I’m ecstatic to be going to see West Side Story at the Royal Albert Hall tonight, with the Sister. It’s a showing of the film with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra playing along. How cool is that? And what’s really getting me excited – apart from the music and the choreography which were truly ground-breaking when the film came out – is the thought of seeing George Chakiris again. Love that man! And the sight of him in that mauve shirt I will take to my grave! About sixteen or seventeen years ago I saw him playing Mr Rochester in Jane Eyre and he hadn’t lost any of his old magic! There’s something about the name George. My favourite Beatle, the recipient of my first real love, was George Harrison. Having been in love with George, no other man could ever come near I’m afraid. And someone else I really fancied in my late teens was also a George. So, you tell me, what’s in a name?
Speaking of names, Hillary Clinton’s been EVERYWHERE in the last few days – on every TV programme I’ve watched, on Woman’ Hour and with Jeremy Vine on the radio and splashed across most papers. She’s got a book to push. Well, so have I! Five books. And I can’t get one paper, TV programme or radio show – apart from my monthly slot with Yvonne Williams on Gateway 97.8 – to give me a promotional interview! Hillary comes across as an articulate, intelligent, approachable woman. She claims that forgiving her husband for Monicagate was ‘the right thing to do’. Well, I suppose it was if she wanted to carry on with the First Lady lifestyle and high-profile existence. Politically it kept the men on her side – ‘I mean, come on, guys, all he did was get his dick sucked under the table in the Oval Office a couple of times’ – and like it or not, the men still wield the power in the world of politics, but she certainly lost THIS woman’s respect. I’d have taken to Hillary better if she’d been more Mrs Bobbitt than Mrs Clinton. Her husband’s a sleaze-ball with a history of affairs, including eight years with Gennifer Flowers, which he also denied, just as he denied ‘having sex with that woman’ about Monica. Genniger with a G. Hillary with two Ls. Has he got some sort of spelling fetish?
Last Saturday was a TOP EVENING in every sense of the word. Dolly P at the O2 with the Daughter. What a night! What a gal! I’ve never really been into Country music. It’s all a bit mah gal’s done left and mah dog’s done died. Apart from the iconic Ms Parton that is. She wiggled all over the stage like a dancing knickerbocker glory, especially in the second half when she wore knickerbockers under a silver fringed skirt. (Looked better than it sounds). She totally engaged with her audience, telling entertaining anecdotes between songs in her own inimitable way that you felt like you’d gone round hers for the evening. She played seven instruments, yes, SEVEN! And her voice! Amazing! And what a huge, huge, talent to have written so many fabulous, memorable songs. I came out wanting to cover my clothes in rhinestones and glitter and take up line-dancing. A real STAR.
And my writing, you ask. Well, in spite of Wimbledon taking up so much of my time over the last two weeks – don’t mention Nadal or Murray! Please don’t! – I’ve really got on with the Cinderella panto script. It’s almost finished. Very exciting! Hope you’ll come to see it. It’s at the Brookside Theatre, Romford, 18-28 December. And on Sunday we’ve got the auditions for dancers for the show.
And tickets go on sale very soon for Singles’ Holiday, which is at the Brentwood Theatre, 13-17 October. It’s a world premier so you don’t want to miss that, do you?