On Valentine’s Day 1968 I was working at the newly founded Department of Health and Social Security in London when I was summoned to the front desk to deal with a confusion about a client’s identity.
Waiting for me there was a beautiful young woman with a big lovely smile. She needed her single-mother’s payment but she and her siblings’ files were all mixed up, on account of them having the same initial.
We didn’t have computers back then of course so I flicked through all these files and booklets we had and got to the bottom of it; unfortunately I still wasn’t able to authorise the payment.
But I really liked the look of this Jeannette girl. I told her to wait a minute while I checked in with my boss. At first he told me we couldn’t do anything, but he must have sensed there was a bit more to it than me just wanting help and asked me cheekily: “What’s she like?”
“She’s gorgeous!” came my reply and he said he’d turn a blind eye just this once so I might have a shot with her. It was the swinging 60s after all.
I got back to my little cubicle where she was waiting and told her I had one last question.
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked her.
I’m not usually that forward, but I couldn’t let the opportunity pass.
And it wasn’t just flirting that was different in those days. Certainly being an unwed mother was a really big deal back then. Girls were kicked out of their houses into hostels to have their babies in secret. It had happened to my own sister, so I knew these were dreadful places. It turned out Jeannette had a harder time than even my sister, but she had come into the office so happy, cheerful and polite. I thought to myself: “If she can go through all that and still have a smile on her face, she can get through anything – even going on a date with me.”
That evening we bundled into a car with my best mate and his girl and thought we’d go for a night on the town in Margate. But of course this was February, and we hadn’t counted on the fact the whole town would be shut. We had a few drinks in a pub and headed back to London. We saw each other every single day after that and were married three months later.
I can’t even remember how I proposed, it must have been very unromantic, but we clicked the moment we laid eyes on each other – getting married just seemed like a given.
It was a bit of a whirlwind and not everyone had high hopes. On our wedding day my father said to me, “I’ll give it six months.” Of course he was in a no-lose situation there. I’d either prove him wrong or he’d prove himself right.
But a few years later he took me aside and said, “Dick, that’s the best day’s work you’ve ever done.” And I’d have to agree with him there.
It took my wife 14 years to convince me to move to Australia, I didn’t think I could stand the heat. But we’ve called it home for more than 40 years and now live in one of the hottest parts of the whole country.
All that time we’ve been such great friends and Jeannette continues to laugh at all my weird jokes. She is getting older now, but still has that same beautiful smile that captivated me then. We’ve never gone to bed with an argument between us and we always kiss goodnight – though she does complain I go on too long with that.
