Evening star., 1940-11-22
London Night Life
Proves Exciting
in Air Raid
Bomb Sends Clients
And Walters Diving
Under TubIes
BY w. L. WHITE.

BY w. L. WHITE.
London (By Wireless to N.AN.A).
In spite of the blackout and food
restrictions, London's night life is
still the iveliest of any world capi-
tai, considering the fact that you
get this excitement without big
fc-er charge, a paper hat or. tin
rattle.
The other night I dined at one
of London's most venerable res
taurants famous for its food, which
is more solidly British than Win
ston Churchill and is trundled to
your table on pushcarts, where
Yorkshire pudding is hacked of un-
der your nose. We had polished
of some of this and were listening
to an ancient walters explanation
of why preserved ginger and Devon
shire cream had had to be removed
from the menus for the first time
in 80 years, when suddenly there
was tremendous bang outside. 1t
brought all the diners to their feet
and was followed in about three
seconds by another explosion about
seven and three-eighths times more
tremendous.
I stood up in time to see the dig
nified clients and the august watt
eps diving under tables and chairs
for safety-that is, with the excep-
ton of very corpulent client, who
had just come in and was trying
to crawl under head waiter as he
escorted him to table. He might
we'll have succeeded had not the
head waiter been engaged in try
ing to crawl under him,
Distinctions Forgotten.
Never in any country have I seen
the various social classes mix more
thoroughly or more quickly. And
when Joe Kennedy says democracy
is dead in Great Britain I can't
for the life of me think what he
means.
When it became apparent the
ceiling beams were not going to
come floating down around our ears
everybody got out from under ta-
bles and chairs and sat down. After
an interval the waiter and the fat
client crawled out from under each
other, and the client, being towed
to his table, ordered a sherry, a
boiled side of beef, with cabbage
and boiled potatoes, and a large
tankard of pale ale as though MOTH
ing had happened.
However, I had a suspicion that
something had happened, so I in
terrupted my dinner, and after
some arguing and flourishing my
press pass I obtained permission to
go out into the street from the door,
man, who insisted bomber was
still overhead. 1 had gone about
2 feet when in the blackout I kicked
a large hunk of concrete pavement
and gradually discovered that the
street for 100 feet or so on both
Sides of us was Uttered with shat
tered paving from shallow shell
crater in frQnt of the restaurant
door.
1t was very dark, and, peering
intently, I just made all this out
when again suddenly a kissing
noise began and grew until it sound
ed like Santa Fe freight engine
running away backwards down grade
at Ratoon Pass and was due to
jump the track at the next curve.
Dives Into Concrete.
I knew very we'll what this sound
was. So, because l carelessly had
forgotten to wear my tin helmet, I
prudently dived head first into what
thought would be the protective
shelter of doorway. But it turned
out to be a softly curving, naked
stomach of concrete cupid, which
was part of that doorway's orna-
ments.
Just as my forehead struck this
concrete cupid's abdomen there was
a flash of light, tremendous bang
and a gust of wind. which sent me
rolling around in broken glass on
the sidewalk: I picked myself up
in wavering glare, almost a.
bright as daylight, for this third
bomb, landing just down the block
and around the corner, had piesced
the pavement and then rucely
penetrated the public underground,
but happily unoccupied, ladies rest
room, where it had exploded, sever
ing and setting alight three small
gas mains.
In a surprisingly short time the
London Fire Department, by an
interesting process which I am not
permitted to describe, had these
fires extinguished. What impressed
me the most was that in all this