P-Day

Hello Chaps - to celebrate the paperback launch of 'The Beauty Chorus' today, we'll send a signed copy to the person who can answer a simple question. Go to www.katelordbrown.com, and click 'Contact'. Just fill in your name, contact details, and in comments tell us:

Q: what are the names of the three beauty chorus girls?

Names will go in a hat, and the winner will be drawn at midnight on 1/2/2012. Good luck!

Evie x

Beyond the Clouds

Dear All,

Apologies for the delay in answering Geeta's note. The weather closed in at Lossiemouth and I've been stuck up there for days. Then they had the nerve to send me back on one of the ghastly night trains. Freezing cold, pitch black, moving along at a snail's pace ...

The night trains are the opposite of flying. Geeta asked how it felt when I first took control of a plane. Was I scared? Excited, I think. I had been absolutely desperate to get in the air, but Daddy (Leo), forbade it. Of course, I wasn't going to put up with that. I gave French lessons to earn the cash to bally well pay for the lessons myself.

Perhaps if you've been fortunate enough to travel by aeroplane, you know the joy one feels the moment one breaks through the clouds? Dear Magee's poem gives you a taste of how it feels for a pilot. We aren't actually meant to fly beyond the clouds in the ATA - we're meant to fly in sight of land at all times, but ... sometimes there is little choice. Look at Amy. The planes we fly aren't fitted with what they call 'the finer elements' - radios, arms. If you get caught out by the weather or the enemy, you are on your own.

Perhaps what I love most about flying is this - the freedom, the sheer bliss of being in the air. A plane doesn't care how old you are, or what sex you are. Virginia (step-monster), delights in telling me I am too young to do this or that, or I can't do something because I'm a girl. Phooey. A good pilot is a good pilot - it's as simple as that.

Must dash. I've just seen Teddy storming down the corridor with a chit in his hand ...

Yours ever,

Evie x 

Ps the darling film the Beeb made will tell you more about what it's like for us to fly.

Pure Merlin ...

My dear friend Henri alerted me to this clip. It doesn't need me waffling away. Spitfire girls and boys, simply sit back and enjoy ...


Yours ever,


Evie x

Ps if any of you would like to share wartime clips or memories, do let me know. We'd love to hear from you.

Getting some fun out of life ...



Hello folks - Stella and I have had a jolly busy day off, spring cleaning the cottage. (Frankly like a lot of girls these days we are just doing the bits that show). I'm cooking pea soup tonight - would you like the recipe? My tripe casserole was a disaster, but you can't go wrong with this soup. I was just settling down by the fire with Stalin (the cat, not the dictator), and Billie Holiday, when I noticed we had a couple of questions from new friends.

Jo, I can well believe your 17 year old students disbelief about the stockings! Tell them we have to fight some of the chaps for the few available pairs - they say they wear silk stockings in flight for warmth ... Yes, I know what you are thinking! I shall be jolly glad next time I get stuck out on a delivery to a US base. The GIs are tremendous fun, and there are always stockings!

Geeta, thank you for asking about flying. I shall answer you properly tomorrow - my eyelids are drooping. In the meantime, dear John Magee's lovely poem tells you all you need to know about why pilots fly. Like a lot of my friends, we lost poor John when he was only nineteen.

More later. Yours ever,

Evie x

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds,-and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor even eagle flew-
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God

‘High Flight’ by John Gillespie Magee, Jr – Spitfire pilot, No 412 Fighter Squadron RCAF.  Killed 11 December 1941, aged 19

Acknowledgement: "Reproduced by kind permission of This England Publishing Ltd."

Chocks Away

Dear All,

Welcome to 'Ask Evie'. I'm so excited - it's less than a month until our book 'The Beauty Chorus' is published by the lovely people at Corvus, Atlantic. We girls have been saving our coupons for new frocks, and Beau has a bottle of champagne chilling. If you'd like a sneak peek ahead of April 1st, good old Waterstones has a downloadable preview of the first chapter here.

Over the coming months, I shall be bringing you news of 'The Beauty Chorus' - reviews, photos, interviews and videos. There will be links to ATA sites, and interesting WW2 info.

I do look forward to getting to know you all, and if you have any questions, ask away. If it's planes, horses or looking good on a wartime budget, I'm your girl. For advice on affairs of the heart, Stella is the best one to talk to (let's face it, she's had far more experience than me ...). We're going to dig out some of Meggie's gardening tips, and if you dare I'll give you a few of my wartime recipes.

Anyway, must dash. I have a chit - Spitfire to Tangmere. More soon.

Yours ever,

Evie x