"To lead women out of the kitchen and into the atomic age" was the avowed purpose of the organization. "Not to know all about atomic energy and the wonderful things it can do," explained motherly, tireless Founder Muriel Howorth, "is like living in the Dark Ages." Last week in Aldwych's Waldorf Hotel, Mrs. Howorth's high-minded Atomic Energy Association of Great Britain (membership: 300) celebrated its second anniversary with an atomic pantomime called Isotopia.
Before a select audience of 250 rapt ladies and a dozen faintly bored gentlemen, some 13 bosomy A.E. Associates in flowing evening gowns gyrated gracefully about a stage in earnest imitation of atomic forces at work. An ample electron in black lace wound her way around two matrons labeled "proton" and "neutron" while an elderly ginger-haired Geiger counter clicked out their radioactive effect on a pretty girl named Agriculture. At a climactic moment, a Mrs. Monica Davial raced across the stage in spirited representation of a rat eating radioactive cheese. Mrs. Davial, it was noted in the program, had "recently returned from a trip to Tibet" and hence presumably had a nice understanding of these things. A small boy named Bunny May was on hand to guide recalcitrant atoms into their proper places.
The meeting was brought to an impressive finale with a piano performance by Muriel, Lady Anderson of her new Atomica symphony, a musical interpretation of "how man's whole mind changed from the moment the atom bomb dropped." "Of course," said Lady Anderson to her enthusiastic audience, "I was inspired. Man can do anything he wants if he will only tune in to the vibrations around him."
Sometime next spring Lady Anderson hopes to have Atomica played by a professional orchestra. Meanwhile, Founder Howorth is dreaming of the day when she can stage Isotopia at the Albert Hall. "We would have room there," she explained with a hectic smile, "for all the 92 transmutations of the atom. Then we could have the explosion and all."