ULICK O’CONNOR MEETS CHRISTINE KEELER

YESTERDAY, crossing Eaton Square (London) I bumped into Philip Corley, a painter, whose brother Tom, a hefty former US marine, attacked me in a Dublin coffee bar 20 years ago, but luckily for me came off worse, ending up in a hospital bed having necessary repairs. Philip clearly wanted to let bygones be bygones, so I asked him if he’d like to come to the one man show later on. He said he couldn’t but would I come to dinner the following night at his place. He assured me his flat-mate, Christine Keeler, was a splendid cook.

Tonight a taxi brings me to a flat off Sloane Square. Philip opens the door and I am led into a pleasant sitting room, where La Keeler is reclining in front of a blazing fire. She’s still attractive in the way that people with high cheekbones can be, unless they run to fat which she hasn’t. The difficulty throughout the evening was that one constantly thought about what not to say rather than what one might say, and as a result the conversation tended to remain unadventurous.

I got the impression of a pleasant lass who has managed to hang on somehow to the nicer side of her character even though she has been through the maelstrom. Philip’s work, displayed here and there in the hall, is good enough to show that he is serious about what he is trying to do. As neither of them told me how they had met I didn’t like to ask. We talked about Dublin and Philip’s friendship with Brendan Behan (there is a well-known photograph of the two of them out of their minds taken in a photo-booth). Later, after smoking a couple of joints Christine went to bed, and I remained with Philip. When the time came to leave he said that I should go in to say goodbye to her. I found her sitting up in a Queen Anne four-poster bed looking the image of Nell Gwyn — quite beautiful. I thanked her for the evening and waved good-bye. I would willingly have lain under the Queen Anne canopy with its beautiful occupant... Ulick O’Connor Diaries, January 29, 1975