Strictly my turn in the spotlight

THE year was 1941, and I was a ballroom dancing fanatic, aged 17. I had only one year before I would join the Armed Forces. The war with Germany, at this point, was not in our favour. So as a morale booster, on Friday evenings the BBC would broadcast live radio performances of dance bands from two London venues: the Astoria and the Hammersmith Palais de Danse. The bands included Joe Loss, Oscar Rabin and Harry Leader, and we would look forward to these two hours of pleasure. One day, my friend, who worked in London, asked me if my partner and I would like a treat — a visit to the Sunday Dancing Club in the Hammersmith Palais. He gave us directions and said that when we got to the reception area there would be a queue, and that we should ask the person on the desk to sign us in as his guests. We followed his instructions and the lady at reception said: ‘I won’t be nosey and ask your details, so I will register you as George Smith from Wood Green.’ Oscar Rabin was playing when we entered the hall. I also saw the lady singers in the flesh. I was in heaven! After about an hour, the MC got on the microphone and said: ‘Everyone on the floor for the Spot Waltz.’ We obeyed and after a short time Oscar waved his baton and the band stopped dead. The MC shouted: ‘Everyone stand still.’ He then started to walk in my direction, stopped in front of me and said: ‘Will you remove your feet from where you are standing?’ There on the polished floor was a small cross. I was the winner of the Spot prize. All the dancers around me applauded. It must have been down to ‘George Smith’s’ lucky genes!

Bob Hunt, Bengeo, Hertford.