for REAL LIFE
For Doris Rose, age is just a number, and she’s not letting anything get in the way of dancing the day away…
Feeling honoured and apprehensive, I steadied myself as I got ready to walk down the aisle.
‘Ready?’ the groom’s brother, Larry, asked me as we linked arms. I smiled, overcome with joy, placing my sparkly clutch bag under my arm so I could hold my walking stick. I was always a sucker for anything glittery, I’d even got my emeralds out for the occasion!
Wearing cream-coloured trousers, a sage green top, and a white fur stole held in place by a glitzy brooch, I walked towards Jack and Trevor, my dear friends who were about to tie the knot.
It was 2 January 2024, and I’d never felt happier. Surrounded by family and good friends, we celebrated a day of love, and danced the night away (with a little rest in between songs). As the DJ played Isn’t She Lovely, by Stevie Wonder, Trevor joked, ‘There’s three in this marriage’.
It had been more than 80 years since I’d walked down the aisle towards the love of my life…
Born in Hackney, London, on the 11 November 1920, I grew up in a Jewish household. Within four years, my brother Sidney was born, and we were incredibly close. There was a real sense of community following the war and an urgent rebuild. Although it wasn’t hugely talked about, the classic British stiff upper lip.
At 17, I met my husband Harry, then 21, but it wasn’t love at first sight. I had gone to a dance wearing a white blouse and black skirt. I liked his friend, who later in the evening offered to take me home.
Harry looked at me, then looked at my friend ‘You’re not taking THAT home!’ he exclaimed, arching his eyebrows. ‘What a cheek!’ I thought, keeping my face in a smile to hide my annoyance.
However, it turned out that was just jealousy, as our encounter soon turned romantic. He’d take me out dancing and we’d jive the night away. Pretty quickly, I knew he was the one for me.
Shortly before my 19th birthday, World War II was declared in September 1939. Harry was called up immediately and I enrolled in 1941. I wanted to join the Royal Air Force, mainly because the uniform was nicer – less boxy, and I wasn’t struck on the khaki. But at 20, I joined the Auxiliary Territorial Service with the Royal Artillery (I was given the number W1841031, which I still remember now!). After training in Guildford, I was deployed in 1941 to Acton in West London.
I’d learnt to use the first edition of radar, giving instructions to gun posts using a receiver and transmitt
