The judges in London included such stalwarts of the realm as the Marchioness of Tavistock and former Cricketer Sir Learie Constantine, as well as experts from the colonies Broderick Crawford and Johnny Mathis. After they had observed all the forms parading across the red-carpeted stage of the Lyceum ballroom, they decided that once again, Miss United Kingdom was obviously Miss World. Regal (5 ft. 8 in., 37-24-37) Lesley Lang ley, 21, also obeyed the traditions by weeping prettily. "As there was a British winner last year," she gasped, "I did not think I should be chosen because there might be allegations of favoritism." And sure enough, after leggy Lesley had been crowned, Miss U.S.A.'s manager began suggesting that "I am not suggesting there is anything funny about this . . ."

Esenin, dear, Russia has changed And I do not like to say it has changed for the better, But to say it has been for the worse would be dangerous.

Nonetheless, Evgeny Evtushenko, the bad boychik of Soviet letters, was at it again, this time kicking up a few vaguely dangerous poetic heels at the party during a Moscow meeting on the 70th anniversary of the birth of the great Russian village poet, Sergei Esenin. In his 52-line Letter to Esenin, Evtushenko raged oratorically on about how the "red-cheeked Komsomol leader thunders with his fists at us poets and wants to knead our souls like wax." The lines rang a bell for Sergei Pavlov, the red-cheeked secretary of the Komsomol (Young Communist League). He stormed out of the meeting and returned with four militiamen to arrest the bard, but backed off when the crowd of young poetry lovers staged a stormy protest of their own. Dear Esenin, Russia has changed.

Dictating letters to cancel out the rest of his 1965 appointments calendar, Dwight Eisenhower, 75, continued a steady recovery from the heart attack that struck during his golfing vacation at the Augusta National Golf Club. Out of the oxygen tent, Ike resumed a favorite hobby, painting, was wheeled out to the porch of his suite at the Fort Gordon, Ga., Army hospital and told reporters he was "fine, fine." At week's end, doctors arranged to move the patient on Monday to Washington's Walter Reed Hospital for convalescence.

"This is the most significant day in the history of the great state of Florida," said Governor Haydon Burns fantastically. Possibly it was, for then fantastic Walt Disney, 64, announced that he will enrich the state's tourist folklure by conjuring up a $100 million Disneyland East on 27,000 acres south of Orlando. "It's the biggest thing we've ever tackled," beamed Walt, who won't repeat Disneyland West, but isn't saying what goodies he has in mind. Burns had in mind a 50% increase in tourist trade, and straightway named Disney "Florida's man of the decade."

With a nod and a broader smile than he usually flashes at such ceremonies, Chief Justice Earl Warren, 74, looked down from the bench of the U.S. Supreme Court and intoned proudly: "Mr. Warren, I welcome you to the bar of the court." And with that, the Chief Justice admitted his son, Earl Warren Jr., 35, a Sacramento attorney, to practice before the Supreme Court. Earl Jr. was formally presented to the Justices by an old judicial hand and personal friend, Washington Trial Lawyer Edward Bennett Williams.

Two years before he died in 1940, F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote to his only child: "In your career as a wild society girl, vintage 1925, I am not interested." Well, she never really was a wild society girl, and certainly not of that vintage, but now Frances Scott Fitzgerald Lanahan, 44, has taken up a career that might fascinate her father. Scottie is writing about Washington society types, vintage 1965, for the New York Times. The trouble is that while Fitzgerald could sit down and wonderfully invent his parties in fiction, his daughter now has to track down all the gossip at balls and blasts. "Sometimes it's embarrassing," says she. "When you're asked to a real fancy one, the hostess doesn't want you to write about it."

Had Shaw ever played the "inscrutable" game, he might have looked like that indeed, bending over the plate in knickers and Norfolk jacket and slamming line drives all over the field. The thought amused English Actor Bramwell Fletcher, 60, as he assembled his evening of Shavian sport, The Bernard Shaw Story, a one-man show now playing in Manhattan. Fletcher gleaned a few lines from Shaw's 1925 essay "This Baseball Madness," and added them to his impersonation. Wielding his unlikely prop, Fletcher-Shaw muses: "As far as I can grasp it, baseball combines the best features of primitive cricket, lawn tennis, puss-in-the-corner and Handel's Messiah."

Fast in the wake of John F. Kennedy: Man of the Sea and not so far behind the memoirs of Artie Schlesinger and Ted Sorensen comes yet another, My Life with Caroline and John-John, the chatty monologue of Maud Shaw, who was the Kennedys' faithful English nanny for seven years. She retired last spring, vowing that "my experiences are better kept to myself," but soon changed her mind. Despite "discreet" objections by Jacqueline Kennedy, her recollections began in the December Ladies' Home Journal. There are some homey anecdotes, such as the one about President Kennedy asking her when she was going to trim John-John's long hair. "What could I say?" she writes. "I couldn't say that Mrs. Kennedy wanted it long." She must have let on, though, because the President winked and said, "I know. If anyone asks you, it was an order from the President."

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