COME with me, as dear old Arthur Marshall used to say, back to the days of the late 1950s.

Black and white tellies in dark mahogany cabinets, Eastex dresses, Midland Red buses every 20 minutes, Elvis singing King Creole on Radio Luxembourg and every man expecting to come home from a hard day at the office to find his dear lady wife had a hot meal ready and waiting for him on the kitchen table.

Ho, ho.

A lot has changed since then.

As Elvis, now up on cloud nine, would agree.

So too do former members of the Escapers Club.

Not, as you might think, desperate PoWs anxious to scale the wire and scarper, but ordinary housewives, the sort who were supposed to have been slaving over a hot stove for their hunter-gatherer menfolk.

The quaintly named little clique came to our notice a few weeks ago when Joan Rosier sent us an old photograph she had come across while rummaging through some drawers in her home at Fernhill Heath.

Obviously of considerable period charm, it purported to show members of "The Escapers Club at Lickey End, Bromsgrove", who all looked like 50s young ladies to me.

A quick phone call to Joan soon elicited they were, indeed, fledgling housewives and not AWOL convicts, so just what were they escaping from?

So soon as I realised John Slim had something to do with it, the answer was obvious.

Today, Squire Slim is a respected columnist on a regional publication not a million miles from here.

But back then he was a bouffant haired young hack learning his trade, while wife Elsa stayed at home surrounded by the sounds, sights and smells of an infant family.

"There came a time when I got fed up with green nappies and sleepless nights," she recalled.

In 1958, the Slims lived next door to the Rosiers in Lickey End and discussing their lot one day, the two young wives decided to take action.

"We wanted something that would take us out of the domestic rut," said Elsa.

New housing was going up in the area at the time and a quick shifty around some of the other housebound wives revealed a hard core of enthusiasts for some escape from domestic drudgery.

"Most of us were women who had been in jobs before getting married and much as we loved our homes and children, we found being tied to the kitchen sink all the time was frustrating.

"It wasn't very mentally stimulating."

A notice pinned up in a prominent place in the neighbourhood advertising the formation of a group for young wives brought a good response.

"About 14 turned up for the first meeting, which was held in our front room and John gave a talk on journalism," explained Elsa.

Thereafter, the choice of speakers widened and so did the attendance, which soon shot up to around 40 and a room in the local school had to be booked to accommodate them all.

More and more women, it seemed, wanted to escape the kitchen sink.

The husbands even got in on the act too, only too ready to chip in with suitable manly assistance at barbecues, parties and other social events.

"The men thought it was wonderful," said Elsa. "It opened up a whole new social life."

Sadly, it didn't last.

By the early 70s, the young families of the founder members had grown up and there was more free time for "the escapers" to live their own lives again.

So the curtain came down on the Escapers Club of Lickey End, Bromsgrove.

Some of the women are still in touch and pictures of their days in white stilettos and jersey dresses bring back happy memories.

John Slim's bouffant hair?

Well, it rather went the way of the Escapers Club.