, in the current treble number, you've done me the honour of publishing one of my effusions! How well the drawings are reproduced! But I am afraid I must call attention to two misprints that obscure the sense of the sentences they occur in. In the first column, in the last line above the illustration, the word in inverted commas should be "monopode" with an "o", and, again, in the caption to the illustration below, "horizontally" should be "horizontality".
I greatly appreciated the two delightful snaps of "Dorree" in your issue for June 8, and was pleased to see her use the spring-topped type of crutches that I have always believed to be far and away the most comfortable, safest and smartest-looking for all but the youngest and slimmest monopedes. I was gratified, too at Miss "One-legged Bride-to- Be's" appreciative comments on my first letter. I wish her a brilliant and memorable wedding, to be followed by long and happy married life, as I'm sure she deserves.
Though correspondence and articles on monopedes were the first and remain the primary cause of interest I feel in "London Life", let me take the opportunity of saying that I derive great pleasure from nearly all the correspondence section, most especially such letters as appear on jewellery. (I was hugely pleased with Miss Alvarez' article, "Jewels of the Stars" in the June 8 issue, and its accompanying illustration.)
To most of your important contributors — "Mounted Mannequin", "Mabel Jennings", "Heiress", "Tressamour", "Boxing Blonde", "Modern", etc — I like to express my appreciative thanks. One subject alone among those frequently dealt with leaves me both literally and metaphorically cold — the rubber clothing craze, an excentricity that to me seems comfort-less and inartistic in the extreme.
Well, it's my intention in future to confine whatever comments and ideas I send you to the subject I have so far identified myself with, but for this once I feel I must depart from my habit and express a protest at the appalling inaccuracies in miss Alvarez' account of Ancient Greek costume in her otherwise delightful article, "Lingerie Parade", in the treble number. Almost every statement she makes is incorrect. (I happen to be lecturer on classical archaeology, and can speak from authority.)
(C.D.B.'s long epistle about the ancient Greeks and their clothing habits is not reproduced here.)
Well, sir, once again I've rambled on to inordinate length; but, even so, I feel confident that after reading my apology you will forgive me.
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life August 17, 1940 p. 16
Types Of Monopedes
Dear Sir, — It is apparent to me, from personal experience and the variety of letters received from limbless girls and admirers, that the generally used term "monopede" could be usefully defined and sub-divided. The word now seems to cover too wide a note, as the types of monopedes are many and varied.
The following definitions are based on the assumption that a monopede is a girl who has lost all or part of a leg. The physical condition is the first essential to the title coupled with a particular state of mind in regard to the lost limb. Then spiritual difference as to one monopede and another can be broadly illustrated by the divergent approach to the subject by your well known contributors, Joan Roper and Wallace Stort. In my view, the latter depicts the true monopede; the former a monopede with a biped outlook. Both these types are poles apart spiritually, though physically the same.
Therefore a "true monopede" is a girl who has lost all or part of a leg and uses as her method of progression in public one or two crutches without in any way trying to divert attention from or disguise her loss.
Having suggested the above as a basic definition, the various sub-divisions can be made as follows:
Peg-legged Monopede. — A girl who wears a peg or pin leg in place of the absent limb. In so doing she does not attempt to disguise her loss, and is entitled to be classed as a monopede.
Wooden-legged Monopede. — One who chooses to wear an artificial limb where the amputation has taken place above the knee. I say specifically above the knee, as the resultant gait on a wooden or metal leg cannot possibly conceal its artificiality either when in motion or at rest.
To cover those whose knee joint remains and whose walk with a false leg is very normal, making the loss hard to detect, another classification is needed. I would suggest "Artificial Bipede" in the case of such girls, on the grounds that the required mental outlook is generally absent in such cases.
It would be a serious omission to fail to include a very brave section of cripples — the legless, particularly the "legless monopedes" who, minus limbs, get about on crutches with the aid of a single artificial leg, or the "active legless bipedes" who move with sticks, unaided by anyone, on a pair of false legs. Though the appeal of the latter is not great, their courage is undoubted.
A final class, the "immobile legless bipedes" who live in the past, lacking the mental attributes of the true monopedes, which fact is proved conclusively by their wearing of "disguise" or "cosmetic" legs, the employment of which their own physical condition makes impossible.
As regards to one-armed girls, their special appeal on that account alone is small, though when this is accompanied by the loss of a leg it vastly increases the appeal of the latter. Where a wooden arm is worn, the wearer becomes one of a multitude of normal people and with therefore no special distinction.
The entirely armless have a vital and powerful attraction immeasurably heightened when they rise above their terrible loss to be independent of others With use of their legs and toes.
I should like to say that many of the above defined monopedes change within the confines of their own homes, shedding their artificial supports, aids and devices to become their own selves. From the point of view of the foregoing definitions it is impossible to account of private lives. The only safe way is to class a monopede by her appearance and actions in public.
I have made a list of the various types of monopedes which, in my opinion, have the greatest attraction or "thrill value".
1. Monopede
2. Legless monopede
3. Peg-legged monopede
4. Armless girl
5. Wooden-legged monopede
6. Active legless bipede
7. Artificial bipede
8. Mobile legless bipede
Before closing this letter, may I express my appreciation to all one-legged readers and admirers who have written the many interesting letters to "London Life"? Keep up the good work. Let us hear more from you, and new recruits as well. Special thanks to "Dorree," "Hoppy," "A. H." and Miss Olive Kent (via "Zenophon") for the photos — which, incidentally, make the letters ten times more interesting.
Couldn't you persuade Miss Kent to accede to the many requests for details and photos of herself, "Zenophon"? They would be greatly appreciated by all and prepare the way for her stage dйbut. I shall be there.
Yours truly,
A.M.F.


London Life August 31, 1940 p. 67
Able To Manage A Pram
Dear Sir, — Your correspondent who writes under the nom de plume of "An Admirer", and whose letter was published in your issue of July 6, asks for more photos of myself and my friend. I hope to be able later to get a photo of my friend and myself together — she with her left leg, and I with my right leg missing — and when I do, I will, of course, send it on to you. At present it is difficult, as we are no longer living in the same town and consequently do not see one another very often.
"An Admirer" asks if I am able to manage a pram. I am sending you with this letter a couple of photos, which I hope will be suitable for publication. They were taken recently and show me using one crutch and wheeling the pram. I hope they will prove interesting to him and to the many readers of "London Life" who find a one-legged girl has a special attraction.
Yours truly,
Dorree.


London Life August 31, 1940 p. 63
Found — After 7000 Miles
Dear Sir, — It took me a 7000 mile journey to discover "London Life", and this occurred only by a happy chance. The magazines the colony where I was living had become rather scarce owing to the war, and I was looking for something fresh in a book-shop.
Casually opening a copy of "London Life" containing one of Mr. Wallace Stort's remarkable articles, I knew at once that I had found what I had been searching for years.
It was fortunate that I took some back numbers of your magazine from the shop with me at the time, because when I returned the remainder had gone, and I had to wait with considerable impatience the arrival of new numbers from England.
Now I am back in this country, however, it has been possible to get some of your back numbers, so I have been able to retrieve a few of the opportunities missed in the past. Incidentally, judging from the demand, "London Life" is very popular in the colony where I have been.
You will gather from this that I am particularly interested in monopedes, whose contributions to your columns I have read with greatest eagerness. There can be no doubt that the correspondent section is unique, especially for its frank, friendly and intimate tone, which makes one feel that one knows most of the writers individually.
I do not propose to indulge in introspective theories why I should personally find monopedes so fascinating. I can only say that they seem to possess a charm and mystery, a sense of "difference", which other girls must find it difficult to rival, and must sometimes envy. The very fact that they are monopedes compel them — if life is to be worth while at all — to develop her personalities and physical attractions in a special way, which allied with a missing limb is deeply appealing to some of us. Thus I am sure that there must be many readers besides myself who follow the articles by Mr. Stort and the letters from your one-legged girl correspondents, describing their experiences, with the closest interest. The only trouble is that there are not enough of them.
Curiously, I have never yet known a one-legged girl well enough to be able to discuss the subject of common interest, but perhaps that may be a pleasure in store. Up to the presence I have had to admire at a distance. So I have tried to visualise my ideal monopede.
She should be of medium height, with fair hair and blue or grey eyes, pleasant, regular features, and a vivacious, friendly temperament. She would have a well-rounded, good figure, and a nice waist, and the leg amputated at or near the hip. She would use a pair of smart crutches, full length to the shoulders, as I agree with one or two of your correspondents that a single crutch seems to spoil the carriage and balance and appears — to me, at any rate — rather "common"; whereas a pair give a nice looking girl dignity, and even grace.
It is possible that one of your limbless girl readers fills these requirements, although, if so, I have not seen her photo within your covers. The young American lady whose picture has appeared two or three times certainly had many attractive features, and looked splendid either standing or seated.
This leads me to hope that further numbers of "London Life" will contain more photographs of monopedes, particularly in shorts, slacks or bathing costumes. And when are "Peggy," "Anne" and "Elizabeth" going to oblige?
One hopes also that a portrait gallery of monopedes who have graced the columns of "London Life" in the past could be published for the benefit of newer readers. I feel that there are several good ones I have missed. At least one reader is looking forward to more letters from monopedes, describing their everyday lives and experiences, and, of course, more articles from the pen of Mr. Stort.
I am also keenly interested in the question of eye-wear, upon which I have some very decided views, and I have read the letters of "Goggles" and "Peggy Rimless" with sympathy. But I feel that this is enough to be going on with, and perhaps I may write again later.
With all good wishes to "London Life",
Yours truly,
Autolycus.


London Life August 31, 1940 pp. 68 — 69
One Hundred Per Cent Monopede
Dear Sir, — May I first congratulate "Hopper" on her excellent first letter and at the same time express to her my thanks for its publication at a very opportune moment? It has instantly solved a problem which has caused me a great deal of thought.
In brief, I have been reading correspondence from one-legged girls to your paper, to find the "perfect monopede". Like an answer to a prayer "Hopper" enters the lists and carries of the title on her first appearance.
"Hopper" is psychologically a 100 per cent monopede in her attitude to her loss, which she neither tries to mitigate nor disguise. On the contrary she scorns to wear anything but the latest in clothes, though accentuating her one-legged condition thereby and inevitably displaying the remains of her amputated leg below her fashionable short skirt.
Moreover, with the disarticulation at the knee-joint it would be a simple matter to have an artificial leg fitted, which would be impossible to distinguish from the real one. It would be incorrect to say she resists to mitigate her loss at little discomfort, as most girls with such an amputation would do, because for "Hopper" there is no temptation. She recognises the added attraction of one-leggedness as a trump card and plays her hand accordingly.
What a thrill it must be to know a monopede of such fine spirit, one unconcerned with pretty conventions to wear slacks, cycle, and hop about crutchless in public. Truly her fiancй is to be envied.
But after arousing our interest and admiration by her letter, could my self-styled "Perfect Monopede" not be persuaded by the appeals of other one-legged girls and admirers to favour us with some photos of herself, at the same time informing us what kind of sock she wears on her abbreviated limb, and the secret of her success to keep it up?
Actually I considered Miss Olive Kent a close runner-up for the "title"; but with the lack of exact detail of her personal feelings and actions her claims could not be adequately judged.
Where letters on monopody fail to achieve continuity and sustained interest, lies with the correspondents themselves. Generally speaking we are all too selfish in our outlook, only interested in ourselves as is born out in the numbers of letters from new correspondence and novice monopedes who only write once.
Their letters and experiences are thoroughly appreciated by readers, who, unfortunately, are content to read them and piously hope they will continue to write, with the result that, receiving no encouragement from anybody, these new contributors promptly cease to write any more.
It is up to us all, old fans and new, experienced monopedes and novices in our own interests, to acknowledge letters which appreciated, to assist in others' problems, to give advice freely from our own store of experience, and to encourage, enthuse, discuss, criticise — in fact to anything but to display the awful apathy we have shown for some time past.
You, Mr. Editor, could assist. You favour us with many photos of bathing girls, film stars, etc. Why not organise a competition for our one-legged readers to select "Miss Monopede of "London Life"? I realise it would be futile to even start without a certain amount of support promised in advance, so what about it, all our one-legged readers?
Perhaps, too, Mr. Editor, you could find space to reprint some of the past contributions of Mr. Wallace Stort's for the benefit of old readers and new alike. As many of our correspondents, such as "One legged Bride-to-Be", "Happy monopede", "Peggy", "Elizabeth" and "Hopper" have fiancйs, would not "Confessions of a One-legged Bride" be particularly apt and appreciated.
Yours truly,
A.M.F.


London Life September 14, 1940 p. 16
Why Cripples?
Dear Sir, — I am reminded by a letter that you published in a recent treble number of "London Life" that, long ago, I expressed my intention of commenting on certain points raised in Wallace Stort's and "Psychologist's" letters in the issue of April 27. Well, soon after there appeared a letter from "Disciple", whose views coincide so nearly with my own that I thought the last word had been said on the mutual reactions of male human being and attractive monopede.
However, the publication of "Predilected's" quaintly worded letter, wherein unexceptional arguments are set forth in about the oddest language that it has ever been my luck to see in print, gives me thought to think that a rйsumй of a not inexperienced observer's impression of the real status of the monopede may be of interest.
In the first place, of course, everything depends, even more than on the girl's personality itself, on contacts and environment. As "Predilected" says, many a monopede who might have been a striking figure in a lively social circle, has been lost to possible admirers and condemned to a life of near misery by the folly of her own relations.
Thus my own original girlfriend, of whom I wrote on a previous occasion, though by no means beautiful, was big, athletic, naturally high-spirited, and anything but brainless, and would certainly have been a leading spirit in any ordinarily constituted society. But alas, her parents belonged to one of the narrower Nonconformist sects, and firmly believed that her daughter's loss (her leg had to come off quite unexpectedly through the sudden onset of a rare bone disease) was a direct mark of divine displeasure, not so much with the girl herself as with the family as a whole and themselves in particular! What marvel, then, that amid such influences she lapsed so far herself in religiosity that after several years of a pleasant friendship she became an impossible companion and we lost sight of one another?
But such a state of things, we'll hope, is nowadays exceptional. Save in the most cramped provincial circles, where mentalities have hardly changed at all in the last half century, I very much doubt whether any considerable proportion of one-legged girls today think of themselves or are thought of by their friends and associates, as Mr. Stort and "Psychologist" appeared to maintain, as "unfortunate cripples", and unlikely on that account to make a match with a normally minded young man.
After all, what is a "cripple?" Surely some incapacitated from taking their proper place in the active world by reason of some physical handicap or other. And that, I maintain, is just what the ordinary monopede is not! Some whose letters have appeared in "London Life" of late, is true, must be girls of the well-to-do class who need not bother whether they be self— supporting or no. But to such, social eligibly is doubly important, and none seem to be in the least doubt as to their presentability on that score!
Others — e.g., "Miss One Leg and a Crutch" and "Colleen on Crutches" (whose extraordinarily moving letters I have read in recently acquired bimonthly volumes), earn their own living, presumably in the open employment market, and seem well able to enjoy themselves normally and naturally in their spare time withal.
Think, too, of the immense range of trades and professions that lie open to the monopede to any other girl! Though undoubtedly debarred from some form of sport and exercise, the monopede can yet take her pick of quite an extensive selection. A one-legged girl can drive a motor car, and I have myself seen one riding behind a young man on a no doubt specially built tandem motor cycle, with her crutches in a carrier at the side. Dancing, too, with intelligently applied support from a partner in whom our monopede has entire confidence, is quite feasible so long as no indulged in for too long at a stretch.
Nor need she be obsessed with the idea that her choice of a husband need be confined within the minority of men — be it large or small — possessed of the "monopede complex" — i.e., a specific interest in one-legged girls as such.
If hard enough hit, the suitor will swear that he likes her best just exactly as she was when she first aroused his love and would not have her otherwise at any price! If she is a monopede, then he becomes a monopede admirer — at least as far as she is concerned — for evermore. (Unfortunately, this last process of reasoning can at times work the other way about, disastrously! I've known a middle-aged man so "peeved" at his very attractive wife losing a leg through a sudden mishap that he would not be seen in public with her on crutches! Result: An estrangement she, developing a large new circle of admiring acquaintances, attracted by the gallant way she carried off her new condition; he, lapsing further and further into misanthropy!)
Yes, I fully agree with "Predilected" that "Admirer of Monopedes" was lucky indeed to have known Elsie — and unluckier still to have lost her! Incidentally, can she be the same as the young lady whose letter appeared in the last year's August treble number over the somewhat unpleasing subscription, "Amputated Girl"? It sounds very much like it! If so, then photographs of her appeared at an earlier date still; when, and whether the number wherein they appear is obtainable, I should, Mr. Editor, very much like to know!
Yours truly,
C.D.B.



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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 25645Unread post Bazil
18 Feb 2018, 13:02

London Life September 21, 1940 pp. 20 — 21
A "London Life Girl"
Dear Sir, — You can perhaps imagine how complemented I felt when I saw my long letter put first in place amongst all the correspondence in the recent treble number.
I hope Miss Alvarez wasn't too offended. Goodness knows, I appreciate her articles enough, so long as she sticks to subjects whereon she is an undoubted authority. And — cheers! — not a single misprint from end to end, despite sundry unfamiliar words! "Chiton" and "chlamys" in particular are old stumbling blocks for printers, and a regular conspiracy exists among typewriter girls never to get either word right!
One of the topics that crops up unregularly in "London Life" is the probable outward aspect of that elusive creation of the imagination, the "typical London Life girl", should she ever materialise to wondering mortal eyes. I recall in particular "Dessurt's" fantastic vision in the February treble number, and recent portrayals by the correspondent who styles herself "Alone".
So here are two sketches of my own version of that much discussed and illustrated being. The ideal is not my own, remember — far from it — but that of a synthesis of "London Life" correspondents whose tastes I have tried to embody in the greatest possible variety.
Firstly, to suit my own taste and that of sundry other male readers, I have shown her as a monopede — not a flapper, but a well-developed girl in her late twenties. Her frock I have thought as of black satin with a scarlet belt and trimmings, but it might equally well be carried out in rubber, if so desired; and any two colours would do, if sufficiently contrasted.
The crescent and star ear ornament, earrings and pendant hint that the whole get-up might be made the basis of a fancy costume symbolising "Night," "Moonshine", or some such conception, and, of course, may be imagined as replaced by any similar pieces of jewellery — the larger and more barbaric the better.
The rimless eyeglasses I have added to please Miss "Peggy Rimless" and her sisterhood. (The fashion is not one I greatly like, my own taste running to spectacles with appropriately coloured frames.)
I am afraid I entirely disagree with "S.S.M." and "Cowboy Scarf", who maintain that glasses spoil a girl's allure completely. They don't. Nine times out of ten they add to it — if intelligently chosen in the first place!
The waist I have shown as small and the heel as high as my conscious would allow; greater extreme in either direction I think would detract from the aesthetic appeal of the whole.
Then, between the two drawings, three small differences in detail will be noted. In the one where "Miss London Life" is shown as standing still, displaying her magnificent pigtails to an admirer you will notice that I have given her bare arms and barbaric bracelets and intend that her finger nails shall be imagined as long — though not as long, please, as "Helpless Helen's!" pointed and rightly tinted or gilded.
In the other she wears a patent court shoe and a plain gold chain round her one ankle.
In the one where she is moving rather quickly, she has long black kid gloves — that I, personally think suit her better — and a high laced boot to match, with heel, etc, of the same colour as the belt.
Finally in the first drawing I have given her plain French crutches lacquered the colour of her frock or its accessories. In the second, a well-sprung black and gold pair, as would be the more suitable in view of her build and personality.
(Incidentally, I take it that "London Life Girl's" extravagantly corseted "Scarlet Runner" is to be thought as a vegetable rather than human. Otherwise, as she would obviously be totally unable to walk unaided she might advantageously be equipped with suitably designed crutches, whereon she could swing herself along with a sinuous grace entirely in keeping with the rest of her character!)
All the above, I repeat, represents not my ideal in the least (though I'll own I should be much thrilled to meet it in the flesh!), but my conception of an aggregate of other people's. Some day, perhaps, Mr. Editor, if you are not already sick and tired of the sight of my sprawly writing and amateurish drawings, I'll send you a sketch of my own ideal of the maturer "London Life" monopede.
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life September 28, 1940 pp. 64-65
That Great Secret — Rhythm
Dear Sir, — Evidence discloses an almost unanimous view agreeing to the fascination exercised by those brave and wonderful ladies who have conquered circumstances and face the world gaily and cheerfully, although legless, limping or lamed. They have found, somewhat to their surprise, a world of admiration awaiting them, due entirely to their unique condition. The extraordinary fact, which is at first so strange and incomprehensible, is that the fascination they kindle, the love they engender, and the delight they give, is because of, and not in spite of, this characteristic.
Now, what is the magnetic charm possessed by our irresistible monopede, the sweet little lady in leg-irons, those lacking inches sometimes replaced by cork, and sometimes not, that bewitching limp, whatever the cause? Charm there is, irresistible and fascinating, for all who see it. An attraction is not always easily explained, neither is beauty; but a reason there must be to account for the widespread feelings on this stimulating subject.
By process of elimination it may be found, and the first thing to rule out is pity. Pity is loathsome and abhorrent to those who at one time or another have suffered the pangs of self-anguish before adjustment has taken place.
Sympathy will do nothing to bring back Evelyn's leg. Sympathy will not release the restraining bondage of Sylvia's leg-iron, nor quiet the clank when they wear too loose. Sympathy will not extend Valerie's leg those lacking nine inches, so she can abandon out of doors that high cork heel of adjustment. Sympathy will not dispel the lame, limping gait of Vera's uncontrollable muscles. What is more to the point, sympathy does nothing to the possessors of these characteristics, save only to stab home again that they are cripples — a hard and unkind word that must not be applied to the lovely ladies of whom we speak.
Curiosity is equally repellent. To be looked upon and handled as a curio is not merely mortifying, but irritating beyond measure; for our lovely ladies are invariably conscious of their rather unique appearance. As such they wish to be taken, and not picked and examined nor investigated, as a specimen for the curious. Understanding soon comes between the charmer and the charmed, a mutual understanding which has few secrets.
The search must continue. The attraction therefore is neither pity, sympathy, nor curiosity, for the extension of these will engender the antithesis to any happy understanding or mutual regard.
How many have felt, with these lovely ladies, the desire to help, to lift and carry, to support? The pleasant sensation of being so useful, so gallant, does not really cover the attraction. Few indeed are the lame who do not prefer to manage as if there was no inconvenience at all their restricted abilities. Few indeed there are who can stifle all resentment at being "fussed over". The suspicion remains, too, of a desire for closer contact with all this coddling. Not that our lovely ladies are immune to any warm affection. Rather the reverse. There is, however, a difference between cuddling and coddling.

An attempt at analysis may disclose what we want. Let us see.
A crutch is approaching. Swinging lightly on it, Evelyn, dainty as a fairy, her beautiful single leg enhanced by a pretty shoe whose high heel beats an echo to the timing of her crutch. A picture of irresistible beauty to the eye and to the ear, as well as to the heart. Sweet one-legged siren, what is your attraction? Certainly your mode of progress.
There are others we must consider, though, so let us pass on to Sylvia, whose beautiful right leg finds for a companion another encased in gleaming irons. Her dress is consciously longer than Evelyn's, for she feels it unfitting that more of her bondage need be shown than fashion demands. Enough, too, that these encasing rods support her weaker leg and yet impart withal a grace to her gait she might never have attained. For grace there is in the regulated pace, and nothing discordant in the faint sound of metal or the rub of leather.
Now Valerie, beneath her pretty frock extends full nine inches of polished cork high heel to adjust her shorter leg. How neat and clean, and so compelling to admiring gaze. What charm can exist in yet so small a thing? Pointing her pretty toecap to the ground, she moves along with rhythmic grace, her frock swaying as to a pendulum hastening down the street. Before we see her swaying form abreast, we enjoy to the full her great attraction, and from behind we can but admire the cobbler's art that shaped such symmetry with consummate grace.
Finally to Vera, whose limping luck will not have need of any artifice or disguise. Vera merely limps, but limps in such a way that her undulating body is a poem in movement. There is nothing ugly or repulsive in her walk, her regulated pace set by the crippled member has infinite attraction, and coupled with an eye to style, she presents a very charming picture.
Here are divers "misfortune" or "unfortunates" as some would call them, yet all transformed to a great attraction. Even when Evelyn's crutch is thrust out of reach and she must hop on her pretty single leg, her irresistible attraction is not gone, rather accentuated.
Same with Sylvia, divested of her irons, for she becomes as Vera, and Valerie with her high boot off limps elegantly across the room moving with a graceful rhythm which sets the heart beating faster.
And there we have it. All these lovely ladies, legless, limping, lame, have a common appeal which strikes to the core of our very being.
Our hearts beat rhythm (though they with their grace speed up the pace). Rhythm the integral part of the order of things. From the change of the seasons to the throb of an engine. From the tempo of a dance to the waves of the ceaseless seas. Symphony of Spitfire. Mannequin or maimed, movement with rhythm.
Few move with more elegant grace than mannequins. The secret of their poise is chiefly due to the fact that they have learnt to walk. So many people shuttle hither and thither. The passage of the average lady through the street is neither elegant nor graceful. Most lurch along, quite a number strut; few, if any, pay the slightest heed to their carriage. Seldom do we find one paying half the attention to their gait as to their gowns.
Thus do our lovely ladies come into their own. Through farce of circumstance they have had to learn to walk. With few exceptions the result has been an elegant rhythmic grace, which, striking a chord in the artistic soul, awakens an appeal and fascination most irresistible.
The fundamental beauty of dancing is the beauty expressed by ordered movement in a regular tempo. Ballroom or ballet, it is just the same. Imagine the chaos which would result in the musical world were there no timing imposed upon the tune. Beauty in art as well as literature depends chiefly on balance and rhythm.
So may we set them on their high pedestals where they belong, these graceful, legless, limping and lamed lovely ladies who reveal in their elegance a rhythm which catches us up in admiration and adoration. Let us shout from the housetops, "We love you because you are legless, limping and lame, and not in spite of the fact." For in them we find elegant, graceful rhythm.
Yours truly,
Rotto.


London Life September 28, 1940 p. 65
Ripe For Another Adventure
Dear Sir, — I should like to convey to "Dorree", through the medium of your columns, my very sincere thanks for her very interesting letters and snaps. How much more convincing these letters from monopedes are when accompanied by snaps. Incidentally, "Dorree" may be interested to know that the photograph of herself and her friend which appeared in the "Daily Mirror" about two years ago remains one of my treasured possessions.
If she can find time, perhaps she would be kind enough to let us have a history of her life since she lost her right leg, illustrated by snaps and photographs.
In particular will she let us have her views on the following matters, provided she does not find them too personal:
1. When, and in what circumstances did she meet her husband and her monopede friend?
2. Why does she prefer crutches to an artificial leg?
3. Does she find that the people with whom she comes into contact pay her more than the ordinary attention because she is one-legged, cheerful and charming?
May I also mention Miss Olive Kent, the lovely one-legged dancer, whose photograph was published in your April double number, and make a similar request to her? We should all be interested to hear of her athletic accomplishments; and, if she wishes to please us especially, she could send a snap of herself attired in a bathing costume.
Finally, may I suggest to Wallace Stort that the time is ripe for another adventure of "La Belle Monopede"?
Yours truly,
Also An Admirer.


London Life September 28, 1940 p. 57
Still Getting A Kick Out Of Life
Dear Sir, — Thanks to the introduction of my one-legged friend Marjorie I am now a regular reader of "London Life", which has not only pleased me, but has given me the greatest surprise of my life, especially since I have been one-legged. We are fellow-typists in a large factory, and I should not think it often happens that there are two typists in one firm, both of whom are one-legged.
I am 22 years of age, and have been one-legged since I was 18. I have only been here for a few months, but already I have made quite a lot of friends.
To get about I use a single crutch — it is the same type as the one shown in the photo of "Dorree".
I cannot agree with the remarks of some of your readers who say that a single crutch is inclined to be rather unsightly. I think that if a one— legged girl knows how to use this type of crutch, it can soon be used as though it were part of one's body. I know mine is quite useful to me as ever my leg was, and I am quite content to cuddle it under my left armpit quite lovingly.
I am able to enjoy myself, although of course certain things are prohibited to me; but on the whole I manage to have a good time.
I manage to get a kick out of life; but since I have read "London Life" I consider that my one leg can be quite alluring.
I should like to write again, if I may, later on, and give you some of my experiences which befell me before I came to this town.
Yours truly,
One-Legged Typist.


London Life September 28, 1940 p. 52
Thanks To "Dorree"
Dear Sir, — May I just say "Thank you, Dorree, for your charming photo of yourself with your pram?" I notice you sent two snaps, but the Editor cut us down to one. Thanks also for your promise to get a snap of yourself and your friend (both on crutches, please) when you are able to.
In the meantime, "Dorree", would you not like to write again and give us some particulars of your amputation? Do you ever wear slacks? If so, a snap in them would be nice. Also any of your experiences as a one-legged girl, and if you ever hop without your crutches. Is your friend married, too?
Now, do sit down, "Dorree" and write a nice long letter about yourself and
how you like being a one-legged girl. I am sure many other readers besides myself would be deeply interested.
Yours truly
An Admirer.


London Life October 5, 1940 pp. 20 — 21
An Amazing Sufferer
Dear Sir, — As an interested reader of your excellent journal, I have been tempted to write to you regarding myself, and possibly I may be able to offer a suggestion or two of interest to you and your readers. That being so, here goes.
As to myself — like the average normal person, up to a little over three years ago, I was walking about on two good, sound, healthy legs, without the slightest suspicion or fear that one day something of a cruelly tragic nature might deprive me of the use of them; but, whereas, then, I had two, now I have none. But, even so, physically depleted as I am, I am not broken in spirit, or without hope for the future, although, at one time, I must say that I really felt myself faced with just such a possibility. But, thanks to a naturally sunny disposition, and something in the way of an inspiration, of which I will speak later, I have mastered all that, and in some measure, at least, satisfied a vanity of former years. And so, as the old song says "Are we downhearted? — No!"
Although I have seen several letters in your delightful journal from monopedes, I have never seen one from ladies deprived of both legs altogether, although there must be a considerable number scattered abroad over the country, and in other countries reached by your journal. It seemed to me therefore, that mine might be of particular interest to ladies, who, like myself, are permanently dismounted from their erstwhile nether limbs.
Perhaps you will forgive me for a moment, if I say something in regard to the ordeal through which I have passed, and in this I must say that, when my legs were taken off, they were amputated very close up, and of equal length, and the flaps seemed to be going on extremely well for a time. But, after a while, something began to go wrong with the left stump; several attempts where made to eliminate the trouble — which was gangrene, I believe but without any lasting success; so, eventually, they removed the remainder of my left leg, at the hip joint. After that, there was no more trouble. The short little stump of my right leg went on splendidly, and the surgeons said they had never known one to heal up better or make a neater finish to the job than mine had done. All the credit due to them I willingly and readily give, but, for all that, I heavily wish it had not been my leg that had been removed, to make such honours due. However, that by the way.
The other flaps, where the left leg had been, although they told me they were getting along splendidly, and had made excellent progress, was a very different matter. It was touch and go, from the first. But, it is alright now. So, I won't weary you with further details concerning that part of the business of the hewing down of one poor, hapless human from the foundations upon which she had formerly stood.
Now, what I want to say is, that, although I have a fairly long body, my legs, which were sturdy and strong were rather short, and my height was, then, only five feet two. And the vanity wish that I had entertained, at which I have already hinted at — was that I wished that I had been tall, instead of short, as I was. Oh, the vanity of human wishes. So while I was in hospital, lying on my back, with nothing else to do than think, particularly, before the stump of my left leg began to go wrong, I spent a lot of time ruminating about the possibilities of wearing artificial legs made of such proportions as to give me some additional inches in height — and it haunted me to such an extent that it almost amounted to an obsession although I never uttered a word to anyone about the thoughts that were continually occupying my mind. But, every time I dwelt upon the subject, I was confronted by the fact that my stumps would be too short for the purpose I had in mind. And then, when the stump of my left leg began to go wrong, the thought of it almost got me down, and broke my spirit. However, I conquered at last the depression that was the inevitable result of dwelling too long upon the matter in the way I had been doing.
Then, my thinking took on another turn, and I thanked all the Gods that be, that it was only one stump that had taken a wrong course, instead of both of them. So, I began thinking deeply again about the possibilities of having an artificial leg, built upon the lines I have already hinted at. And it comforted and thrilled me, in spite of the handicap of having so short a stump, and the remoteness of ever being able to use it as I had hoped to do.
But, when I read the letters of the monopede ladies in your journal, I determined that, one day I too would write to you and tell you and the readers of "London Life" something of myself and my affairs concerning my experiences in this matter. But, I determined to wait until I had satisfied myself regarding the matter I had in mind before I ventured to do so. And so, now, after having given the matter a little over a month's trial, I am able to say, that, with the specially constructed limb I now have I am able to speak with authority and experience — although I must say that the vendor of the limb was not too optimistic as to its possibilities — except upon the level, and under given conditions.
Upon no account was I to rise from a sitting position without assistance, nor to be on it for too long at a time. That latter precaution I have rigidly observed. But I must confess that I have transgressed three times in regard to the former, and nothing very startling has happened — except, that the strain of rising, not only tries the strength and quality of the limb, but it tries me too. And it is a thing I am not anxious to be doing too often; but, it was accomplished, for the simple reason that there was nobody there to help me. And I had no intention to calling upon a stranger to help me. Further, I have convinced myself that it can be done. And that means quite a lot to me. And to be able to go about, even upon an artificial leg and that, the only one you have (after over three years without any at all, or means of locomotion) — is thrilling beyond a measure, and some compensation for a misfortune that cannot be undone. And groaning about doesn't make things one whit the better — but infinitely worse.
But, I have not told you yet, that the limb that I have constructed gives an additional nine inches to my original height, and, instead of being sturdily built, as the limbs that I have lost were, it is as slim, graceful, beautiful, and majestic as any of those one reads about, as being insured for fabulous sums, and I am awfully proud it. And, as for the lure of the monopede, female, at any rate, I can heartily confirm what has already been said by other writers upon the subject, even when, as in my case, the lonely leg happens to be an artificial one. And, it is a beautiful and alluring one, if ever there was one, I can assure you. But, in spite of all that, I would, a million times rather have my real ones back again. And if wishing could do it, I would, even though this one has satisfied a vain, life time longing, as aforesaid.
I have not told you yet, that the foot of my queenly leg wears a size three shoe, or boot, as the case may be, whereas my own wore sixes or five and a halfs, to be more exact — when half sizes were to be got. I was sitting in the park the other day, when a gentleman came and sat down beside me, and began to chat as if he had known me a lifetime. During the conversation, he remarked upon my classic ankle and dainty foot and upon the elegance of my boot I was wearing — which was as high in the leg as I could wear and laced with silken laces and had a three inch Louis heel — said what a pity it was that an unkind fate had robbed me of its mate.
And he said that monopede ladies had an uncommon attraction for him, and he was going to put his hand on my knee, which he would have found was not at all soft and fleshy, as a real leg should be, but I put my own hand there instead, and he then remarked about my dainty little hands, which unlike my legs, that are no longer mine, are small and rather long, with what are known as piano fingers. He asked me then whether he could walk along with me.
But, I declined his offer, and told him that I had an appointment to keep at any moment now, remarking that my friend was rather late. Whereupon after a little desultory talk, he got up, saying that he was sorry that I had that engagement, and hoped that he would have the pleasure of meeting me again soon, when he hoped I should not be otherwise engaged. He raised his hat and made his bow, and took his departure. And a very nice man he seemed to be, so far as I could see.
A little while after that, I made a successful rising, not at all gracefully or dignified, I freely confess, by the aid of the arm and back of the seat, and, hopping along on my crutches, I felt like the queen on earth. Only those who have passed through similar ordeals and experiences can properly understand what this meant to me. It was a glorious afternoon, and I had satisfied myself, that, first, that no one knew but that my leg was real, and that there was a good deal to live for yet.
Handicapped, or not so handicapped. — I would like to suggest that all the letters from monopedes or limbless ladies that have appeared in the columns of "London Life" be published in book form, as a permanent record of the pleasure that has been brought into the lives of these people through the medium of your topping little journal. I am sure that it would be almost equal to a best seller. And it would be a record of the truth. And that is the beauty of it.
I must apologise for the length of this, my first letter and remain,
Yours still hopping,
Monopede Extraordinary.
P.S. — Also the articles, stories and photographs relating to the subject.
Dear Sir, — Since writing the enclosed letter, I have penned the following lines, which I think, possibly, you may like to use. Here they are:
I
Oh, I could sing, despite of Life's conditions. With all its cares, there's much to live for yet; So, to Life's Source, I raise my soul's petitions, And 'gainst hard fate refuse to groan or fret.
II
What once were mine, but which I have no longer, I have resigned, since they weren't mine to keep. Though much I've lost, I've grown in spirit stronger, And now refuse to murmur or to weep.
III
What might have been, were I the chosen vessel, Now, in my heart, no harbour room can find; And thoughts, with which, one time I used to wrestle, Now, come no more, to wreck my peace of mind.
IV
This life is sweet, and all the cares that vex us May be the means to further some great end And all the ills, that worry and perplex us As milestones toward the place which we wend.
V
What seems most hard, when we are called to face it, Brings compensations with the passing years, And every setback, when to source we trace it, Brings Wisdom, smiling through the mists of tears.


London Life October 5, 1990 p. 22
Definitely "No!"
Dear Sir, — I should like, with your permission, to address the following open letter to one "J.H.G.", whose disquisition on female beauty heads the correspondence section in the issue of "London Life" dated August 24th: Dear "J.H.G.", — I read with approval the opening lines of your letter, wherein you so justly condemn those readers of "London Life" who imagine (if any sincerely do, which I doubt!) that the essence of true beauty lies in such things as high heels, tight corsets, outfits in shiny rubber, etc, and so confuse the accessory with the substance, the ornament with the object adorned. But then, to my great surprise, you went on to describe a highly individualistic scheme of feminine attire that you state you would like to see displayed on your ideal girl whom you do not describe! Surely by so doing you go back on your premise, and give the impression that your chosen costume surely, but a decorative adjunct to its wearer, if you stop to think — has in itself the power of producing an effect of true beauty, regardless of the wearer!
Now, my dear "J.H.G., what in the name of all that is weird (your own words!) do you imagine to be the correct definition of the word beauty? The art of dressing in good taste? The power of evoking sentimental memories? The expression of one's own individuality? Surely, none of these! As a matter of fact, there is no such thing as absolute beauty. Beauty lies in the perfection wherewith any object illustrates in itself the standards of taste traditional among a given people at a given moment; e.g. among ourselves in our own day. Now the essence of female beauty according to Western standards — very different are Oriental or native African standards — lies in the possession of a face and figure, hair and eyes such as the cumulative experience of many generations of our ancestors had lead us to regard as typical of the highest physical perfection among our countrywomen. Clothing, jewellery, style of hairdressing, the presence or absence of certain bodily peculiarities, are all accessories, that may serve to heighten the already present beauty from the point of view of this person or that, of this period of taste or that, but accessories only, changing in their appeal as fashion changes of little avail (though many unthinking people may imagine otherwise) without that substratum of the essential that we are all agreed on.
You say nothing about your ideal girl, but something tells me she is golden-haired, blue-eyed and light-footed — the type above all others popular today. And to such a one your detailed scheme of adornment might certainly be appropriate under the right circumstances, and, doubtless in the eyes of every many people, would impart greatly enhanced charm. But others, no less conscious than you of the beauty of the girl herself, might think it better set off by the crinoline and poke bonnet of 1860, and by the piled up hair and "Gibson girl" figure of the end of the last century or by their antithesis, the "hobble" skirt and mushroom hat of 1910 or the "sunray" skirt and well-set "perm" of today, or even 7 inch heels and a 15 inch waist with a rubber cape over all! But none would agree that any of these things could produce beauty in a girl with squint, mousy ill-kept hair, a blotchy complexion and coarse, beefy hands. They would only enhance their ugliness, as comic artists and music hall comedians know so well.
So, too, with the monopede, "tapping along on her neat crutches", as you put it. Obviously the mere fact that she is one-legged and uses crutches, however expertly, doesn't by itself make her beautiful. Interesting, perhaps, but beautiful, no! Not even the most ardent monopede-admirers would claim that though in their eyes her condition may greatly enhance whatever of more conventional charm she may display.
Surely, my dear "J.H.G.", the strongest possible warning to those who confuse the trappings of beauty with actual feminine beauty itself is conveyed by the inevitable failure of all synthetic "London Life Girls". Smothered under the weight of a mass of extravagant adornments, whatever of real personal beauty the model may claim is totally obscured, only the bizarre remaining, to arouse the wonder or perhaps derision even of those to whom any one out of the embarrass de richesse of ornaments would by itself seem a valuable aid to beauty. And if anyone contradicts me I can only reply to him in your own forceful, if inelegant, terms: "nuts!", "bosh!", "rats!"
[N.B. — Do you really think your ideal costume, with its hint of extreme youthful innocence and insouciance, would suit the sophisticated "Candy?" To me it seems more appropriate to a pantomime fairy queen!]
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life October 12, 1940 pp. 24 — 251
Astounding Cases Of Lost Limbs
Girls With No Hands
Dear Sir, — I have been meaning to write to you ever since one day last January when I bought a copy of "London Life" in a bookstall in Hongkong. It contained a story that caught my eye right away, a story about an armless and one-legged girl. To me, interested as I am in any limbless girl who is pretty and well educated, it was enthralling! I never got the beginning or ending of the story — much to my regret.
I do not suppose I am the only person who falls for limbless girls, so perhaps I may interest some other readers with a short summary of some of the legless and otherwise limbless girls I have met about the world.
For a start, knowing my girl-friend will not mind (as I understand from her that names and addresses are never published) I start with my friend. She is married, but she and her husband are friends of mine. I first saw her 4 months ago, being wheeled along in a bath chair by her Chinese servant. It was cold weather and she was clad in fur coat. No crutches were evident, so I did not think anything was the matter much, until I came abreast of her, then glancing down, I saw that she had only one leg. No covering was over her limb, which was clad in silk stocking and suede shoe.
Seeing my interest, she gave a sort of half smile. She was more than pretty, her figure was perfect, her leg slim with a small foot. Her hair was red. I came to the conclusion that she had not yet learned to use crutches. Nor was I wrong as I found out afterwards. Neither was she married then, and did not get engaged until after she had been out on her crutches. In other words, she admits that if she hadn't been one-legged, she might have still been a bachelor girl.
A few weeks later I met her at the flat of a mutual friend, getting around very unsteadily on a pair of slender black crutches. I expected her to be shy, in the presence of a stranger, but to my surprise she was rather the reverse. She told me how she was looking forward to getting about on her crutches in the big hotels, etc. She had not met her future hubby then, and we got quite pally.
A month later I took her out to dinner, she being quite expert on her supports, but unsure of her balance without them. In fact, when she got up absently before her crutches were at hand once, she had to hop frantically else she would have fallen down! It was very amusing once, when, without meaning to, she gave everyone a thrill who saw it.
She was standing supporting herself by leaning with her hands on a chair— back, having got up as usual before her crutches arrived, for the purpose of showing off her one-leggedness, as she cheerfully explained, knowing very well that every male eye was on her only shapely limb, and on her short skirt, utterly empty on one side. Then her crutches arriving she swung out on them and got into a rickshaw. Rickshaws were her favourite conveyance, she explained she disliked taxis — they were hard to get in and out of.
But I think the real reason was that she knew a rickshaw emphasised her one-leggedness, as she was obliged to carry her crutches well in evidence. And a one-legged girl, in a short frock holding crutches beside her is certainly a pleasing sight. I can truthfully say that this one I have known who flaunted her incomplete body, and who was really pleased to be a cripple.
She wore the most daring evening gowns, too. One "creation" was just a brassiиre and a skirt. The skirt was hung well below her hips, cut very fully, her one-legged condition was not noticeable until she sat down when she had a trick of flattening out the empty side of the gown. Her foot was always stockingless, and in evening dress always clad in the most inadequate of sandals. She never made the least effort to ape two-legged girls at dancing, etc, being content to sit down and watch, despite her 20 years. Anyhow, she got married and went to the Indies with her husband who was a planter.
Another case I remember well I saw several times at a native cabaret patronised by Europeans at Tahiti. The girl was a singer. She had but one
leg, to which was attached a roughly-made bamboo peg-leg, which not only fitted so badly that she seemed in danger of losing it at every step, but so thin was it that it bent right over when her slender weight rested on it for a second. She had no hands, both were off at the wrist, this being not unusual in the Islands.
Native girls diving naked for pearls often get caught by giant shell fish by the hands or feet, then another girl goes down and cuts off the trapped hands or feet, to release the victim. Such had happened to this girl. When a child, I was told, a giant shell fish had taken off her leg, then years later, she had lost her hands.
She was about 19 when she was in the cabaret. She dressed the same as the other girls, simply in thin sparse grass brassiere and even sparer grass skirt that barely came to the thigh. In their last "turn" the girls sang and danced, and the cripple, I noticed, had taken off her leg (or rather, I expect one of the girls had for her) and was sitting on the floor. After the show the girls would come to the tables of patrons for a drink.
I beckoned the pretty cripple to mine. To my surprise she hopped over on her one leg. She ordered a drink for herself, and to my further surprise managed to handle the glass with the remains of her wrists without spilling a drop. Not bothering about the fact that her skirt failed to be a skirt any longer, she casually smoked my cigarettes with her toes. In case I've shocked you, it would be as well to explain that there is no false modesty amongst Island girls. They swim like seals in their birthday suits in the lagoons — often whilst fishing in the lagoons from a sailing boat, the girls would swim after the craft and hold on to it, some of them climbing in and sitting around like so many sea nymphs. One just didn't bother about them.
Sometimes the little crippled girl of the cabaret would join them, and though I would try and sail away from the others for fun, I would wait for her, for being one-legged as well as handless, she could not swim as fast as the others. But she did quite well. Despite her limblessness she appeared to be quite able to do things for herself. Her dress about the beach and "town" was the same as the other girls, a single garment, a strip of "trade" cotton, gay in colour, wrapped around her from just below her arms and falling just short of her knee. On the beach she hopped about on her one leg gaily.
In the street I often saw her hopping along supported by two friends, resting her handless arms around their shoulders. She was the only girl I saw without hands. I saw two or three without feet walking about quite casually. Never did I see crutches in evidence, if in need for support, a single staff appeared to suffice.
At a South American port, a friend who was aware of my "kink" for any girl helpless, asked if I would like to see a certain cabaret. It was a very unusual one. We went. After the usual dances by nearly nude damsels, the lights went very low, and into the cleared space in the centre of the tables, there came at a brisk run, a two-wheeled carriage.
It was drawn by two lovely half-caste girls, their dusky skins and charms emphasised by the few silver straps which formed both harness and clothing. Their tapering legs ended in slender bare feet. Arms neither had. Both, though smiling, were looking fixedly ahead... I could not understand their apparent indifference until my friend told me. Then I wondered why I did not realise it before, both were blind!
They were twins. Born without arms and sightless. I was told that they were only 17, and that this was their first public appearance and that their elder sister was their chaperon, nurse also. They were guided by reins attached to their armless shoulders, which by the way, were perfect. The driver, sitting high up on cushions, was a glorious blonde, who was legless. Having put her team through its paces, she drove amongst the tables, very skilfully, too, for neither of her blind steeds even touched a chair. If she thought she could not get through a space, she backed her team and turned through another way. During this manoeuvre, I noticed that the pony girls were decidedly nervous, often feeling about with their bare feet. Frequently the driver stopped to let somebody put a bon-bon into the mouths of the armless girls.
Having regained the cleared space again, the blonde swung herself to the floor, first having thrown some cushions down, she dropped on them. Then, supporting herself on her whip, she tottered to the ponies and climbing on a sort of step-ladder which a girl clad in a few bows of ribbon brought, she unharnessed her team. The same attendant brought in and fixed up a narrow plank of highly polished wood, and placed it about three feet from the floor. Along this each pony girl walked in turn guided by the legless girl. There were lots of other tricks of a similar nature. It was uncanny to watch.
Before I close this apology for a letter, I must tell you about an American I met about ten years ago. It was at a cocktail party. Everybody had been talking and laughing for about half an hour when somebody said, "Here's Celia and Tony, I think." We heard the lift stop and a wheelchair being stopped outside. The maid opened the door and a tall, athletic girl came in carrying a fair-haired, very good-looking (in a sort of way) young man of perhaps 23 years.
It was her husband. He was born entirely legless, yet despite this they were, I was told, ideally happy. Having greeted everybody, the girl placed her helpless burden in a chair and he, swinging on his hands, settled himself to his satisfaction. They were evidently going on to dinner somewhere, for both were in dinner dress. They both wore the usual garb as far as his trunk was concerned, but instead of trousers his trunk, from the waist down, was enclosed in a sort of black silk cummerbund.
I was told he could get about his own flat easily on his hands, though I never saw him do so.
Now Sir, I am really going to close and remain,
Yours sincerely,
Jason.


London Life October 19, 1940 pp. 22 — 23
Pro-Spectacles
Dear Sir, — You have appealed for more correspondence, so here is a letter for you, sir, and couple of sketches to go with it.
As I explained in my previous letter to you, I am one of the pro-spectacle fraternity, whose views on eye-wear are very decided. Because I am built that way, I consider that a girl does not achieve full beauty until she does wear glasses — rather an alarming view to take, admittedly, but still my view!
There is something about glares, some added brilliance and extra depth given to a girl's eyes when they are gleaming behind strong lenses, which I, and I am certain a good many other men beside, find absolutely entrancing, especially in the young, whose eyes are usually so soft and clear.
I have often wondered to myself why this is. How it is that two pieces of glass and a bit of tortoise shell can work this miracle. I sometimes think it is something to do with the optical glass; it is so finely ground, and when polished gives off such a lustre that it becomes an adornment.
I shall marry a bespectacled girl; that I have firmly decided if she will have me of course! — and it will be my constant pleasure to buy her new clothes and new glasses to go with them. I am a firm supporter of the view that a girl should match her glasses to her costume and her frocks. They then become just as much an adornment as a ring or a necklace. Of course expense is the main bugbear, and a girl is lucky to be able to afford several pairs, but the final result is always worth the trouble. The combination, for instance, of a dove-grey outfit with cherry-red frames, or flecked amber frames with a rust-coloured costume, or the American rimless style with frilled organdie the list is endless.
Considering for a moment my sketches, they are just a few of hundreds I have drawn, purely for my own benefit and pleasure.
If you think that anyone would be interested in them at all, I would like them to be published, but, of course, that is up to you.
You will notice that I have also drawn a monopede. Well, the fancy took me, and she suddenly took shape. My interest in monopedes, aroused by "London Life", has grown with the weeks and I cannot deny their fascination. Shall we call her my entry for the "Miss London Life" competition?
I expect this effusion has been marked "w.p.b." (waste paper bin), but I have enjoyed writing to you, and I do feel if this letter does help in any small way in what must be the positively herculean task of bringing out a magazine regularly in London just now, then I am more than glad. You see, "London Life" has satisfied a very definite "want" with me!
Long live "London Life".
Yours very sincerely,
Captain.


London Life October 19, 1940 p. 24
The Reality And The Imaginary
Dear Sir, — Whether my first letter addressed to you has appeared or not, I have not yet been able to ascertain, and I was away from town the last two weeks of August, and the three copies I have bought of this month have not contained it.
I was greatly interested in the splendid letter and the accompanying sketch, over the signature of "One of Each". She, like me, realises how easily our individual condition might have been worse than they are, however bad, in the deep recesses of our hearts, we may actually believe them to be. There is an old saying that things are never so bad but that they might be worse. And that is so; and it is the best way to look at it. It is a very serious matter for all those concerned, nevertheless. I rather like that idea of hers in regard to the wooden-leg kind of gadget she refers to in her letter, and I shall certainly make use of that idea when wearing my single leg if I have occasion to want to stand in one place for some time. I heartily thank "One of Each" for the idea. I had never thought of it. She is practical and to the point.
But over the initials of C.D.B. in your current issue appears a letter of an entirely different kind, wholly imaginative, and not a little extravagant in its ideas. It may have given some pleasure to the writer to draw upon his imagination then illustrating his point of view in the execution of the sketches that accompany his letter. But why should the misfortunes of our s*ex be travestied in such a manner?
I can assure C.D.B. that there is really no thrill in being the subject to such physical depletion, if he thinks there is. And, to judge by what he has written and sketched, one would certainly think he had an idea there was. I have not found it so. And I have endured enough of it to be able to speak with some authority upon the subject. What we depleted ones are interested in are the thoughts, feelings and experiences incident to the depletion that is the misfortune of these ill-fated sisters of ours to undergo, and how they face up to the repercussion of after-effects. They have plenty of water upon their wheel, as I know only too well.
If ever it happens to fall to his lot to become the subject of such depletion, he will be better able to realise what I mean and understand more fully the reasons for my protest. He will realise then, that there is neither thrill nor glamour in a condition that places such drastic limitations upon one's actions and movements. And I feel almost equally sure that he will find that the psychological effect upon the female is altogether different to that which the same condition seems to have upon the male. There are exceptional cases that might possibly be cited, I know. The female says, "Pity the poor chap;" but she is not likely to be carried away into ecstatic flights of imagination merely because a man happens to have one arm or leg, or none at all. I need say no more upon that point, I am sure. The explanation seems to be obvious.
Why he should want to depict one of his heroines with her long plaits blowing about in the wind may be a matter for some conjecture; but it certainly spoils the artistic effect of the drawing.
Long and luxuriant hair is by no means as rare as he, or others, might suppose. I know an old lady of 77 years of age with a head of hair as luxuriant as that on the young lady he has sought to depict. And there is not a grey hair in it. My own reaches well below that is left of me that is not artificial, when it is let down, and my ear-pendants are sufficiently long for me to feel them as they swing to every movement of my head. I like them long and fairly large, but I hate those so-called modern things that look like buttons stuck on. They are certainly not artistic. Now, I think I have said enough. I feel sure that C.D.B. won't misunderstand me. I know he has no wrong intentions in writing as he does.
If he sees, and sketches, his ideal lady and presents it to your readers — whether she be monopede or not, his delineation, both literally and artistic — will afford readers of "London Life" possibly as much pleasure as it does himself.
Now, thanking you in anticipation for this insertion, I beg to remain.
Monopede Extra-Ordinary


London Life October 26, 1992 p. 51
As Seen Behind Spectacles
Dear Sir, — I am sure that many of your readers were most grateful to "One of Each" for her most interesting and informative letter and the unique sketch which accompanied it. It was just the sort of letter which one welcomes from a monopede contributor, and that from "One Legged Barmaid" helped to add to the attractiveness and quality of the issue in which it appeared. "London Life" readers have, indeed, been fortunate in some of the more recent letters from Monopedes, and I feel that we ought to express our gratitude for them.
Coming to C.D.B.'s "ideal monopede", one must admit that she is a rather bizarre young lady, but it is clear from the drawings that she is intended to be studied and admired purely as a sort of "museum piece". She is rather like one of the composite portraits made from a dozen others, and it is distinctly unlikely that one would ever encounter anyone like her in reality. Still, she is certainly a tribute to C.D.B.'s lively, inventive imagination, with other products of which I hope he will favour monopede admirers.
C.D.B.'s favourable opinion about glasses leads me to the subject about which I previously promised to write. Like him, I believe that in nine cases out of ten, glasses add to a girl's allure, if they are properly chosen, and the observations of many years have confirmed that opinion. There are, perhaps, instances where the appearance of a strikingly beautiful girl might be marred by glasses, but there are not many who come into this category, and there are dozens of girls who quite definitely look more interesting, intelligent, and even more attractive in glasses.
My own preference is for rimless spectacles, although I know that some consider them "old-looking" and old-fashioned nowadays. Tortoise-shell spectacles are, of course, the most popular, but unless they are very carefully fitted, are of the precisely correct colour, and have topic lenses made to the shape of the face, I do not think they enhance a girl's appearance. They are inclined to be too heavy and give the face an "owlish" look.
Naturally the actual type of lens used enters into the question. Refracting lenses of the myopic type tend to give a girl a rather sharp look, especially where she has pointed features, and where the lenses are heavy they hide the eyes and whatever beauty they may possess. Astigmatic and magnifying lenses, on the other hand, enlarge the eyes and enhance their appeal, while conveying a sense of mystery and interest about the possessor. Lenses of about medium strength are the most satisfactory in this respect, as powerful lenses of either kind tend to distort the appearance of the eyes or give them an unnatural brilliance.
Rimless spectacles, then, are the glasses I favour, especially on a fair— haired girl, and I have been fortunate enough to see a number who have looked quite fascinating for this reason. I am looking forward to the day when a film producer will have the courage to produce a picture with a spectacled heroine. They do not seem to realise that she will have something in common with a great many among the audience, and should appeal to them for that reason.
Hoping that we shall hear soon from members of the "Eyewear Group".
Yours truly,
"Autolycus".



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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

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18 Feb 2018, 13:03

London Life October 26, 1940 p. 86
One-Legged Girl In Love Siege
On page two of the cover of this issue we present a portrait of Miss Olive Kent, the one-legged jitterbug dancer. Below is her amazing story.
Since a photograph of Olive Kent, one-legged jitterbug dancing champion of Swansea, appeared in the Press in march she has received more than 300 letters from men in the Services, and more proposals than she can remember.
Olive takes a keen interest in her 300 boyfriends and spends many hours every day writing to them, carefully following a system of indexing that would do credit to a mail-order firm.
Letters reach her regularly from most of the RAF (Royal Air Force) and army camps in England and sometimes from warships patrolling the seas; from Canada, Egypt and from many other parts of the world.
Olive willingly spends a11 her pocket money on stamps and stationary. "The daily press got me into this delightful trouble," she said.
Canadian Trip.
Olive's pictures appeared in the newspapers after she had won the Easter jitterbug champion contest in Swansea. Since then she has had little time to dance, swim, hike and cycle, all of which she does with the zeal of a person with two legs. She has a full-time job in letter-writing.
One of her correspondents is George Mock, of Ontario, a planter, who has a sister with one leg.
"He is sweet," said Olive, "and I hope to sail for Canada in the spring, war or no war. It will be a thrill to pick peaches and to see what is life like in Canada."
Olive has broadcast as a crooner, and now hopes to take part in ENSA (Entertainments National Service Association, a WWII-era UK organization) programmes.
She had one last thing to say about her pen-friends: "They're a lovely lot of boys, and I love them all. In case my letters get hold up in the post I would like to take this opportunity of wishing them all a happy Christmas and the best of luck."


London Life October 26, l94O p. 59
A Pointed Protest
Dear Sir, — If you must insert letters about monopedes could you not spare us anatomical details as in the issue of October 5th?
I know all your correspondents are pathological cases, but the sort of stuff "Monopede Extraordinary" writes should be kept to the pages of medical journals.
Yours truly,
G.F.


London Life October 26, 1940 p. 56
She Would Not Like To Be Different
Dear Sir, — I am a regular reader of "London Life", and have always found it most interesting, catering as it does for all classes of its readers, but I am more than specially interested in the Wallace Stort stories and the letters from one-legged girl readers, which is, I suppose, only natural, as I am a one-legged girl myself, and like a good many others have developed what is sometimes referred to as "the one-legged kink".
I am twenty-eight years of age and have been one-legged since I was eighteen when my right leg was amputated close to the hip, thus leaving me with a short stump as a memento of my amputated right leg.
In appearance I am very fair, being known to all my friends as "One-legged Blondie". I brush my hair well back in a rather long smooth sleeky bop, well below my shoulders, and as I seldom wear a hat my hair is very much admired. I am about the average height, but must admit to being more than ordinarily plump. I have always been on this side, but since I became one— legged, I have put on weight considerably, which, I think, is due to the fact that I am unable to get about as quickly as I used to do on two legs, being compelled to use a crutch as a means of support under my right armpit to take the place of my amputated leg. My friends, however, tell me that my soft curves, soft bust and full rounded hips, greatly enhance the appearance of my full, one-legged figure.
I, of course, only require a single stocking, which is always one of the American roll type, which I keep in a tight position with a dainty garter just above the knee. This does not necessitate my using suspenders, and so I do not wear corsets, but in their place I wear a very tight-fitting uplifting brassiиre, which is admirably fitted to the fullness of my ample bust. Owing to the shortness of my stump, I cut off practically the whole of the right leg of my wide French knickers, and sew it up at the bottom which makes a very smart frilly sock, and obviates the unsightliness of an empty portion of my underwear dangling helplessly below the end of my amputation. I also shorten and sew up the right leg of my pyjama trousers to obtain a smart effect.
Owing to the extreme fullness of my figure I have my crutch made specially for me. It is of the bow type, and sprung under the shoulder rest and at the hand grip and also at the bottom, where it fits into a pliable rubber shoe. The shoulder rest is well padded and yields comfortably to the pressure of my shoulder as my whole weight is thrown on my crutch, and the springs give me a rather fascinating feeling under my armpit as they slightly move up and down with my hopping movements. My crutch is welled in towards my body and under my stump as it takes the place of my lost limb, causing the rubber shoe to silently plop on the ground quite close to my single foot. I much prefer a single crutch, although I am aware that it has a decided tendency to uplift my shoulder, but it does undoubtedly bring into prominence my one-legged condition, which a pair of crutches would not do.
I am employed in the office of a large factory, and am the senior shorthand typist there (hence this letter being typewritten) and have a fair number of others under me. By a rather peculiar coincidence one of the girls is one-legged also, but in all other respects we are absolutely the opposite of each other. She is very dark and slim and has had her left limb amputated, leaving her with a long, tapering stump which is rounded off at the knee, whilst I am extremely fair and plump, and have only just a short stump. The only thing in which we are alike is the fact that we are both one-legged and that we both use a single crutch, although hers is one of the slender pole type. I was very interested to read her letter which she signed "One-Legged Typist", and also to read the previous week the letter from "One-legged barmaid", as it seems that she and I have a little in common in regard to our mutual condition, and that is by using the hand grip of the crutch to rest the end of our respective stumps upon when it is necessary to have both hands free. I do have to do quite a lot of filing in cabinets which causes me to stand up and I find this attitude quite useful and restful as it takes off a lot of weight, especially when I am performing my toilet and putting on my make-up in front of my mirror.
There are, of course, certain things, which I am debarred from doing, but on the other hand there are quite a lot which I can manage to do when one makes up her mind to overcome as far as possible the fact of her loss. There is, however, one thing which I find impossible to overcome, and that is to reduce my plumpness, and so I have given up the idea, although, of course, the width and roundness of my hips cause my dress to fit me extremely tight, which naturally makes very noticeable the extent of my amputated condition, as the very full rounded remainder of my lost limb unmistakably strains itself against the taut material of my dress at each hop as I lean upon my crutch, and it also has the same effect, if not more so, when I am sitting down, but my boy tells me that he finds my figure much more fascinating than if I were the ordinary type of girl. He is a very charming boy, no one could help but like him because he is considerate and kind in every way, driving me to and from the office when the weather is bad, which causes the buses to always fill up. I often wonder what he can see in me to make him so frightfully keen on taking me about all over the place.
Talking of buses, I slipped off one some time ago, and rather badly sprained my ankle, and until it got better I had to hop about on a pair of crutches, but I was jolly glad to revert back to my single crutch as soon as I possibly could; but I learned afterwards that I was not nearly so glad as my boy was.
I can honestly say that I have never had any regrets about my condition since my leg was amputated, and now, after all these years of hopping about on a single crutch I think I can truthfully say that I actually prefer my present condition as there is something about being one-legged which, although it is impossible to describe, is a very elusive though yet fascinating feeling, which of course, can only be experienced by such as myself. My one-legged colleague has told me the same thing. For my part, I should not like to be different than I am, as I infinitely prefer my one and only to the best pair of legs in the world.
Yours truly,
A One-Legged Blonde.


London Life October 26, 1940 p. 71
A Shy Monopede Seeks Advice
Dear Sir, — The first thing I must do is to apologise for using a pencil; I am very sorry, but as there is no pen or ink issued in this unit I hope you will understand, we are under canvas and miles from anywhere.
Well, sir, I just have come back off from seven days' leave, and it was very nice too; and I am pleased to say that your magazine helped me to make it so. It was the first time I have ever read it, and now it will be a long time before I read the last.
All the articles are a treat, especially the story by Wallace Stort, also the correspondence section was very good. I was particularly interested in the letter and photo of "Dorree", also that of "100 per cent Monopede".
They both have special interest for me as we have what you call a "monopede" in our family, my sister, age twenty three years. She saw the letters and photos, and before I came away I asked her if she would like to write to your paper, she did not seem keen at first, but I told her I would write if she did not.
Anyhow, I dare say I can tell your readers a thing or two on her behalf. I don't think she will mind, and if she will see this printed she may write herself later.
As I said before, she is twenty-three, and she lost her right leg at the age of fifteen through boils on the kneecap that failed to get better. She was in hospital a few months before they decided to remove it, then it was taken off midway between knee and hip, leaving a good bit. She had a difficult time for a while after, but eventually she got used to it so that she is very skilful now in getting about.
She helps mother with the housework and does most of the shopping. When out she uses two crutches, but when about the house only one or sometimes none.
After reading about "Hoppers" performance, which was a reply from someone else she was a bit sarcastic at first, but I found out that she is not yet reconciled to her loss, and suffers from what people call "inferiority complex".
She thinks that everyone is staring at her all the time, especially when getting on and off trams and buses. Up to the present she will have nothing to do with men, and she has only one special pal outside the family.
If you could print this letter, perhaps some of your one-legged girl correspondents would see it, and perhaps they might be able to write their story and tell her how they manage, especially when they are courting.
Well, sir, I must leave at that for the present, hoping to see some more photos and letters form all your monopedes, especially from "Dorree" and "Hopper".
Wishing "London Life" all success in the future.
Yours truly,
Corporal.
P.S. — I hope you will print some more Wallace Stort stories, they are very fascinating. Would you give me an estimate of what some of your back numbers would cost, those round about 1938 — 39 or early 1940 numbers?


London Life November 9, 1940 P, 1940 p. 29
Happy, Though Club-Footed
Dear Sir, — I am a friend of that charming person who wrote to you recently under the nom-de-plume of "Predilected", and am also the "Valerie" mentioned in the article by "Rotto".
The cause of my particular lameness is shortness of leg caused by a locked knee-joint, which means I cannot straighten the limb and to balance the lacking inches have to wear what is commonly known as a "high boot".
Only those of us who have to suffer this hideous form of footwear know the pangs of misery the wearing can bring. Despite the handicap to a chic appearance, I have always endeavoured to look as attractive as possible and to take pride in highly-polished boots.
In vain have I endeavoured to obtain shoes, but am told that nine inches of cork is unsuitable and would not be practical in use — the weight tending to pull the shoe off.
So, I have resigned myself to the inevitable and just laugh it off. When I am with "Rotto" he delights to see me limping around in ordinary shoes with high heels, and to give him pleasure I am happy, even though limping so deeply down to left occasions some strain of muscles and consequent pain. I love him, you see.
It is a delight to see how pretty my feet look shod daintily in size-3 shoes, and I hate, hate, hate the wedge of cork which at the curfew hour of parting I have again to don.
After some thought I am seriously considering reverting to the "outside" type of cork boot, because I loathe appearing club-footed in the "inside" style which a present disguises my limp. Or possibly, I could have a shoe made in a built-up shoe fashion, rather like the present-day beach style. Perhaps some of your readers with similar trouble will air their views in this subject.
I am happy to be one of "Predilected's" thrills, for it is great fun to know, and made me realise that my "Rotto's" adulation is utterly sincere and not just a new line of approach as I at first imagined.
Incidentally, despite my handicap (or perhaps because of it!) I have never lacked admirers, so I adjure any lame girls who are feeling sorry for themselves to "snap out of it" and make the best of the "thrill" they possess.
Thank heaven for the "Rotto's" of this unkind world, who do their best to brighten the lives of people who have been handicapped in some fashion and have to grin and bear it.
Naturally, one cannot be at one's ease in the company of anyone, feeling half ashamed of ones crippled condition, but I have been fortunate in the friendship of two men who have proved to my entire satisfaction that such a liability can be turned into an asset. Both, by the way, in addition to being delightful companions, are good-looking and smart — worthy escorts for the most critical.
It is wonderful to be adored by someone who looks upon my particular lameness as a very real attraction, so that I can afford to smile at the callous cruelty of others who attempt in a patronising way to pity me.
If I have any regrets at all, I think that they are chiefly that my little left leg (lefty!) was not amputated, for it must be thrilling to be a monopede and clothe the one surviving leg in superlative fashion, swinging along on slender crutches.
Away with envious thoughts, for I am and have a reputation for being blithe and gay, so sign myself,
Happy.


London Life November 9, 1940 p. 27
Some Recollections Of The Limbless
Dear Sir, — Thank you very much for publishing my first letter to "London Life". I must say that the issue in which it appeared was of a most varied and interesting character, and one of the best numbers I have yet had the good fortune to come across.
I was most interested to read "A.M.F.'s" contribution regarding the "Perfect Monopede", for his letter and mine had much in common and showed that our minds were running along similar lines in this respect. He made out a good case for "Hopper" being the "100 per cent Monopede", and, like himself, I wish she would favour us with a photograph, which would be most welcome. But much of the correspondence relating to monopedes seems to be devoted to imploring your monopede readers to come "into the open" with photographs and descriptions of themselves, an invitation which, it is to be regretted, they more often than not coyly refuse to accept. Still, we keep on asking them, in the hope that our persuasiveness will eventually overcome their natural modesty and reticence.
Regarding monopedes who are happily married or brides-to-be, I came across the other day an interesting piece in a book by a well-known American doctor and psychologist dealing with America's marriage problems. Discussing a number of cases of women who had never married, and the reasons, he states that in one case the woman when a girl, had fallen from a carriage, and had had a high amputation of the leg, and no suitor had ever come along. Men, the doctor asserts, are adverse marrying a woman with an artificial leg, although, he adds, that does not mean that women who have lost a limb never marry. The doctor's statement, I think, entirely justifies the attitude of the many monopedes who decline to resort to an artificial limb. The experiences recorded of most of "London Life's" monopede readers in their letters suggests that their loss of a limb has actually enhanced their chances of marriage, whereas the use of an artificial limb would have had the opposite effect.
The summary of Mr. Wallace Start's story was very acceptable. Tina is presumable the armless and one-legged girl he mentioned in the reminiscences he wrote in "London Life" earlier this year. She recalls to my mind an armless and one-legged lady whom I saw at a fair in the West country many years ago. She was actually billed as being entirely without limbs, but she had her left leg although it appeared withered and useless, and she was quite unable to walk. She had the tiny remains of her right arm and this she used in conjunction with her teeth to knit and do other things. I clearly recollect this cheerfully lady's brilliant smile, and have sometimes wondered what became of her. She was certainly not downhearted.
I also remember an armless and one-legged girl when I was living on the South Coast some ten or twelve years ago. She was born without arms from the elbows, and had had her right leg amputated through some disease. She died at the age of twelve or thirteen, but not before she had won widespread admiration for her courage, skill, and charming disposition. She belonged to the Girl Guides, and did some extremely clever little paintings with the brush between her teeth, and I treasured for a long time one which her mother gave me. When she died there was quite a lot about her in the local paper. She used an artificial leg, by the way.
I have sometimes wondered if other monopedes I have seen from time to time are readers of "London Life"; for instance, the lady I used to see in Balham pushing a pram. She had lost her right leg and used a single crutch, pushing her pram with her free hand. Another young lady whom I used to notice in the Camden Town — Kentish Town area had also lost her right leg, and used a pair of what might be double crutches, with curved wood at the bottoms instead of the usual form of tip. I have rarely seen these used.
I had intended to write on the subject of eye-wear this time, but I am afraid these remarks about my first favourite subject have taken up enough space, and I must defer the other until another occasion.
Yours sincerely,
Autolycus.
P.S. Mr. Stort's heroine in his story was a young lady who was "born with one leg". Has he ever known such a case in real life? I have never heard of one.


London Life November 16, 1940 p. 25
Plucky Women With Lost Limbs
Dear Sir, — Letters from and about monopedes have been pleasantly frequent and interesting recently.
Rather than let the burden of writing fall entirely on the shoulders of the few, it is up to us all to contribute, encouraging the hesitant to start and stimulating the infrequent writers to send more news and photographs wherever possible of their experiences and activities. Some, having written once, believe they have said all. This is far from true, for fresh incidents are always happening, the more so at the present time.
What of the limbless under war conditions? There must be many things to relate if only monopedes will write to "London Life" about them.
I am fortunate in having several one-legged friends and, through them, many more acquaintances amongst the limbless, and I can testify that life no more stands still for them than for normal people.
Kay, for instance, is an extremely good-looking blonde of 22, graceful of carriage, and blessed with a well-curved, full-proportioned youthful figure which she contrives to emphasise with up-to-the-minute fashions in clothes and heavy make-up.
A year ago she was an exceptionally attractive monopede using a single black pole crutch with a high-heeled shoe and a sheer silk stocking on her remaining leg.
At home her crutch was invariably in its stand by the door whilst Kay hopped agilely about or else donned her peg-leg if she was moving about for any length of time.
I ought to mention that her left leg had been taken off just above the knee joint, making the use of a wooden leg easy. This latter was one of the simple thin spindle open bucket affairs, padded at the base of the bucket for comfort, with two straps across the leg to tighten and hold the peg in position when the stump had been inserted. No waistbelt or shoulder braces were attached, so that it could be slipped on and tightened in place in a few seconds, without Kay having to divest herself of any garments. Indeed her knicker leg served the purpose of a stump sock when wearing the peg— leg.
She is the only monopede I have ever known to leave an artificial support in full view to visitors. She was entirely unselfconscious and when going out would casually detach the pin-leg, put it in the crutch stand, adjust her pole crutch under her arm and swing out. When returning she would just as unconcernedly replace the crutch and slip on her wooden peg to the visible discomfort of the strangers present.
Since those days Kay's right leg was afflicted similarly to her missing left and she was compelled an operation in which she lost her remaining member in about the same place — just above the knee. She has amazing spirit, for, far from getting her down, she was soon boasting of her unique twin stumps.
For many months she was wheeled about in a carriage with rugs over her to disguise her loss. It wasn't long before these were dispensed with.
Kay usually dressed in a brightly coloured chiffon frock which hung several inches empty over the edge off the carriage seat, revealing her double loss in no uncertain manner. She was in no way abashed at the astonished stares cast her way, but sat proudly erect, smiling happily, her hair — almost platinum blonde — perfectly in place in a long pageboy roll at the base of her neck, heavily made up and rouged, with absurdly long earrings resting on her shoulders. She was amazing, and knew it.
An occasional disturbance of her skirt and the partial emptiness of it confirmed that the remains of her nether limbs were almost equal, finishing some inches from the edge of the seat.
Incidentally, Kay, new to her limbless state, is helpless above floor level. Once there however, with a corduroy bag pulled over her lower extremity to protect her dress, she gets about well by swinging her trunk between her hands. Stairs are negotiated sitting back towards them one at a time.
It is strange to think that I have known her as a monopede, then with a peg leg, and now legless. Now she has only got an extremely shapely pair of lightweight metal artificial legs. As she has only had them a few weeks she can as yet do no more than fix them on and wait for someone to lift her about. Her mobility is nil and she can only stand when erected. Her ambition is to get about without any aid, which should be possible with her amputations. Till she gets the feel of them amusing incidents keep happening.
New shoes have to be bought, as it is years since she owned a pair, and consequently they are a tight fit. There is no give in her new feet and none in the shoes, so if Kay puts her legs on (which she insists on doing herself) without putting the shoes on first, both have to come off again to be dressed.
When the legs were first delivered Kay insisted on trying them on immediately. I shall never forget the comical appearance of her being held upright with two shiny silver legs extending beneath her skirt and finishing in two leather-covered solid feet. Of course stockings were put on but, being too sheer, allowed the aluminium to glint through, so now the order of dressing for the metal limbs is nude shade lisle foundation with silk on top.
Kay's will-power is such that before long she will be as independent legless as she was as a monopede.
Yours truly,
A.M.F.


London Life November 23, 1940 p. 26 — 27
The Glad To Be So Type
Dear Sir, — I am expressively sorry that my drawings that you published in your issue for September 21 were interpreted by your delightful and heroic correspondent "Monopede Extraordinary", as caricatures of herself in particular and travesties of the one-legged fair in general. Surely, if anyone was meant to be satirised, it was those readers of "London Life", myself included, whose taste for the unusual and far-fetched finds voice in its pages! I hope she'll listen kindly to my expression of the deepest regret.
But though she says she hopes I do not misunderstand her, she makes it apparent that on more than one point. She misunderstands me! Nowhere in the letter in question — or, in any other of mine that you have been good enough to publish — have I stated that monopedes in general derive any special thrill or pleasure out of their condition alone. Surely she is confusing me with Mr. Wallace Stort, whose writings, though fiction, are based upon a substantial foundation of experience and with the many one— legged correspondents whose letters you have published during the last year or so. A noteworthy instance is "Miss Hopper", whose letter appeared in an August issue, and who on the strength of it was acclaimed by one writer as the perfect "100 per cent monopede". She undoubtedly give that impression!
My own attitude all along has been that of the male admirer, concerned only with his own reactions and those of his kind, to the object of his regard, and the letter in question most certainly contained no allusion at all to the psychology of the monopede herself.
All the same, there can be no doubt whatever but that a certain proportion of monopedes do derive a very considerable greater amount of satisfaction out of the fact that they are monopedes than anyone might suppose, and much enjoyment out of the undoubted attraction they possess for the opposite s*ex that guarantees them attraction far greater than they would otherwise get as normal girls. That I can testify from personal contacts.
"Monopede Extraordinary" must remember, too, the great difference between her own circumstances and those as such one-legged girls as Mr. Stort's "Julie", "Admirer of Monopedes", "Elsie", "Margaret and Doris" (the two delightful one-legged girls of last year's Summer Annual), or the girl described by "Jason" in your last week's issue. After all, her own long and terrible experience has little in common with that of the irresponsible flapper who loses a leg in a sudden catastrophe and after a few weeks on her back made much of as never before by sympathetic and curious friends and acquaintances, derives a world of thrills and excitement from her dйbut on crutches, with everybody eager to help her to make her new limitations as little burdensome as possible and with the thoughtlessness and adaptability of youth to serve her as the most potent allies of all.
Then, as she develops mental balance and leaves behind the stage that most novice monopedes pass through of occasional black moments when they feel an irresistible urge to throw away their crutches and run, and, failing that, to scream the ceiling down, she may all unconsciously build up an entirely satisfactory philosophy of life. Of such stuff, and of girls one-legged since childhood who know no other state, is the "glad-to-be-so" type of monopede made.
Well, two other points before I close. Our charming friend wonders why I gave my model long pigtails blown by the wind. Surely, because I wanted her to embody as many as possible of the themes "London Life" readers enthuse over, and over none are more rhapsodies and ink poured fourth than over the worship of long hair! Whether long-haired ladies or long-hair lovers are common or rare in real life I've no mean of knowing — oddly enough, I've never met an example of either — but I should judge they must be fairly numerous if only because of the very large amount of space they take up in proportion to other "London Life" correspondents' contributions.
That my drawing is spoilt by the presence of pigtails — well, I'll own I'm not good at drawing hair. But the attitude I showed the figure in was determined by their presence! Actually its effect was in part spoilt by the fact it was printed a little bit askew; tilted a few degrees further forward, the balance would be restored and a decided improvement made.
Finally, "Monopede Extraordinary" thinks that I enjoy drawing and letter writing. Quite wrong again! To me, devoid as I am of any kind of technical training or equipment, drawing is sheer weariness of the flesh! But the nature of the subject I teach has made me realise that the value of illustrations as a means of conveying ideas of things material. The roughest diagrammatic sketch, on blackboard or scrap of paper, gives a better idea of the plan of a building, the shape of a vase, the structure of an ornament motif, the folds of a garment, than any amount of verbiage. Hence my habit of illustrating letters, confirmed by "London Life" readers' frequently voiced requests for "more readers' sketches".
Nor do I enjoy letter writing. Far from it! But I do enjoy other correspondents' effusions, and as I am firmly convinced that he who would read letters should also write them, I act accordingly. And, Mr. Editor, you must think that somebody or other enjoys reading them when they are written, or you wouldn't print them!
I'm afraid the drawing I hinted at of my ideal monopede will never see daylight, for our lady friend to criticise! I look being forestalled by others better qualified than myself.
"Captain's" delightful sketch in your current number goes a long way towards my aim; the only details wherein his ideal differs from mine are the extreme slimness of his model and the fact that he gives her only a single crutch.
(By the way, isn't "Captain" "Autolycus" again under another name? If so, why, oh why change pseudonyms? It's so confusing!)
Anyhow I hope he sends us more of his offers. I hope, too, that at least one monopede figures in "Artist in Curves" gallery of "London Life" girls, if it ever really materialises.
But there! I must stop! Again I have transgressed all due limits of length, and my fingers are aching quite a bit.
P.S. — I was interested to read "S.S.M.'s" note on the lady wearing a combined scarf and turban. The other day I saw a pretty, dark girl (I think she was Irish) otherwise dressed all in black, but with a piece of deep scarlet georgette, several yards long, elaborately twisted round her head like a turban (I think the folds must have been stitched into position) with the end hanging down in front of her right shoulder as far as her waist, then back across both shoulders, scarf wise, the end hanging down in front as far as her knees. The effect was unforgettable.
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life November 30, 1940 E30, 1990 p. 76
Details And Suggestions Wanted
Dear Sir, — In the August treble number your new correspondent, "Autolycus", in whom I sense a kindred spirit, gives an account of his ideal monopede, and, in doing so, describes mine also. Now, for some time past I have toyed with the idea of trying my hand at a sketch, or rather, two sketches, of my vision, but one difficulty so far confronts me: clear— cut and vivid conception though I have of the girl I cannot for the life of me decide how to array her.
Accordingly, I wonder if some interested reader could oblige with suggestions for summer and winter ensembles for a one-legged girl, aged about twenty-five to twenty-eight, about five feet six inches tall, well proportioned and full chested, but with neat waist and hips, oval face and beautifully waved golden (or black hair, and blue (or brown) eyes, shapely leg and not too tiny foot, as I visualise her.
Such being my deal, you can now guess how greatly interested I was in the letter in your current number from the incredibly plucky and original— minded lady who so justifiably signs herself "Monopede Extraordinary". Especially was I struck with the tolerant way she wrote of the misguided "gentlemen" whose amazing lack of finesse led him to take the liberty of laying his hand on her knee, and that too at the first meeting where she had apparently given him scant encouragement. Surely it would have been enough for a would-be worshipper to explain that a deep-seated interest in monopedes as such, based, it may be, on past or present acquaintance with other ladies in her condition, might, as a common bond, justify his venturing to address her in all humility. Lucky for him that she didn't serve him as a much-admired monopede friend of my own told me she would treat any unwelcome swain — lure him to the brink of the Serpentine at its deepest part, trip him up and push him under with her crutches till he drowned.
But, honestly, long and self-revelatory though our delightful friend's letter is, yet how many details she leaves out that would be illuminating to admirers of her kind. Thus, she gives us no clue to her age (I take she's more than a flapper) or her appearance, save her stature, proportions, and that she likes a fairly high heel. Beautiful, I feel very sure she must be, but is she fair or dark, long-haired or shingled? Is her taste in dress simple or recherchй? Are her ears pierced and her face well maquillaged? What pattern of crutches does she find preferable for her promenades? Without these details (let her forgive me if I seem impertinent!) it is hard to form the mental image one would desire.
Then, as having important bearing on the development of her outlook, what trouble necessitated such drastic surgical treatment in the first place? Not a sudden catastrophe — motor or air crash, I imagine. Bone or blood disease, long threatening, a of sudden onset? It would be enlightening to know. Anyhow, I hope we hear from her again.
And so to my next point. How many monopedes write to "London Life" once and once only? Then, after rousing the interest of readers like myself, often to a high pitch, and sometimes tantalising them with promises of further revelations and, perhaps photographs, lapses into silence again for good! How often we should like to hear more of the fortunes of such-and-such a charming correspondent, e.g. is Miss "One-legged Bride-to-be" (the nearest approach of all, I should imagine, to my ideal) married yet, and, if so, how did her wedding go off? Surely photos of the bridal group appeared in the local press; why not, then, go further and submit one for the delectation of "London Life" readers? Are the delightful "Two One-legged Girls" of last year's Summer annual still enjoying a tomboy existence, or have they ere now found their level as one-legged housewives, or at least, engaged girls? How are the musical aspirations of "Peggy," "Anne" and "Elizabeth?" Miss Olive Kent is not, I surmise, herself a "London Life reader, and that the photograph and brief biographical note submitted by a correspondent must have been obtained from a press agency. Otherwise, she could hardly be so stony-hearted as to ignore the appeals of so many admirers.
Again, all the monopede correspondents of "London Life" appear to be young, at most well under thirty. Is there no older lady, already one-legged in the early years of the present century, willing to favour us with reminiscences of her experiences, and perhaps embarrassments, on crutches in the days of voluminous coats and billowing petticoats, when such a mode of locomotion must have been adventurous indeed? By way of inspiration, I enclose a sketch of my girlfriend of thirty years ago, as I often used to meet her on summer evenings crossing one of the open spaces near her home.
Note, the costume depicted consists of a thin serge skirt, light fawn or cream-coloured; imitation silk blouse with lace collar (supported under the ears by whalebone; or wire uprights), yoke and sleeves; plain patent— leather or calf shoe, hair elaborately coiled about a wire substructure; and hat of plaited straw or stiff muslin on a wire foundation, lavishly trimmed with artificial flowers and ribbon and secured by long rapier-like pins that were not infrequently employed as weapons of offence on the first day of the January and July sales.
Make-up of any kind, even powder, was then absolutely unknown in middle— class provincial circles, and young ladies went about only too often with noses calculated to outshine the Eddystone Lighthouse!
I remain, hoping that my requests meet with sympathetic ears,
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life November 30, 1940 p. 51
Peg-Legs Are Better Than None
Dear Sir, — Although I cannot claim to be an old reader of your wonderful paper, I am a very interested one. From the informative wording I have ventured to put as a heading to my letter, you will at once jump to the conclusion that I am not as other women are — or ought to be; but I don't thank God for that, nor consider myself the luckiest of mortals because of it. I look upon it as a particularly nasty and bitter sort of medicine that a particularly inexorable destiny, or fate, decreed that I should take; and I take it because I can do no other.
So much for the preamble. Now for the hard facts of the case, and they are, to put it in as few words as possible, that for the past year and nine months I have been, more often than not, called Peggy, which isn't my name, simply because, as a preference to being wheeled about in a bath chair, I prefer to go about on peg legs, because I have no other. And I have got a job, which I can do very well, because it doesn't require a person to be very clever to be able to do it. It is since I have been in this job that I have been tabbed with this name of Peggy, which I heartily dislike. Of course, it is the consciousness of the reason why they do it that makes me resent it. However, that by the way.
I have noticed, in a back number that I have, that one reader, at any rate, said that she, in common with most of your one-legged lady readers, used a peg-leg for getting about the house, but she couldn't think of wearing one out of doors. How would she do if she was me, and had to go about on two, because she had no other, and found it expedient to do so? Possibly, she would put her aversion on one side, and brave the worst, the same as I had to do. And if people stared at her, or passed rude remarks while she was passing through the streets, she would perhaps become wise enough to take no notice, and let them, putting their conduct down to their ignorance, which is the proper thing to do.
But my peg-legs are not of the crude clumsy shape that the generality of the people associate with the usual order of peg-legs. They are neat, slim, and comely, and a credit to whoever it was that fashioned them; and they are a light wood colour, and reasonably light in weight, and comfortable to wear.
There is a little incident connected with the last day of the first fortnight of wearing them. I had learned to walk on them previously, up and down the passage of my home; and by the time I had been going about on them the previous thirteen days of that fortnight, I had been improving steadily, and thought myself fairly competent, and, in consequence, had possibly got a little careless. Cocksureness is a cussedly dangerous thing. And this is how I paid for it. I had been home at the lunch hour, while I was at home it had come on a sharp shower, whereas it had been sunny and warm. My dress was of bright daffodil satin, and trimmed with green, to correspond with the daffodil leaf. I had on my raincoat and carried my umbrella as usual, and was going along the main road near the shops for the shelter of the building. All of a sudden and almost before I could realise what was happening, I had stepped on a grating over a basement area of a factory, under which some of the shops are, and my wooden legs had slipped through the bars the whole extent of their slenderness, and I was held a prisoner, and the bottom of my dress and my nice frilly undies got bedraggled in the mess that was on the grating.
Boys laughed and girls tittered, probably as much at the exposure of my underwear as at the grotesqueness of my unpleasant predicament. I was a prisoner and the cynosure of all eyes. However, a lady and a gentleman passing lifted me out of my durance vile, and in a few moments I was able to go on my way, little the worse for the adventure, except that I greatly mourned the messing of the bottom of my dress and my frillies. My umbrella was retrieved, with great care, by the gentleman. I had fortunately secured all the wires at the top before starting out, as the rain had then nearly ceased.
Thanking my deliverers, and readjusting my apparel, I went on my way rejoicing, more or less, that the happenings of that day had not been worse. I quite realised that the pegs that had been supporting me might very easily have broken off, or at least, one of them, under the sudden strain that had been put upon them, and I trembled to contemplate what might have been the result. But they had stood the ordeal pretty well, and bore me safely to my destination, little worse for the adventure, except for the polish that got scraped off in their encounter with the grating. The bottoms of my dress and my undies suffered the worst, and I was more particularly annoyed at this as I had planned to go out with two of the girls in the office that evening, and had put them on for that purpose. But I found, when they got dry that the stain showed but slightly, but that the scraping of the polish of my peg-legs showed up brazenly.
You will get a laugh at my expense, I suppose, out of this experience, but, as I shall not be there to see there is no need for me to worry about that. So, reaffirming my claim with which I head this letter, that peg-legs are better than none, because experience is the best guide to the formation of an opinion, and I think I can claim to be in an excellent position to know. Wishing your excellent paper the best of everything that is best for it and its readers.
Yours truly,
Peggy.


London Life December 7, 1440 p. 28
Not Worried In One
Dear Sir, — I have been a reader of "London Life" for a good number of years, most them being in China and other parts of the East. I notice lately that there are quite a number of correspondents asking for photos of one-legged girl readers. I happen to be a one-legged girl reader, and I enclose a snap which I have cut from a group, and I hope it will be suitable for publication. It is the only snap I have of myself as I am not over keen on being photographed with my one leg and crutch, so you must do the best you can with it.
I am twenty-nine years of age and my leg was amputated in Hongkong seven years ago. The amputation of my leg was the result of a taxi collision. As you can see, I am minus my left leg, which is amputated at the knee. I am wearing shorts in the snap. Like most one-legged girls I am using a single crutch, but about the house or garden I never think of using one at all. I am remarkably slim and I attribute this to the fact of my crutchless one— legged agility.
When I get indoors I put my crutch away in a cupboard in the hall with several others, and forget about them. That is why no crutch is to be seen in the snap. I am science mistress at a well-known girls' school at present evacuated to the country. I have made quite a number of friends and have been invited out quite a lot. Everyone, especially strangers, seems to wonder at my crutchless ease, but some are a bit dubious at times as to whether I might fall and injure myself.
I am afraid I am going to find my stocking bill rather expensive now owing to the tax, but I must keep my so obvious one-legged condition smart and attractive. I am quite indifferent and unconcerned by the fact that I am one-legged and have to use a crutch, and never regard myself as ever having been anything different than a one-legged girl, which is perhaps as well. I am quite happy hopping on one of each, and who knows but what I inwardly do not prefer it — at any rate, I'm not grumbling. I do hope the snap and letter will be acceptable.
Yours truly,
One-Legged Equanimity.


1941

London Life January 11, 1941 p. 42
I Have Perhaps Bored You
Dear Sir, — As an old regular reader of "London Life", I have been delighted to read letters from your monopede (what a horrid word!) readers, as I myself have been one-legged since I was twelve; and I was especially interested in Miss Singleton's letter, and delightful sketches.
Her case is very similar to mine, for I have lost a leg at twelve after having had a crushed foot and leg in a bus crash. I was first on my back, then in a wheelchair, then on crutches, and then back on my back again, before they finally amputated my right leg — roughly four inches above the knee, leaving me with a slightly longer stump than Miss Singleton's.
Realising that I was to be "caged" between crutches for the whole of the rest of my life did not upset me much then as I was, as a cripple, somewhat spoiled by my parents, by my girlfriends at school, and most particularly by a doting brother who carried me everywhere about the house in his arms before I had learned to take long, "fearless" strides on my crutches.
Miss Singleton has made the same neat job of her slacks as I have done, and I see she also has a job like myself.
There are some little points of interest which perhaps either Miss Singleton or any other young lady cripple who has a leg missing would like to hear and in some cases answer.
First, I have always found that my stump got so cold, unprotected beneath my open French knickers (only reaching about an inch below the crotch of the legs) that I have always worn a little woolly stump-sock and suspended this on to my belt (when younger) and now on to my corset.
Second. Do you think any of your one-legged lady readers can tell me how to stop light summery frocks and costume jackets from "bunching" and riding up with the use of under-arm crutches? I got myself a special pair of cleverly-designed elbow crutches with rings and no pads, but I find I cannot let go with both my hands both at once as I have no rest. Is there any other cure as I have had to go back to the under-arm ones?
Thirdly, is the wearing of slacks really "showing off my maimed state", as I have heard passers-by say? I have a grand boss, who lets me wear them in the office for greater ease and mobility.
Fourth point — introducing the special "Cripples' Etiquette", only applicable to us "one-legs". Is it distasteful to two-legged people if I "cross" my "legs" — that is to say, lay my stump remains of my leg across my right thigh? People stare at this, which is just one of my habits.
I am looking forward to an explanation/and/or advice from "Miss S.", "Margaret and Doris", "Dorree", or "C.D.B." and all the others. Please help me.
I enclose three sketches, which I do hope will reproduce. One shows me in the office (I rest myself by wedging my stump in my crutch), one shows the design, roughly of my special ring elbow crutches, and the last shows how to go out to meet my boyfriend.
He insists on my extremely long (for I am five feet nine inches in height), slim, black, under-arm French-type crutches, and hates my elbow ones nearly as much as he does the unsightly, unbalanced dragging limp of an artificial leg.
I can, of course, move faster on crutches, than on a metal leg, but I find it tiring to shop and carry parcels and get on and off buses etc, on crutches. Besides which, my French crutches hurt under the arm after a while, and frighten me when they slip a little on wet pavements.
I am terrified of losing my left leg, as well, as I should never have the will-power of "Kay" to live after a second operation (I'm only twenty— three).
But I have perhaps bored you.
Would you like to hear more about me later — when I'm settled in my "evacuation" home — Mr. Editor?
Yours truly,
M.D.


London Life January 11, 1941 p. 40
A Strange Apology For Wearing Slacks
Dear Sir, — Until lately, one of my pet aversions was women in trousers, but now, as if to emphasise and impress one's mind, most unmistakably, with the tricks that fate is wont on us to play, I am wearing them myself.
And the trousers I am wearing are of thick crimson velvet, fleecy lined, underneath which I wear a pair of silk knickers and a warm flannel undershirt. You may laugh at this, but I belief in safety first, and warmth too. I was never a lover of the inclemency of the autumn and winter seasons, and belief it is better to keep the cold out than to let it get you down and be laid up by it.
I used to rail about women in trousers, and think them fast cats and brazen huzzies, as I often heard men call them in the street, or referring to them in company. I certainly agreed with them then, and I don't deny the truth of their implication now. I am just one more, added to their number, that is all. I don't attempt to defend them in any way whatever — nor even myself.
The only thing I have to say in regard to my paradoxical positions is that I have wooden legs, and it struck me I might, with some show of extenuating circumstances, be not unwilling to hide, somewhat, even at the expense of the sinking of a principle. This is all I have to say in defence of the decision I came to when adopting — for the winter season, at any rate — the garment which I abhorred to see on women, as much as I should hate to see skirts on men. I had no wish to trespass upon the domain of garments that should be sacred and privy to men; but I could see no harm in me adopting them for the set purpose of hiding as much of the timber as possible of my wooden extensions. It was thus that I determined to brave the criticisms of the world at large — or of that part of it wherein I am wont to go stumping about in the performance of my vocational and domestic duties.
I chose crimson, because it is a favourite colour with me, and also because the only women I have ever seen who looked possible in trousers wore those of that colour, and one of them, who was in velvet, I could not help admire. So now, for the rest of the winter season, I shall be seen wearing these slacks, as they are pleased to call them, hiding my peg legs to within about an inch of the ground, and I rather like the experiment, even though I don't approve the slacks. They serve their purpose, anyway.
So now, thanking you in anticipation for this insertion of my apology for wearing slacks, and wishing you ever success, I am,
Yours truly,
Wooden-Legged But Light-Hearted
P.S. — However, in spite of all this, and the temporary setting aside of a pet aversion, for a specific purpose, however, paradoxical it may appear at the moment; as soon as I can get fixed up with the tip-top, aristocratic legs I have in view, and which I shall have as soon as circumstances will permit, and on which I shall stand, at least three inches taller than I do now, upon the most elegant of elegant legs and feet, taking the cue from another lady, that appeared in an issue a few weeks ago, and whose lead I am anxious to follow as soon as I can see my way clear to reach out towards the materialisation of my dreams, I shall revert to the garment I have temporarily laid aside. Then it will be away with the slacks, which, having served a good and useful purpose, will be abandoned for the truly feminine garments I absolutely love and adore. The slacks that served me well through a time of necessity, while stumping about on my wooden legs, will meet the fate that is usually meted out to human beings who have passed a certain age and can no longer, with profit, serve the purpose of those for whom they have hitherto toiled, to their profit and satisfaction. Such is the way of the world, with these wooden legs included. Then, upon dainty feet and beautiful legs, I shall proudly storm forth in forgiveable pride about this mundane earth, the dead past all behind me, but light-hearted.



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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 25647Unread post Bazil
18 Feb 2018, 13:04

London Life January 25, 1941 p. 43
Some Day He May Write It
Dear Sir, — So once again, in the current double number (December 28th), your correspondent "G.F." has treated you to a grumble, this time in surpassing bad taste! It says much for your forbearance and your faith in your readers' forbearance that you printed it all, and did not merely include your own justly scathing comment in one of your occasional columns of "Answers to Correspondents" — such correspondents, presumably, as you think will be merely boring! I wonder what G.F.'s" own particular fad may be, and whether there are readers of "London Life" on whom it reacts as violently as monopody apparently does on him (I suppose he's a "he" the tone of his letter doesn't suggest the gentler s*ex!). If so, let's hope for their own sakes they don't express their feelings quite so tactlessly!
Any-old-how, recent letters from and about monopedes (so far from "hopping out of your pages"!) have been gratifying, numerous and interesting, even though few of them call for special comment. How invincible Miss "Peggy's" sense of humour, when she can see the funny side of the appalling mishap she detailed so drolly in the leading letter in your "Christmas annual!"
Then again, in the same issue, Miss "Singleton's" three delightful sketches of herself illustrate most vividly the immense superiority of drawings as vehicles for information over small-scale photographs as ordinarily reproduced. How much more intimately one feels one knows this young lady than any recent subjects of readers' photographs, even photographs as admirable as those of "Erica and Eve" and Mrs. "House-hound"! How tantalising the decidedly fuliginous photograph of that charming girls, "Miss One-legged Equanimity"! So little justice does it to her lively personality that I have amused myself by re-drawing it as best I might.
Finally in the current number, "Monopede Admirer" has my heartiest felicitations! He certainly makes one realise the verisimilitude of the opening scene of Mr. Stort's story of "Anthony Drew", quite the most remarkable description of the effect of sudden strong emotion on the susceptible young human male that I remember reading, and that certainly squares with certain experiences of my own, similar, though, of course less utterly devastating, whereof I may some day feel like writing.
Till then, perhaps, Mr. Editor.
Yours truly,
"C.D.B."


London Life February 1, 1941 p. 48
"Candy" Exonerated
Dear Sir, — So once again your misguided correspondent "G.E." is on the warpath, this time with poor "Candy" for an objective! Has the man no other interest than attacking someone or other? I wonder what he is in everyday life. Is he a Bolshevik agitator? Or an official of an "anti-vivisection" society? If either, it would account for his liking for anonymity, against the day when he may feel like vamoosing with corporate funds! Well, let's hope Miss "M.D.'s" very revelatory sketches (in your current number) give him the creeps fairly and properly.
These sketches, by the way, bear out very admirably my statement in my previous letter re the superiority of sketches over photographs as conveyors of the feeling of intimacy. For all their roughness of finish, what an insight they give us into their author's personality! The accompanying letter, too, was of the highest interest to monopede lovers. Inter alia, Miss "M.D." enquires upon a curious point of etiquette; surely if it's to her comfort to sit with her shortened thigh across over the other, then it's up to her to get on with it, with this one reservation in a large mixed gathering, including persons not well known to her, there may very likely be somebody or other of the ultra-squeamish sort, to whom the sight of anything tending to over-emphasise a curtailed limb may be distressing; at such time she will certainly be well advised to refrain from such a practise (so, too, from the useful but inartistic habit of standing with her stump resting on the hand-rest of her crutch) but certainly not at any other! Such mannerisms, in the eyes of her more intimate circle, will surely all add to her vividness of personality!
I notice, too, that she says she finds over-long walking on her French crutches tiring to her arm-pits. Has she tried the spring-topped variety I have already more than once advocated in letters you have published? I'm sure that she would lend them an improvement. They can even be had with pneumatic tops that blow up like a bicycle tyre, and give in to the slightest pressure. I'm almost sure a big girl like her (five feet nine inches spells some weight, however slim she may be!) would find it worth her while to try them, and that her boyfriend would regard them with approval.
Incidentally, to revert to my starting theme, I think it's high time a halt was called to the various detractors of Miss "Candidus", who very surely, to the vast majority of "London Life" readers, seems by far the most human and the most independent minded of all the regular contributors. Though less uproariously funny than in the days when she used to participate in wild pranks with her sister and cousin — her tale of her experiences as a hospital probationer; of a troupe with a "Cancan" troupe to Algiers; of her voluntary incarceration in a "bug-house" and uncomfortable escape thence, were among the very funniest effusions I have ever read in my life — she is always highly entertaining; no small thing in these depressing days! It's for her alleged untruthfulness — well, were either the fair s*ex or the journalistic fraternity ever particularly renowned for veracity? No, we must take her as we find her and, if we don't like her contributions, should leave them unread. Those who want fact, sober and unadorned, would be better advised to leave "London Life" alone and seek it in such a periodical as say, the "Banker's Record!"
(N.B. — A little while ago I was sitting out of doors one summer evening, and on the other end of the seat saw a young lady of grimly purposeful mien knitting a woolly jumper with such concentrated fury that the iron seat vibrated to the play of her elbows, and every now and again pausing with a sniff of exasperation, to turn over the page of a magazine open on her knee — a copy, I was interested to note, of that last named!)
Finally, Mr. Editor, let me express my regret at the destruction of your publishing house, particularly if, as I understand, your files and stocks of back numbers went with it. Yet, out of evil, good may come! It must have been fearfully inconvenient to produce such a publication as "London Life" from two places at once! Let us hope you and yours flourish exceedingly in your new quarters under the world-renowned shadow of Messrs. Huntley and Palmer, but that no member of your staff shares the fate of the hero of a popular song of my youth (I still hum it in blither moments!) who fell for the charms of a girl employйe of the above mentioned famous firm, only to find his married life to be made impossible by her incurable habit of eating biscuits in the bed!
I remain, Mr. Editor,
Yours truly,
"C.D.B."


London Life February 1, 1941 p. 32
How To Be Happy With Only One
Dear Sir. — I should like to reply to a correspondent signing herself "Happy", whose letter appeared in a recent issue, and also to "M.D.", if you will allow me to use your columns.
"Happy" has stated that she suffers from a shortness of leg owing to a locked knee joint and that she would like to wear a shoe instead of a "high boot" to compensate her nine inches of short leg, but that she had been told that such would be impracticable, as the weight would pull the shoe off.
Now this is all nonsense, and I think I am in a position to give her help and advice, for I myself have a short left leg, but the shortage is twelve inches, and my leg is stiff at the knee, as is also the instep, with my foot pointing to the ground. I am, therefore, particularly interested in this form of lameness. I am unable to wear a "high shoe", but have to use crutches, as for all practical purposes my leg is useless and I am thus almost as much a one-legged girl as one who has undergone an amputation, and so I can, and do, experience the thrill of swinging along on a pair of dainty crutches and wearing four-inch high heeled shoes the one tapping along rhythmically on the pavement and the other showing arrestingly from beneath my short skirt; my heel, being new and shining owing to its lack of contact with the ground, looking particularly attractive. I am sure "Happy" would love the great thrill of feeling a pair of crutches under her arms just as much as I do. But to return to my subject.
A few years ago I was sitting in a London park when a girl who was wearing a very thick cork shoe sat beside me, and of course we exchanged views on the unsightliness of a "high boot" as opposed to the smart "high shoe" she was wearing.
She told me her shortness of leg was about seven to eight inches, and that her shoe was very light, the sole being all cork, and that she had several of these in different colours to match her various frocks. At the time she was wearing navy blue, and so her shoes were also blue. The shoe on the lame foot was a walking one and the cork was cut away, so to speak, in the centre; the height required being both at the heel and toe. There was a metal support running up inside the cork heel, along the ordinary sole and then down the cork toe, which kept the whole of the cork structure firm and safe. The appearance from the back was that of a very high-heeled shoe, which in fact it was, but with a higher toe as well. She said it was most comfortable to wear and the weight was negligible and that she had built it to her own specification, as she just hated an ugly "high boot", and there is no doubt that whereas she had been an object of pity, she was now happy in the knowledge that her new kind of shoe was very attractive and made up in a huge degree for her shortness of leg. I very strongly advice "Happy" to have one made, and if she does so it will be very gratifying if she will write to your paper to tell us what she thinks of her new acquisition.
Now, sir, with reference to "M.D.:" second point is fairly easily explained, for her "bunching" of her frocks is caused by the fact that they are a little too tight under the arms and probably a little too loose round the bust. If she rectifies these small points I think she will find that the tendency one's frocks have to "ride" up when one uses crutches will become almost nil. On no account should she use elbow crutches, for they are a great strain on the arms and are nothing like as smart in appearance as the under-arm type, with it is easy to stop and rest, alternatively allowing the full weight to be taken by one's crutches when resting the one and only leg and then resting the armpits by taking the weight on the hand grip. The fourth point mentioned — that of crossing the "legs" — is by no means distasteful to other people. In her case "M.D." has sufficient stump left to rest it over her one leg, and also to rest her remaining leg over her stump. I fail to understand, however, what she means by saying that she lays her stump over her right thigh, when she has lost her right leg! There is no one so attractive as a tall girl on her under-arm crutches, and so I can well understand that her boyfriend far and away prefers her on her slim French crutches to either of the abominations — an artificial leg or her elbow crutches. If she pads the armrests sufficiently she will find very little tiredness unless she walks long distances and if she takes reasonable care in the use of her crutches she will not slip, providing they are properly shod at the tips with good sound rubber.
Judging by your correspondent's third sketch, she appears to me most attractive and a girl many men would fall for, for she is tall and has the undoubted "pull" of being the possessor of only one leg.
I, for one, would love to hear again from her after she is settled in her new home, and I feel sure many of your male readers would wish to read further letters from her.
Yours truly,
Advice To 'happy' And M.D.


London Life February 8, 1941 p. 33
Happily Married Monopede
Dear Sir, — Last time I wrote you it was under the nom de plume "One-legged Bride To-be", and now that I am a "One-legged Bride That Is", your readers, — especially "C.D.B.", for he has said so — may like to hear once again.
Well, all went off according to plan, and no unforeseen accident happened, and the foreseen ones were studiously avoided.
I was congratulated by many on my appearance, and my short dress showing up my one-legged state was considered admirably suitable for a crippled girl as I am. I felt complete confidence and no inferior complex as I slowly swung up the aisle on my beautiful grey crutches. It was the first time I had used them, and so they were spotless and glistening in the fitful sunlight. My escort walked slightly behind and to the side of me, and I was conscious of all eyes being on me — first on my face and general appearance, and then they dropped to the crutches supporting me. At the altar my two attendants each unobtrusively took one of my crutches and I knelt without difficulty, each bridesmaid placing a crutch under its respective armpit as I later rose.
I did not walk out of the church in the accustomed manner, on the arm of the groom, as it meant temporarily discarding one of my crutches and thereby affecting an ungainly gait, as is always so with those who use only one.
My going-away costume was of grey, and with my one high-heeled shoe and the same grey crutches, the tout ensemble was voted ideal. I have shown "C.D.B.'s" letter to my husband, and I should like to thank him for his kind words.
In suggesting a padlocked gold chain on the one remaining ankle, perhaps "C.D.B." is thinking that, being padlocked, that one ankle may be saved a similar fate to that of its companion!
My husband has bought me a lovely four-and-a-half-inch high-heeled patent leather shoe, which I am getting about famously on, and he tells me that as it is normal to buy a pair, but I have use for only one, he will get me a second one but that it will have a five inch heel. I am a little dubious as to whether I can manage such a high heel on my one leg, but I intend to master it as it is hardly possible to refuse such a request when all the thrills of being one-legged, using wonderful crutches, and all the rest that make life for us monopedes so happy and worthwhile are put in the background when a man gather up his one-legged wife in his arms and tells her that though he would have been attracted by her in any case, it was her having only one leg that brought out his love, and that he married her not in spite of her affliction, but because of it. How often has he told me that he would far sooner have me as I am, with just one leg, than if I had two. What a man and what a husband!
I must tell you that I often have to be out in the black-out and so I have had my crutches treated with luminous paint, and I do commend this to all one-legged girls as a very excellent safety precaution, for even those of us who have complete confidence in and on our crutches are in constant danger on a dark night.
Though this is a long letter, may I add a word as to your excellent picture of that charming Miss Olive Kent which was reproduced in one of your issues, for I noticed that for charging by the crutch she was holding, it indicated that this young lady had her right leg amputated, whereas I think I am correct in saying that it was the left leg that is missing.
Yours truly,
One-Legged Bride That Is.


London Life February 22, 1941, p. 46
A Cheerful Monopede Story
Dear Sir, — I have been a reader of "London Life" for some time, and I have been immensely pleased to see just lately how well to the front (if I may use the expression) the one-legged brigade have been, of which I am happy to be a member, as I am also one-legged.
I lost my parents when I was quite a kiddie, and was looked after by a maiden aunt, the only relative I had. I went away to school until I was eighteen, and not long afterwards I was involved in a motor accident in which the lower part of my right leg was badly smashed, which I learned afterwards had to be amputated through the knee joint by the method of disarticulation. I made a good recovery from this type of amputation, which does not necessitate sawing through any bones, and was soon hopping about between a pair of armpit crutches. A little while later, preferring to have one hand free, I commenced to hop on my one leg with just a single crutch cuddled under my right armpit, and within six months of becoming one-legged I was able to hop on and off buses and up and down stairs, as easily as though I had only had one leg all my life. About this time I lost my aunt, who left me a nice little income, which, when augmented to the income I was already receiving from the damages which were awarded me for the loss of my leg, made me quite independent of having to follow a profession, for which I was very glad.
I am now twenty-five years old, and have therefore been one-legged nearly seven years, just long enough, I am sure you will agree, to know what it is like to hop on just one leg supported by a single crutch, and also long enough, I am glad to say to have a preference to be one-legged! Perhaps this may sound rather peculiar to some of your readers, but I can honestly assure you that it is quite true, and I am not in the slightest degree ashamed or afraid to put in writing this earnest satisfaction to be as I am, a one-legged girl. I am supposed to be rather good-looking, being very dark, with jet black hair, which is brushed well below my shoulders. I prefer the natural, though rather accentuated pallor of my cheeks to any make-up, but I do apply, and rather generously too, a very vivid purple lipstick on my lips, and also I colour my fingernails, and my five toenails in the same shade. I am about average height, a little on the plump side, with a few soft, warm curves and a rather full bust, which, with my one and only leg gives my figure a rather "cuddly" appearance. I find my stocking bill a rather expensive item, as I am obliged to have one of every pair cut and shaped to fit my shortened limb, which tapers right down to the knee, where it is rounded off, but it is impossible for me to wholly conceal it, as the present fashion of short skirts reveals a couple of inches slightly swaying with my one-legged hopping movements.
My single crutch is of the slender pole type, and has a pneumatic shoulder— rest which is very yielding to the soft flesh under my armpit, and I experience a decided buoyant feeling as I hop along which is caused by my pneumatic shoulder-rest and the rubber shoe at the bottom of the pole of my crutch.
I soon began to observe how my one-legged condition appealed to the opposite s*ex, and it has no infrequent occurrence for me to be stopped by complete strangers in the street, who would ask me to go out with them. Although I have always been a one-legged sport, I naturally did not accept these promiscuous invitations, which I knew were only offered owing to my rather intriguing one-legged condition.
There is undoubtedly something which it is difficult to describe about being one-legged.
Firstly: There is the feeling of physical incompleteness, which takes some getting accustomed to, especially when quite innocently you endeavour to demand from your crippled limb the same functions as you do from your single leg. I find this a most peculiar and yet pleasurable feeling, until the realisation of my inability to do so is made manifest.
Secondly: There is without doubt the attention paid to me when I hop on a bus. All the men glance down at my obvious one-legged condition and seem to vie with each other in offering me their seat, and then when I sit down, my palpably noticeable one-leggedness makes me the cynosure of all eyes.
Then thirdly: There is what I might call the reactionary feelings of yourself to your one leg and stump condition, and this I should say depends quite a lot on one's temperament. As I have already stated, I have discovered that I actually prefer having one leg, because I know that the fact of my being one-legged is so very apparent that it immediately dispels any doubt which may exist in the minds of anyone who takes the look properly at it, which I can assure you everyone seems to do.
I am shortly getting married to a very charming man who is twenty years my senior. He has just given me a beautiful sable coat, loose-fitting, with side slit pockets, so that I can manipulate my crutch with my hand inside the pocket, and underneath the coat, so that the shoulder-rest of my crutch is under my armpit inside the coat, which prevents it from rubbing the sable, not only under my arm but also at the side, as my stump is slightly inclined to rub against the pole of my crutch, as I hop one-leggedly along. My fiancй worships the very ground my one leg steps on, and if anyone in this world is as enamoured of a girl with one leg as he is of me, then they have a very passionate wooer. I, on my part, am absolutely in love with him as much as any girl could be, one-legged or otherwise.
I should like to write again and tell you about my wedding, which is going to be a grand one, but personally I wish it were not; and if you would like a photograph of me which I had taken quite recently, I should love to send it to you for publication. The reason I do not send it now is because it naturally reveals my palpably one-legged condition, and I did not know whether this would be suitable to your wishes. Perhaps you will add an editorial note to this letter, which I hope you will publish.
Yours truly,
Definitely One-Legged.


London Life March 1, 1941 p. 40
Still Thankful To Providence
Dear Sir. — The interest of your readers in monopedes seems to have reached a pitch never before attained, and the only thing needed to complete matters, is another story by Wallace Stort. Personally, I should like to have another adventure of that old favourite, "La Belle Monopede". Your old readers would like to read of the beautiful one-legged dancer again, and I am sure she would be a favourite with new readers, the more so because of the recent mention of a real life monopede dancer in the person of Miss Olive Kent. Miss Stanton could give us some of her illustrations, but may I say that charming as they are in most respects, yet in two they are open to improvement. Sometimes she had made it impossible for us to see that the ladies she draws are, in fact, one-legged. The shapely single leg should never be hidden under a long skirt. Again, I have never seen crutches of the type she draws, but perhaps the neat crutches of "Dorree" will prove an inspiration. While on this subject, I should like to congratulate "Captain" on his excellent sketch of a monopede.
In the pre-war days there used to be quite a few one-legged girls in the district at the back of Oxford Street, where t gown trade. I knew of at least six who were to be seen regularly in that vicinity, and of these, three used a pair of crutches, two single crutches and one a peg leg. Two of the girls were quite exceptional in point of beauty of face and figure, and possibly some description may be of interest.
The first was a fascinating brunette, aged about twenty. She invariably used a single crutch held very close to the body, and I found her easy swing most alluring. Other men, besides myself, betrayed their interest in her and from my frequent and close observation of her, I am sure that she was quite well aware of their interest and did not find it displeasing. However, she gave us no encouragement, probably she was engaged as the ring or her engagement finger indicated.
The other girl was also a brunette, equally attractive, although a little older, but in her case the left leg was missing, and she always used a pair of crutches. I first saw her walking in front of me in the late Spring before the War. From the back it was clear that she was fashionably dressed and her single shapely leg was well displayed beneath her short skirt. I learned afterwards that my backward glances aroused her suspicions, which were confirmed when I stopped at the corner and I looked straight at her.
Later we became acquainted and good friends. I took her out on quite a few occasions, but her missing leg was not mentioned although I was acutely conscious of it, and she was aware of the fact. One Saturday afternoon, I met her to assist her with some shopping and to my surprise and horror she was wearing an artificial leg. I am afraid that while my companion was in a very cheerful mood, I was silent and disgruntled. At the Corner House at tea she banished my depression by telling me that she seldom wore the artificial leg, and had only worn it then to see my reaction. She also promised me to discard it before coming out that evening, and to resume her crutches.
For the purpose of this letter I shall call my friend (and soon she may be more), "Olive". Olive lost her leg when she was only four years old and consequently she simply does not know what it is like to have two legs. At school she did most things normal girls do, although debarred from the more strenuous sports. She learned to become equally at home on one or two crutches, but she will not use one crutch only, if she has to walk any distance.
By the time she was seventeen, she was quite a young lady, and no doubt a most attractive one. She became used to the attention she inevitably attracted, and felt a little sad only when she heard people remark what a pity it was that such a pretty girl should be a cripple. At this age, at her own wish, she obtained employment in the gown industry, and her cheerful personality soon made her a great favourite with her colleagues.
Her new job was noteworthy, inasmuch as her immediate chief was herself one-legged. Olive was puzzled by the fact that her chief wore an artificial leg, except on Wednesdays and Saturdays when she used crutches. Eventually however, she discovered that on these days the chief always met a gentleman friend.
She changed her job again, and in this firm worked with another one-legged girl, named Edna, with whom Olive became very friendly. Edna was an attractive blonde, fairly plump, but not too much so, who had lost her right leg at the same point as Olive had lost her left. They used to catch the same homeward bus, and with Edna using one crutch and Olive two, they attracted much attention. Edna was about two years older than Olive.
Not all their admirers were content to remain at a distance, and both girls had several flirtations, some serious, at any rate on the part of the men. In fact, their association was eventually ended when Edna left work to marry one of her admirers.
This concludes my short account of Olive's life, but I ought not to conclude without mentioning two other matters. First, I noticed that when I was in public with her, Olive always kept her shortened limb concealed as much as possible, although, of course, she could not prevent its plumpness outlining itself beneath her dress particularly when sitting. She has the habit, mentioned by other of your one-legged lady correspondents, of resting her stump on the hand grip of her crutch, of frequently pressing it with her hand, and of raising it and placing it across her remaining leg, as though she were a normal girl crossing her legs.
The other matter concerns the stories of Wallace Stort, and the correspondence on the subject which appears in your journal, of which Olive is a constant reader. She agrees that Wallace Stort knows all there is to know about the limbless complex, but she feels doubtful about limblessness other than one-leggedness. Again, she does not altogether agree with him on the subject of crutches. Wallace Stort rather likes his heroines to dispense with crutches altogether, or alternatively to use elbow crutches. Olive's experience has been that her friends have always liked her to have her crutches about, and at some time or another, most have asked for a photograph, and invariably asked that she should be taken on crutches. Elbow crutches again were much disliked, and Olive herself prefers the armpit type particularly for negotiating stairs. She very much dislikes elbow crutches for climbing on and off buses.
I really must conclude now, but perhaps I may sum up by saying that Olive is perfectly content. Even she, however, cannot deny that she owes something to that Providence, which, while it deprived her of a leg, gave her such charming looks, and such a sublime figure.
Yours truly,
Disciple.


London Life March 29, 1941 p. 32
Helplessness And Dependence
Dear Sir, — I was very interested in your "Definitely One-legged" correspondent, and as I am a one-legged girl myself, I can quite understand her feelings. I have been on a single leg since sixteen years of age, and don't regret it one little bit. I well remember my despair at waking up after my operation and finding my leg was off above the knee, and also the shock when I first dressed, to see my single foot beneath my skirt, and felt that at any cost I must have my other foot.
Fortunately I had a dear friend who used to come to see me in the nursing home, and to my surprise begged me not to have an artificial leg. One day he arrived with a pair of the slenderest French crutches, which he had had made for me, and on these I practised hard about the room and corridors, until one afternoon when he arrived I slipped them under my arms and hopped to the door to meet him.
I shall not forget the look of delighted surprise with which he greeted me, nor the thrill of hopping along the garden of the home by his side. I promised him there and then, to keep to my crutches, but soon discovered that he also liked a pin leg, so I was measured for one, and send you a snap wearing it. You will notice that I have on a sports shoe, but when on my crutches I generally wear a smart high-heeled shoe, and in the evenings I have two or three with four-inch heels. I think the fascination of being one-legged is partly from the attention it attracts.
Like some of your other monopedes, I occasionally wear smart slacks, and you may guess my empty trouser leg pinned tightly over my short stump does not half arouse some stares. Of course Fred loves it all, and is never so pleased as when I am swinging along on my crutches in a crowded street or trotting along by his side on my wooden leg. I think, however, that we like it best when my empty skirt swings idly about, and people stare with pitying glances at me. I have tried to analyse why we are both so potty over what most people think a great misfortune. I think it is my helplessness and dependence on him that appeals to Fred, and probably the pity and attention that appeals to me.
However that may be, we certainly get a good deal of fun and pleasure out of it. Sometimes in the garden we have great games.
Fred will take my crutches away and I will hop and crawl after him to get them back, generally ending in his picking me up in his arms and kissing his "little hopper", as he calls me.
Like other of your monopedes, I can now get about the house without either crutches or pin leg, and often discard them in the evenings, when I put on a smart evening frock with skirt. In conclusion, I wish other one-legged girls, like "Doreen", would send their photos.
Yours truly
Single Shoe Only.


London Life March 29, l941 pp. 30 — 31
A One-Legged Crooner's Story
Dear Sir, — I have been a reader of "London Life" for some time and hope you can publish my letter in your columns.
I am a West Indian girl, having been born in Jamaica, where my father was a native government official. I was sent to this country when I was in my early teens to finish my education after an elementary period at an English school on the island.
After leaving school I went to Paris to study singing, which I intended to take up as a career. I remained there five years, but unfortunately, just before my term expired, I lost both my parents. I returned to this country, having decided to remain here, as my parents had left me an income sufficient to live on, and I had no relatives left at all. I found a nice little flat and advertised for a coloured girl as maid, as I did not think that an English girl would care to be employed by a black girl. I was successful in obtaining a maid very quickly, and I soon got settled down.
I soon obtained an engagement to sing at a well-known night club, where I became very popular. I was then twenty-two years old. It was whilst being driven one night from the club, by a very charming English girl, who was also engaged at the club that we met with rather a nasty accident. She fortunately escaped unhurt, but my right leg was very badly smashed, so that it was necessary to amputate it at once. My leg was taken off above the knee, leaving me with a short stump exactly eight inches in length. I, however, made a good and quick recovery from the amputation of my leg, and after a few days the doctor told me, with a laugh, that mine was the first black leg he had ever amputated. I, of course, felt ever so funny and strange when I was allowed to get up and had to realise that I now only had one leg to stand on. I am afraid I acted strangely, as I kept endeavouring to put to the ground my lost limb which, needless for me to say, was an absolute physical impossibility.
I was later measured for a pair of crutches and the nurse adjusted them under my somewhat fleshy armpits. Then I commenced to hop on my one leg with their support. In due course I was allowed to go home, and under the guidance of my maid, I started to use a single crutch, and within a few months of becoming one-legged I was able to hop on and off buses and up and down stairs, just as though I had been a cripple always. I found that my one-legged figure came in for quite a lot of attention from people, which I suppose was because I am black. At any rate I have never met a black one yet.
I am now thirty-two years of age, and have hopped on my crutch now for ten years. I have also developed a very full figure since I commenced my singing career, more especially since I became one-legged. You will realise this when I tell you that my bust measurement is fifty-four inches, and I weigh fourteen stone and that with just one leg! I naturally did not expect when I became one-legged that I should get any further engagements, but one evening when I hopped into the club, everyone shouted a wonderful greeting to me, and all were most sympathetic. They all raised their glasses and gave a toast: "Here's to one-legged Jos!" As I realised that my condition seemed to make me more popular than ever, I approached the manager and asked him if could give me an engagement. The outcome of this was that I fixed up a contract as crooner to the club's orchestra. For several years I used to hop for several times a night to the microphone and croon through it to the diners and dancers. I should not be surprised if some of your readers have heard me on numerous occasions. One night when I had finished my last call, the manager brought a very charming Englishman up to me and said: "Jos, this gentleman is very desirous of making your acquaintance."
"It is very kind indeed of you", I said, when introduced, "to desire to think about one-legged me", showing my white teeth between my red lips as I laughed.
He asked me to dine with him, and after an excellent dinner he drove me home. We quickly became good friends, in spite of our difference in colour. He is a very wealthy man, about fifteen years my senior, and after taking me about for some time (he arranged my release from my crooning engagement), we got married. I have been married over four years, and they have been simply wonderful years, too!
Like several of your one-legged girl readers, I also wear a circlet, but mine is a platinum one, with a lovely jewelled clasp in the form of a pair of crutches, which my hubby bought for me when we were in Paris on our honeymoon. It gleams most beautifully against my black skin.
I have met some very charming white people, and I am glad to say that I have never noticed the slightest difference in their cordiality to me; in fact, I sometimes wonder whether my unusual one-legged appearance does not appeal to them. I have no regrets at marrying a white man, and I know that my hubby has none at marrying a one-legged black wife.
I sincerely hope that my colour will not stop you from publishing my letter, as I have been asked by several of my English friends who read "London Life" to write to you. Wishing "London Life" the success it so richly deserves.
Yours truly,
One-Legged Crooner.


London Life April 5, 1941 p. 23
A Continual Source Of Irritation
Dear Sir, — Like "Air Gunner", it is a continual source of irritation to me to find so much of the fad and fancy in your paper. By all means keep the correspondence supplement for this kind of debate if you wish, but for heaven's sake keep it from straggling all over the rest of the paper. It is very great galling for a reader to try and get into a yarn and then to come up against the fad and fancy! As it is, I think we got too much of "Bottier" and Beth Hilliad, who drool on eternally about their fetishes, and in the articles one reads there is far too much dwelling on the psychological side of life.
Surely it is not too much to ask that the literary section of the paper be kept free of faddist topics? Let us have some goad stories and articles in that, and keep the fads and fancies confined to the back half of the paper, where those readers who are not interested need not read them unless they choose to.
I enjoyed the story about the Caribs, and I enjoy "Old London" etc. This is real reading matter and raises "London Life" beyond the "silly magazine" stage. As "Air Gunner" truly says, not all your readers are interested in the fads and fancies, though I know that a few stalwarts would believe that they were. If there is one fad above another that irritates me, is that of the so called "charm of the monopede". I would be the last man on Earth to deny these unlucky girls the sympathy and chivalry that their sad state merits, and for this reason I am sorry to see how eagerly they lap up the tales of their one-legged admirers about their "unique charm". To my mind, in attempting to glamorise and draw attention to their sad state, they are both undignified and far too credulous. The majority of healthy minded males prefer their women to be whole, and if amputation is a sad necessity, then they much prefer the amputated one to do all possible to conceal, and not reveal, her deficiency.
I can't understand the type of mind that will, by letters to your columns, endeavour to lead a one-legged girl on to make an exhibition of herself, and I think that it is time that the attention of maimed girls was drawn to the fact that monopede admirers are very much in the minority, and so their extravagant views should not be catered for.
No doubt this letter is too frank for your columns, so I can hardly expect it to be printed, nevertheless I can no longer go on reading "London Life without telling you frankly what a continual source of irritation the fad and fancy debates are to me.
Yours truly,
Honesty


London Life April 12, 1941 p. 30
A Rambler's Reminiscences
Dear Sir — I was greatly interested in "Disciple's" letter (of whom, or what, by the by, does he claim to be a disciple) in your current number (March 1st). By the "back of Oxford Street" I presume he means the area between Oxford Street itself and Mortimer/Goodge Street, where, to my knowledge also, many monopedes and other physically handicapped girls are employed in gown and millinery workrooms, the offices of the big shops, etc. There, like him, I have made sundry interesting contacts, though, as my visits to London of late years have been few and short, I think it unlikely that I have come across any of the several girls he describes so alluringly.
Some years ago I was standing at the corner of Rathbone Place waiting for a stream of traffic to pass into Oxford Street (it was before the days of "traffic lights") when I became aware of a charming little figure standing beside me — a young lady not much over 5 feet high, with "ginger" hair and the brightest, friendliest little face imaginable, resting on a pair of smart black crutches with red morocco-covered tops, and with a single shapely leg and "oxblood" stained high-heeled shoe visible under an extremely short skirt.
Noticing my obvious interest, she smiled, and asked me if I knew exactly where Torrington Square might be, as she was thither bound with a message. I replied that I was going very near that way myself, so we walked along talking "nineteen to the dozen", as if we had known each other for years! The young lady told me that she had lost her leg in a street accident three years before; was quite reconciled to doing without it, and was thoroughly at home on her crutches — so much so, in fact, that her agility caused her to be thought a marvel by all who knew her. And of that she gave me ocular demonstration when, crossing Tottenham Court Road, with its amount of fast traffic, she "speeded up" to a pace that I, an unusually fast walker, just couldn't quite keep up with, finding her awaiting me on the kerb the other side, several yards ahead!
Arrived at her destination, we lingered and chatted for some time before parting, she telling me much about herself and her job; that her name was Dolly H. and that she was still unattached. Unfortunately I forgot to ask her her address, and as it was the last day of my stay in London, I had no opportunity of seeking to renew her acquaintance for some time.
Alas! I never saw her again. Though I have often since wandered about the area in question, and seen many an attractive sight and met more than one interesting monopede, yet never have I caught a glimpse of that particular little being of whom I retain so vivid a memory, nor met anyone who knew her, either by sight or name.
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life May 3, 1941 p. 35
Sentiment Of A Bygone Day
Dear Sir, — I am just a little concerned at the various letters that have appeared in "London Life" of late, over various signatures, from individuals who grumble at the nature of, and the amount of space given to, the correspondence, and who, as it appears, would, if they had their way, transform your very individualistic weekly into a story-magazine very like any one of a number of others.
Surely all this betrays a very odd and illogical way of thinking! If the public want straightforward love, adventure, and detective stories, then there are plenty of publications that offer them an unlimited abundance, with or without admixture of topical and quasi-scientific articles, stage or film lore, etc, etc
Why, then, cannot the above-mentioned dissensions be satisfied with these, and leave "London Life" to those for whom it's intended the rebels against convention; the lovers of the bizarre and unusual; the seekers after that elusive something different that to all but the most humdrum minds adds such an important spice to life!
I do not know what the circulation of your journal might be, but I suspect that, were you to grant these grumblers their wish and bring out a number filled entirely with stories and articles, no matter how excellent, one or other of two things would happen; either sales would fall with a bump to an uneconomical level, or they would remain high but reveal, should newsagents be interrogated, a complete change over in the personnel of the buyers. In either case, should the change be announced as permanent, all but a few of the old enthusiasts would be left disconsolate! I know I should!
Nor do I see any justification for correspondents grumbling at the inclusion of letters on topics distasteful to them personally. Every man's meat is someone else's poison, and those who have strong likes and dislikes themselves should allow for others having the same, and act accordingly. Though no one is less sensitive than myself to the allure of rubber clothing or feels greater dislike for transvestism, female impersonations, etc, as I have said, I think, before, I should never dream of suggesting their elimination from your pages so long as readers who remain take interest in them.
As for your correspondent "Honesty", (what a pseudonym to choose!) and his strongly-expressed repugnance to monopody (April 5th) — well, I can only conclude that he has either never met a monopede or, worse still, has met one of the wrong sort. Unfortunately, there are such, who seek to compensate for lack of charm by exaggerated self-pity as a vehicle for attracting attention.
Anyhow, I was sorry to see his effusion with its hint of the conventions and sentiment of a bygone day.
Yours truly,
C.D.B.


London Life May 24, 1941 pp. 28 — 29
A Far Cry From Abomination
Dear Sir, — A recently-published letter described artificial legs as abominations. Having depended on them for support since youth, I feel unable to let the description pass unchallenged.
Amongst "London Life" monopedes and admirers, such an appliance is looked upon with scorn and disfavour as a "machina non grata". If more consideration were given to the benefits conferred on certain types of amputees, the undoubted value of artificial legs would be conceded, and a more realistic view taken of them and their advantages.
To those who have undergone amputations leaving stumps to within four inches of the knee and more particularly to monopedes whose knee-joint has been spared, an artificial leg can be an essential part of their lives. In the latter case the falsity of the limb is impossible to detect if used with consideration of its limitations. Even in the former case, minus the knee-joint, an experienced wearer hardly shows its presence except by the merest limp and lift of the shoulders in walking. Indeed, its use cannot be detected with careful positioning of the foot when sitting. Care must be experienced in the method of sitting down or getting up. Low seats should always be avoided. Never sit on the floor. The rigidity and restricted movement of the ankle will instantly draw attention to the leg.
Not many of us are in the happy position, financially, to do all we please. If I were, I should not be under the compulsion of permanently wearing in public a wooden leg, with its inevitable accompaniment of stump corset, buckles, straps, braces, belts and the like. But one must eat to live, and given normal appearance, one has an equal chance with fully equipped and naturally complete mortals of earning a living. An obvious cripple, such as a monopede or a one-armed girl, is always at a disadvantage, and cannot get an equal wage, even though their loss or disability might not detract form their skill. Consequently the majority of women minus a leg or an arm must disguise their deficiency, which is, to my mind, why two out of every three such cripples wear some mechanical device. In my opinion more and more monopedes are resorting to the excellent metal legs, and many, too, with what are awkward amputations to fit. Artificial legs today are not the heavy, cumbersome, unwieldy contraptions, obvious in use and a burden to their wearers, that they were only a few years ago. The light metals play a big part in providing a light, comfortable leg, which is not always out of use for mechanical defects. The squeaking and clanking, a source of embarrassment and annoyance in older wooden models, has been obviated. Therefore a modern monopede, aware of this, wears a modern metal leg. Science has made her "leg-conscious".
To have got the idea from the foregoing that my leg and I are inseparable companions would be most wrong. Like good friends, we are together a great deal, but there are times when one wishes to be free and unrestricted. If the time and place are suitable, then I take it off and return to my crutch, or just plain nothing.
I hope your readers may now concede that there is a lot to be said in favour of an artificial leg which, in certain circumstances, is a practical, useful and even necessary addition — a far cry from an abomination.
Please thank "Single Shoe Only" for the interesting photo. I particularly appreciate it, as an occasional user myself of a peg. It is to be hoped she has some more to send. I do not remember seeing the promised photo from "Definitely One-Legged", to which I am looking forward.
Yours truly,
Modern Monopede.



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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 25648Unread post Bazil
18 Feb 2018, 13:05

London Life July 12, 1941 p. 34
Two Of A Kind
Dear Sir, — I claim a record!
Meet the only monopede, amputee, one-legged, limbless — what you will, but certainly permanently crippled girl — the whole of Britain who is an A.R.P. (Airport Reference Point) worker!
I had an idea that you would like to hear about me — and see me too — so I just jotted down a few details and did a couple of rough sketches (thanks for the lead, "M.D.") of myself.
First the bibliographical details.
Born 1922, kicking two legs strongly in mid-air. Dropped off to sleep in 1927, as above, but woke up with ghastly pain (can still feel it) just above the left knee. Uncontrollable tears greeted my vainly groping hand seeking the leg that had gone — result of painful germ activities not understood at five years of age.
I won't worry you with distasteful details of fearful series of "ops" which followed at intervals for ten years — removing constantly-growing leg bone, scraping, etc. They provided surgeons with much fun, no doubt, but were like inquisition punishment-tortures to me. I feel even now, when I "crutch-lope" past hospitals, that I would willingly have exchanged all that pain and pointless butchery for the rack, thumbscrews or lifelong chains.
But enough of the shacking pain and despair that is the early lot of every amputee — all I want is to make clear is that I can't remember being two— legged. All I can recall is being always "My daughter, err... she's a err... cripple;" or "Pegs", "Crutchy" (in retrospect; aren't schoolgirls unkind?), "Stump Sally" (when they saw my naked and unbeautiful stump on medical inspection). Or young fellows "Hello, Sally... er... good-bye!" for they never had time for a girl with whom they could never dance, or play tennis, or cycle, never even walk arm-in-arm, or whose twin crutches hindered even the good-night hug...
But I didn't give up hope — and I had a great revelation come to me when I was seventeen, a couple of years ago, and it was like this...
To cut a long story short, I got on a long distance bus one day to go to an aunt at the seaside. When I had, with my usual cumbersome difficulty, lifted my one poor overworked limb into the bus, I saw that there was but one vacant seat left — next to a pretty, youngish blonde girl in front. The bus was just starting, so I slipped myself off my crutches, dropped into the seat and propped my life-long companions up against the front window.
Imagine my embarrassed horror when I suddenly noticed resting similarly next to them another, tall, polished, black pair, in front of the blonde girl! I naturally looked straight down at what I (again to my horror saw was one silk-clad knee and an empty flat skirt where the other one should have been.
I would have given anything not to have taken that seat at that moment. Those all too-frequent whispers started all round — you know: "Poor girls, so young, too..."; "How terrible for a girl... maimed for life;" "fancy two girls on crutches;" etc.
I blushed furiously when I saw that the blonde's eyes had followed mine and were looking half amusedly, it seemed, at the big expanse of empty skirts in the centre of our seat.
But she only smiled, and offered me a cigarette, and she soon put me at my ease, talking frankly about our "mutual mutilation", as she laughingly called it, asking me technical surgical details (not for "London Life" readers) of my many "ops" and various amputee's more intimate details.
When I conveyed to her the length of my stump (a matter of five or six inches) she silently pressed her hand against her dress on her right lap, showing plainly that there was not a vestige of a limb left, for it had been amputated close up to her trunk. (Forgive surgical details, readers, but this means leaving a slightly raised, about half an inch, "mound" of flesh between front hip and buttock).
She told me that she had been crippled ten years and was then twenty-five years of age, and she advised me to make myself as attractive as possible, for she had found her husband after her amputation, which, by the way, had been necessitated after severe injuries in a fire.
She had found a husband (I thought), even though he knew that, as an amputee, she could never bear him children, and as a hip-amputee could not even wear an artificial leg, but was condemned to spend a life on crutches.
I was so impressed by this, and much more that she told me, that I took her advice, and today am engaged to an R.A.F. (Royal Air Force) pilot, and work as an telephonist in an A.R.P. (Airport Reference Pointhead) quarters.
But — good heavens! — look how much I've written. I was going to tell you many other incidents of my life (like the one about the only man who tried to take advantage of my crippled state), but they'll have to wait until another time — that is, if the Editor wants them?
Meanwhile, the sketches:
No. 1: shows me on my (only) never-used "peg" leg.
No. 2: going shopping on my favourite crutches.
No. 3: A.R.P. in slacks and special crutches like "M.D."
No. 4: Yet another special (rarely used) type of elbow-crutch I've got.
Yours truly,
B.W.


London Life July 19, 1941 p. 37
Is Anyone Else Attracted?
Dear Sir, — I have a queer kink in my make-up which makes me admire and find beauty and attraction in a thing I have not seen mentioned in your paper; although it seems to cover such a multitude of attractions. It is the cork boot for ladies' use. Good examples are very rare, but they certainly exist in nearly every town. To be attractive it has to have about eight inches of cork, curved in every vertical direction, and the wearer must not limp. There are many cork-boot wearers but few attain the perfection which attracts me. I'd love to know if anyone else is similarly attracted?
Yours truly,
Short Leg Admirer.


London Life August 16, l941 p. 36
High-Boot Fad
Dear Sir, — As a Reader of "London Life" for a number of years, I was delighted to read "Short Leg Admirer's" letter, as I myself am fascinated by the sight of a really well-shaped high boot. I am fortunate enough to be well acquainted with a young lady who is compelled to wear one. She never wears boots, but always purchases the most fashionable shoes it is possible to obtain, and to have the left one raised to suit her leg, as she will only have a very slender heel it was to be made of wood, and the sole only of cork. I shall never forget the day she came to meet me with a new pair of summer shoes on, white kid with blue facings; and the left one, with its thick sole and seven inch heel covered in kid to match. I am enclosing a sketch of one of her hoes, black suede, sole and heel faced with patent leather, which I hope is fit for publication.
Does "Short Leg Admirer" know the name of the lady pianist who wears a very dainty high shoe? I have seen her on the variety stage, but fail to remember her name. I should be very glad if he could enlighten me.
Yours truly,
High Shoe Lover.


London Life August 23, 1941 p. 23
All About Artificial Legs And Leopard-Skin Coats
Dear Sir, — I would like to enter into correspondence with girls who, like myself, are one-legged. There have been many interesting letters from brave cripples who are "happy on one", but I notice that most of these letter— writers go in for crutches or the peg leg.
I am shorn of the left leg, but I differ from other of your correspondents in the fact that I wear not a peg leg, but a properly surgically-made leg which matches my real one, save for a certain stiffness of it when I sit down or wear short skirts. I am sending a snap of my legs to show other monopedes how really well a surgical leg can look when clad in silk hose and high-heeled shoes, which, of course, must be specially made, and mine are done by your advertiser of the Regent Shoe Stores, as I saw his advertisement in your paper and availed myself of his services. I have painted the artificial leg on the snap to make it a bit whither, so that it will come up well if it is reproduced, but girls like myself, who are lamer can see at a glance the charm of the well-made artificial leg over that of the "peg", or crutch. Save for a certain stiffness when walking, none would know, that actually I had only one real limb.
Of course, it takes a little time to get accustomed to the managing of a surgical limb, which buckles and straps to what is left of the amputated member, but it is well worth the effort, as time and practise soon make one perfect, and then the glory of wearing really well-made high-heeled shoes is the reward of the amputee. As you can see, my heels are very high, and both my shoes look neat on the foot.
Because I have written on this subject, do not imagine, please, that I am not interested in any other topic. All that fills "London Life" is of great interest to me, and it is quite a "family mag". When all is said and done, for we readers are given plenty of space in which to spread illustrations that go to some of the letters and, of course, the photographs.
Incidentally, why has "Leopard Mack" not written again? I am a great fan of all things made in the imitation of leopards, and love leopard-skin coats and hats. I am not alone in this little fad of mine, I know, hence the popularity of the "jungle coats" we see about these days. I hope to write you a long letter soon about my experiences when wearing a smart leopard mack; that ought to please the mack fans.
I trust that the host of subjects covered by this letter will not be too much for the Editorial patience and result in this, my first effort, reposing in the waste-paper basket.
What a sad end for a really good intention!
Yours truly,
Surgical Limb.


London Life August 23, 1941 p. 34
An Effect Undeniably Good
Dear Sir, — The interesting letter and sketches from Miss "B.W." in your last week's number came very welcome. I was beginning to wonder what had become of the monopedes, and to feel just a little bit apprehensive as to whether they hadn't all been scared off by the unkind comments of such writers as "G.F." and "Honesty".
Miss "M.D." (of your "bombed out" number) has not yet redeemed her promise to send further accounts of her doings. Where, too, are "Autolycus," "Captain" and "A.M.F.", whose contributions loomed so large last autumn? Surely they haven't all fallen on the field of honour or, worse, lost their interest in monopody! If not, more sketches in particular, "Captain", please. Some more philosophy from "Predilected", "Rotto" and their interesting girlfriend "Happy", would also be acceptable. Correspondence on eye-wear, too, has been conspicuous by its absence of late. I wonder why, with the hot weather bringing out its display of coloured spectacle frames, etc, to match summer frocks!
Then, again, when is the first of Miss "Really Helpless's" promised chronicles likely to appear? As she says an invalid is often made the recipient of all sorts of confidences, so they may well be thrilling.
By way of stimulus, then, I enclose a sketch of my rather beautiful friend, Hilda, as I first saw her some years ago, in the days when "eye-veils" and snakeskin shoes and bags were the latest fashion — not long, in fact, before her wedding, which accounts for the interest in the furniture shop!
Since writing the above, I have seen your issue dated July 19th, including the remarkable sketch of a group of limbless ladies sent in by your correspondent "A.H." It's good to hear, after so long, that his one-legged girlfriend is actually happily married. What a coincidence that her name should also be Hilda! She appears by no mean dissimilar in type to the Hilda I have mentioned above.
As for "Short Leg Admirer's" interesting note, I quite agree that a really smart high boot worn by the right sort of girl can be very attractive — an asset, in fact, rather than a handicap but that at all an accentuated limp is fatal to the effect. In the later case crutches are best used out of doors, and if of exactly the same colour and degree of polish as the boots, the result can be decidedly "fetching". I enclose a sketch of a girl I met many years ago — in 1925, to be exact — as the fashion of the hat and some other details may testify. Though too stockily-built to be really graceful, the young lady's agility she had been on crutches all her life — as she swung herself along on her smart brown crutches, matched by her polished boots and a predominantly fawn costume, produced an effect undeniably good.
Yours truly,
"C.D.B".


London Life August 23, 1941 pp. 22 — 23
Why Relegated To Dust And Cobwebs?
Dear Sir, — Only rarely do we get letters from "Thud and Tap" girls or, more familiarly, monopedes, so that a recent letter from Peggy over the signature "Wooden-Legged but Light-hearted", was most welcome and undoubtedly unique. I have never seen a rare Avis such as a double peg-leg, though a friend of mine about whom I wrote previously is entirely legless, but uses a pair of artificial legs. Kay, by the way, is now a little more expert on her false legs, and gets about unaided except by two stout sticks, though with a pronounced mechanical motion from the waist down. Owing to heavy wear on stockings, and rationing, Kay has gone almost entirely into slacks and ankle-socks.
To revert to "Wooden-Legged's" letter, she tells us nothing of herself as the extent of her loss. Perhaps she would have us believe that peg-legs are the easiest things in the world to walk on, the only trouble being to conceal their presence. This is impossible whatever is worn. Granted slacks give more cover than skirts, particularly if they are right down to the ground. But the moment the wearer moves, the illusion of the possession of two real legs is shattered. But to wear fleecy-lined crimson velvet trousers! I believe that peg-legs worn with a swim-suit would be less conspicuous.
Peggy only refers to her wooden extensions when in use and actually walking on them. This is the easiest part, but no one can stand or walk for ever. The difficulties start in the putting on of the wooden pegs and dressing, besides sitting down and getting up. Then again, there is the negotiation of stairs, bus travel, etc. It would be interesting to hear how she copes with this obstacles.
Failing the photos, the drawings from "A.H." were a good substitute. Three girls with four missing limbs between them must be near a record in real life. (I don't count Wallace Stort, who can group his fictitious monopedes and arm-less girls at will.) However, if I am not mistaken, "A.H.'s" friend Hilda had in previous photos lost her right leg. Perhaps the negative had been printed the wrong way round.
The letter and illustrations from "B.W." were worth the long spell of monopedic inactivity which preceded them. I hope she will write again with her other one-legged adventures. Her peg-leg and undies sketch was neat. I trust others will follow suit and that "B.W." will repeat the dose. If only some monopede were an opera length hose or "gap" fan, we could look forward to an occasional treat. Is it too much to expect?
Please thank "B.W." for her excellent contribution. When she writes again, perhaps she will tell us why such a useful piece of equipment as a peg-leg is relegated to the dust and cobwebs. I should have thought for A.R.P. work with slacks, it would be ideal.
Yours truly,
A.M.F.


London Life September 13, 1941 p. 28
A Mortal Terror Of Injury
Dear Sir, — I was amazed to see that you published my little drawings! I never thought that they would be good enough to get in, but I take the publication of my letter and drawings of myself as an encouragement to tell you more of myself and my adventures.
Then, as I was sitting down to write, by a strange coincidence "A.H." sends his drawing of his monopede friend in U.S.A. and her girl acquaintances. It is indeed strange that one of them is legless, for such a girl, living a few miles from here, is one of my closest pals — has been since childhood, when our two mothers (of crippled-for-life daughters) met. So I enclose a drawing of her (with her permission) as perhaps your readers might like to see that here in England, we, too, can — as "A.H." points out "dress smartly and in the fashion."
Sylvia, for that is her name, has overcome her terrible handicap in an amazing fashion and is a free-lance journalist of no mean repute, as well as being a budding author.
In defence of we English cripples, I hope I show in my drawings of her (I am an amateur artist, and illustrate her articles a good deal) and myself that "A.H." need not think that we are "shabby" in comparison with your equally unfortunate American cousins. Sylvia, confined to her chair for ever, unable to walk, dance, or even like myself move herself about on crutches; dependent absolutely on hand, foot and fingers of friends; carried or wheeled everywhere — she has not forgotten that she is a young woman of twenty-four years of age — and she dresses like one. Don't worry — "A.H.", Sylvia and her gallant band of comrades up and down the country a bravely putting a smart face on their dreadful handicaps and are trying to fall into line with their fashionable and whole sisters.
I have drawn Sylvia in her wheel-chair as she attends cinemas, the theatre, and other social events, where she sits nonchalantly smoking a cigarette, is the focus of a hundred staring, sympathising and admiring eyes. I think, secretly, she enjoys her "limelight", and is to been seen at all sorts of events, wheeled by her younger sister who is, if anything, prettier than herself.
I should like to refer further to "A.H.'s" letter — or rather to the accompanying drawing by Hilda Holt — which showed her on her black crutches.
I don't know whether it is a mistake on the part of the artist but I must say that it would be dangerous, almost impossible, for Hilda to get about on the crutches she depicts. Firstly, they are not the right length from armpit to hand-grip (measured by crutch makers from armpit to wrist). Her hands are much too high and her arms too bent for her to walk far without great discomfort.
Secondly, there is no sign of "crutch-tips" — the all-important rubber ends of our crutches. I should not like to trust myself on my crutches unless they were tipped with rubber ends, and, as these frequently wear out with constant use, I often go to my crutch-maker, who fits a new pair. Plain wood would slip on the ground — and I, for one, have a mortal terror of injuring my one remaining leg and joining Sylvia in her pitiful helplessness.
Thirdly, I would not like to have to travel far — and I am not very heavy, although plump and rounded after so many years of confinement to the comparative inactivity of crutches — on Hilda's arm-cushions on her crutches. They are far too narrow and sharp, and would soon cause pain, inability to bear her body's weight, and finally "drop-wrist", or, as it is known, "crutch-palsy".
I find I have written too much again and cannot tell you of my personal experiences — but I will write again soon. Meanwhile I enclose, with my drawing of my legless girlfriend a sketch of myself in my A.R.P. uniform, and on my "mobile" but rather uglier crutches.
I hope they will reproduce. Would you like me to write again, Mr. Editor?
Yours truly,
Margaret.


London Life September 13, 1941 p. 34
Without The Trace Of Limp
Dear Sir, — I completely agree with "Short Leg Admirer" and "High Boot Lover" on the attraction of a well-shaped high boot. I had never been fascinated at seeing one till a few months ago, and this is how it happened. My fiancйe met with a serious accident about a month after we were engaged, which resulted in her left leg becoming five and a half inches short. The first pair of boots that were made for her were clumsy— looking things which laced up to about four inches above the ankle, showing an expanse of stocking between the boot top and skirt, which we both decided looked unattractive.
After wearing these for some months (during which time she tried to dispense with her high boot, but found it impossible, as it was too tiring to walk far without its aid), she decided to have another high boot made for her. This one was well shaped, with a very slender heel. Incidentally she has this boot made higher, as she wanted to wear a smart high heeled shoe on her right foot; thus the high boot had an eight and a half inch heel, and laced right up to the knee. Now all this had been done unbeknown to me, so just imagine my thrill when I went to her house to keep an appointment and she greeted me dressed in her latest outfit and wearing her new high boot in highly polished black kid and a smart black patent leather court shoe on her right foot. It was a sight I shall long remember. When I told her of my feelings, she said I must be "nuts", because she says she can't see anything nice in wearing a great big "clodhopper".
I showed her "High Boot Lover's" letter, and now she is going to get a smart pair of shoes and have the left one raised, the same as he says his lady friend has done. It is now ten months since my fiancйe got her first high boot made, and though she is still shy about having to wear one, she walks without the trace of a limp, and has also learnt to ride a cycle. I hope the sketch is good enough for reproduction. It is of the first time she was wearing her knee-length high boot.
Hoping to send you some photos later.
Yours truly,
Cork Boot.


London Life September 20, 1941 pp. 30 — 31
Gets A Good Deal Of Fun Out Of Life
Dear Sir, — As a husband of a monopede, I was amazed and delighted with the photograph and description of the artificial leg sent by "Surgical Limb". How she manages her high heels is beyond me. She must have endless pluck and perseverance.
My wife has been without her left leg for five years. Five years ago at a party at which there was some horseplay she was fallen on accidentally and her leg was broken in several places. Within two hours it had been amputated above the knee and she was left with a stump about nine inches long. On Fay leaving hospital we were engaged. A lover of high heels before her amputation, Fay has never been able to wear a surgical leg with any degree of comfort and consequently she was thrilled by "Surgical Limb's" letter, and very envious.
For some time after the accident my wife used crutches. At first these were of the ordinary under-the-armpit variety, but as they tended to give her cramp in the arms, and also wore out her clothes, she now uses the shorter type shown in my sketches. From crutches Fay graduated to a plain wooden leg, which laced and strapped on. This leg was covered with black leather. For our wedding she was fitted with a surgical limb which she had later to discard as uncomfortable. Indoors she now wears her wooden leg as it leaves her hands free for house-work, while outside she uses crutches, as she says they give her greater confidence. With them she certainly is amazingly agile.
With crutches or wooden leg, Fay wears flat-heeled shoes or ones with one and a half inch heels. On our special evenings at home she returns to her old love of four and five inch heels. With silk undies, tight-fitting black velvet frock and black patent court shoe with white piping and five inch heel, monopede Fay looks just as stunning as any of her two-legged sisters. With white enamelled crutches, which allow her greater freedom of movement when lying or sitting down as they are so easily discarded, Fay looks as pretty as a picture. As the evening wear on she discards her crutches and frock and I hold her in my arms while she makes more use of the charm of her single silk-clad leg than can many girls without her disability.
Needless to say, I am very proud of my beautiful, one-legged Fay, who, though crippled, manages to get a great deal of fun out of life. After the first natural shock of losing her leg, Fay had never let the misfortune interfere with her happiness; in fact, she takes a pride in being more attractive and being better dressed than most girls and though stairs, trams and buses are all awkward for her to negotiate, she gets about as before. I have tried to persuade her to let me take some photographs, but she will not consent and says my sketches must suffice.
As to our other fads, I am afraid that Fay and I have very few except high heels and eye-wear. The latter interests us particularly. Our fad in this direction is the thrill to be obtained from extreme myopia and the powerful lenses necessary to counteract it. Fay has perfect sight, though she often wears white-gold mounted pince-nez with plain glasses at night. Her twin— sister Edith, however, is extremely short-sighted and permanently wears glasses with lenses nearly a quarter of an inch thick. With her rim-less white-gold mounted spectacles, with their gleaming thick lenses, which permanently veil her eyes in mystery, her slim figure, black hair, six inch heels and sheer evening gown, she is nearly as thrilling as one-legged Fay.
Yours truly,
Mono Fay.


London Life October 4, 1941 pp. 23 — 24
I Had Such A Fright
Dear Sir, — I've started to write to you again, and I am also enclosing a drawing — for I still think that perhaps "London Life" readers may be interested in monopede stories, especially if they come from a girl monopede herself. Here is the story I promised to tell you in my last letter. It was like this.
One day while on holiday at a nearby holiday resort (I had gone down for the week-end, as a matter of fact), I decided to take myself, my crutches and my bathing things along to a secluded bay and have a dip. I should mention that I am an experienced swimmer, of course, and are more at home in the water, naturally, with my missing limb, than on land.
To cut a long story short, I bathed, leaving my clothes and towel hidden behind some furze bushes. But owing to the distance from the bushes to the water, I had to take my crutches down to the edge of the waves. I am quite unable (unlike many assertions of some of your readers) to balance for any time or hop on my remaining leg!
When I had swum some way out, I turned, and was treading water, when I saw a man hurry furtively to my crutches. He had appeared from nowhere, it seemed, but he must have watched me undress (the beast), and I smiled as I thought: "Well, Mr. Peeping Tom, you won't find any money there. My clothes are well hidden. That's only a pair of wooden crutches."
But my smile changed into a look of horror as I saw this vile creature grab the crutches and run off with them, up a low cliff to the top, where he laid them down — quite out of my reach, as I am physically incapable of any climbing, of course. I shouted: "Bring my crutches back," but he took no notice, and just sat down beside them. So I swam as hard as I could for the shore and, reaching the beach, crawled out of the water on the hands and one knee.
Just as I sat upright on the sand, he started to come down to me — a nasty smirking, oily little man with little piggy eyes and an almost insane glitter in them. I realised that I was in a devil of a jam. I had chosen this cove, or bay, for its solitude (for I should feel embarrassed baring my stump before a crowd); my only means of movement, a pair of split-wood crutches, were out of reach. I could not get away except by going in the sea again, and by this time he was between me and the water. I did not stop to argue with him, but started to drag myself, by my arms, over the sand towards the sea. I was terribly frightened of what he was going to do to me. Every girl will realise just how I felt, I know.
I dragged myself — painfully — over a few yards of beach and then I stopped, as I realised that, laughing all over his face over my helplessness and futile efforts to escape, he was walking with me, keeping pace with slow, strolling strides.
I realised, too, that escaping by the sea was out of question. I could not stay in the water indefinitely without getting cramp and drowning. I could not swim for help, as it was much too far round the headland. I could not get more than a few inches away from this filthy little brute who had suddenly loosed all his evil intentions on me. Looking up at him as I lay, panting, on the sand, I burst into uncontrollable tears and begged him, promised him money, if he would give me back my crutches and let me go.
He stared vacantly and then said: "I will, if you kiss me."
I shuddered as a dreadful feeling crept up my back. Was this a ruse to get near me? What other outrage was he planning? But I realised that I could do nothing but submit, and so I tearfully agreed. He bent down and... what do you think? He gave me a neat little kiss on the forehead!
Then up the little cliff he run, brought back my crutches, raised his hat, said "Good afternoon," and ran out of sight into the woods.
I lifted myself on to my crutches, hastily dried and dressed and walked home as fast as my crutches would allow. I told the story to my landlady, swearing her to secrecy, and she told me that there was a mental colony near the bay, and that certain "cases" were allowed out.
That may sound all right — but I had such a fright, such a nightmarish few moments, that I have never bathed there since.
Yours truly,
Margaret.


London Life October 4, 1941 p. 32
Take A Pride In Their Appearance
Dear Sir, — I was particularly interested to read the correspondence in your recent issue concerning monopeds, and must express my admiration for the plucky way the girls overcome their handicaps in various ways. I feel, however, that something should be said for their more unfortunate sisters who suffer from injuries and deformities which the surgeons (no doubt in their wisdom) decide do not warrant amputation, with the result that, instead of being able to effectively conceal or minimise their misfortunes, as is possible with good artificial limbs, attention is drawn to the facts by a decided limp or the wearing of leg instruments.
These girls seem to fall into two classes, namely, those who have a decided inferiority complex and desire to keep in the background and the others full of personality and great courage, who are determined to live a normal life as far as is physically possible. These latter girls deserve every help and encouragement, and certainly receive my admiration. As an example, I quote the case of a girl unable to walk without instruments. When on holiday she enjoys a daily swim, at which she is an expert, although she has to be carried in and out of the sea by her sister, in sight of everyone.
There will be a great increase in the number of these cases as a result of air-raid injuries, and in my humble opinion the proper angle for us all to adopt is to encourage such girls to feel that there is no need to try and conceal their disabilities, but take a proper pride in all details of their appearance on the lines suggested by your correspondents, "Short Leg Admirer" and "C.D.B".
My own opinion is that, with a smartly-dressed girl, personality, the wearing of a high boot or leg-irons, if kept highly polished and in first— class order, adds a piquancy to her appearance.
Perhaps some other readers will give their news.
Yours truly,
Biped Minus


London Life October 4, 1941 p. 27
Thanks A Million
Dear Sir, — Please permit me to write this, as promised some weeks ago.
I promised to tell you all about my meeting my new-found friend. I have previously explained that she is totally without arms and the right leg. She's a sweet girl, too, and ever so bright and cheerful.
Our first meeting took place at my home, three weeks ago. You can't imagine my delight on hearing the rat-tat at the door, and on looking out of the window, saw a very dark complexioned girl of about twenty-five, on crutches. Naturally, in a flash I knew her to be Doris, which incidentally is her Christian name. As you're aware, the weather was frightfully hot, and Doris was more than glad to sit down in my cool front room. There we made out personal first acquaintances, and compared our physical disabilities.
I suggested to Doris that she might feel more comfortable if she were to temporarily discard her artificial limbs.
I had already discarded mine, and sat comfortably on the settee. "That's a fine idea," Doris said, "but won't you mind?"
"Why, of course not, dear?" I said. So it was as we both wished Doris came alongside me on the settee, and I undid her straps. There we two sat, looking at what we both thought was a gruesome sight.
Anyway, we wear them, we said, so they shouldn't appear too bad. Well, we sat reading and talking of other afflicted girls who write to the correspondence pages. Then we decided to have tea yes, just the two of us.
In the midst of tea, Doris commented on "Surgical Limb's" photo in this week's issue, and we both said it seems impossible for a lady to wear such high heels on a artificial foot. Nevertheless, it seems we are both wrong. Yet we both endorse what "Surgical Limb" says of well-made artificial limbs. Yes, and congratulate her heartily on her courage in overcoming her apparent loss by covering it with beauty.
Should this appear in your correspondence columns, which we trust it may, we hope she will see our good wishes and congrats. Again Doris and I say we should know, having to wear one each.
A firm in Tottenham Court road made both Doris's and my imitation limbs, and they are apparently as near perfect as it's possible to make them.
Doris has almost agreed that we two shall send sometime soon a snap taken indoors of us both sat on my settee. I'll endeavour to do my best, having the use of my arms, to snap us both.
Doris joins me in once again tendering our sincerest thanks to you and the correspondents in good old "London Life".
Should you know any other lady reader who has had the terrible misfortune to lose two or more limbs, I give you my permission to forward her my address, so that Doris and I may cheer her up these terrible days.
Thanks a million to you, Mr. Editor, and I may all your readers enjoy many years as subscribers to "London Life".
Yours truly,
F.N.


London Life October 4, 1941 p. 33
Vivid Portrayals
Dear Sir, — The other day I met a charming girl, whom I shall long remember with pleasure, as conforming to many a monopede admirer's ideal. minus her left limb, amputated as the result of the deadly bone disease, and that, too, whilst serving as a probationer in one of the most famous hospitals, where she found herself, almost in the twinkling of an eye, transformed from nurse to patient, and her whole life's plan upset. Yet never have I seen a monopede so outwardly unconcerned with her deficiency and more determined to consider herself in all other respects a normal girl and a normally efficient member of society.
Moving swiftly and gracefully on a pair of light elbow-length crutches, the only sort she had ever used (contrary to all advice, she had learnt to walk with them in the first place, a most risky proceeding, one would imagine) — she looked a perfect picture of ease and self-assurance, and a living reproach to those who look upon a one-legged girl as a cripple or abject of pity.
Elsie, for that is her name, had never heard of "London Life", and was much interested and astonished when I showed her letters and illustrations in back numbers. After some persuasion she had promised to write herself, and should she do so, readers may look forward to a treat. A girl intellectually far above the average, her reminiscences ought to be enlightening. But maybe excess of modesty will prevent her. I hope not.
It was good to see that the young lady who signs herself "Margaret" in your current number had not forgotten, as so many do, her promise to write again. Her drawings are excellent, but the hand-rests of her crutches are shown as a good deal too high up to be practical. Truth to tell, crutches are not easy to draw accurately, and anyhow, both girls have sent us vivid portrayals of their general appearance.
Yours truly,
"C.D.B."



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KnyghtRyder
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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 31872Unread post KnyghtRyder
13 Aug 2018, 17:32

I just wanted to say thank you Basil. I quite enjoy these old articles. Is this all there are or do you happen to have more?



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Re: Letters to the magazine "London Life" 1924-1941

Post: # 32391Unread post Bazil
25 Aug 2018, 19:17

That's all I could find.



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