 If a picture paints a thousand words it is hoped that by now my viewers will at least have a rough sketch of what makes me who I am today. Alas, I shall never be one to personify Hollywood glamour - only in my world of make believe. So too, unlike the Hollywood stars who all have the common theme of having passed through the gates of the dream factory,for me, dreams can only be wishes my heart has made. Unfortunately for me I do not have all the time in the world so I have disabled the time machine and text Rod Taylor to get him to come and pick it up. I had told my boss that I was popping out somewhere in my lunch break yet almost 120 years had elapsed and where I had ventured in that time will remain a mystery to her unless she logs on here. Oh to be able to speed up an 8 hour shift at work in the same manner would be 'money for old rope.' In this age of 3D and HD movies it is strange to think that less than 40 years ago films and television programmes were still being made in black and white. I have lived through the 60's with Michael Caine "blowing the bloody doors off" as the bank robber Alfie; the 70's with John Travolta strutting his stuff in a high school dancehall. With the sexy pilots uniform in replacement of those awful drainpipes he is definitely "the one that I want .. oo..oo..oo, honey, the one that I want.." My own wardrobe is a stark reminder of the 80's shoulder pads made famous in the soap operas that I used to enjoying watching at an impressionable age. I mean, how sweet was JR? He loved Sue Ellen so much he worshipped the ground her father struck oil on, did he not? What was it, I wonder that drew me to the likes of Dallas, Dynasty, Knots Landing and Falcon Crest - whose common theme was based on wealth, sex, intrigue and power struggles. Maybe they were preparing me for all the trials and tribulations of adulthood and I am bemused by the relevance nowadays. I am by no means wealthy, sex (well, at my age I can do without this but not without my glasses), I am intrigued by my own stupidity sometimes and as for the power struggle 'thing' this is non-so-true in the workplace. In my starring role I should have been Victoria Principle - the one to act as buffer between the Ewings and the Barnes. Fortunately in my nursing capacity the odd conflict there may be but fortunately no feuding. And my nursing home is not that different to Southfork. I mean they are both very large buildings with lots of rooms! In Dynasty I should have to be Krystle Jennings - secretary plus peacemaker between the Carringtons and the Colbys and go-between in the feuding factions of the Channing and Gioberti families in Falcon Crest. How I used to adore the character Lance in this prime-time soap that was more glamorous than Dallas yet was not quite as outrageous as Dynasty. The 80's was an era that also saw the final showdown of actress Natalie Wood who died after having drowned. The most famous 'Beatle' and rock musician John Lennon was assassinated that year (I mean, come off it, his music was not really THAT bad) and if I could re-feul my time machine I should place myself opposite that Dakota apartment in December 1980 trying to use my powers of reverse psychology to detract a man called Mark Chapman from firing those bullets that blasted him in the back whilst hiding behind a paperbook. Actor Steve McQueen, having onced escaped from Colditz was not able to endure that 'Great Escape from death when in 1980 he passed away. Sadly, author Joy Adamson who wrote the book "Born Free" which was later made famous as a film, ironically died at the hands of a lion in Kenya upon which the story was based. As for the 90's - well, thank god someone saved Private Ryan and he went on to be "Borne" again with a new "Identity." If only I could have stayed a while longer, it would have taken Google Earth to locate where I might be found at any particular place and time. Maybe I would have been found at some train station waving goodbye to Trevor Howard from a train window having had a Brief Encounter with him in a bid to escape from my humdrum life. It only lasted 7 weeks before he had to go away but looking back the location for our affair was pretty unglamorous ( a cafe), the streets of London were always rain slicken, and the dark train passageways in which we walked were a far cry from the beautiful Manhattan apartment in which Marilyn Monroe- a voluputous blonde managed to tickle and tantilise Tom Ewell who had encountered the Seven Year Itch whilst his wife was away for the summer. Ok, so his over-vivid imagination went into overdrive as he fantasised about this young woman who temporarily lodged upstairs to him but if Ben Afflick were to move next door to me right now I should hope we would be very good 'Friends' and Miss Aniston could eat her heart out. She had her chance and blew it! Oh to be his Memphis Belle ... but that is another story. There again I could be found strolling along On Moonlight Bay with Gordon MacCrae - cuddling up a little closer but not wishing to become a clinging vine. Maybe the Silvery Moon beams would bring me love's dreams as I learn to spoon. Doctor, Doctor if I am a spoon should I lie still and not stir? If I am to become a call girl for one night only and change my name to Holly Golightly, this I can do if it means being treated to Breakfast at Tiffanys. My unapologetic beauty will ensure that I demand a full english breakfast, no less! I can be charming too, a little eccentric, I do not deny and eating at this most famous jewellery store in the world where ''nothing bad can take place' sounds like heaven. But if someone were to ask me the real secret to being lovely I would have to say that it is in "the flowers that you choose, the music that you play and the smile that you have waiting." With all this I should long to be gay and cheerful - a haven in this troubled world. The only resemblance that I have to her twinkling tiara in the film is on my wedding day as it adorns my veil. Though a far cry from New York there is always the chance you might find me in victorian dress standing at Oakworth station in the Yorkshire Dales waiting for my father to emerge from a cloud of smoke having been cleared of all charges of selling state secrets to the Russians... Walking along Waterloo Bridge dressed as a prostitute instead of a ballerina do you think Roy would notice as he walks towards me through the fog and wonder what I was doing there, having already told him I thought he was dead? Having met him here during an air raid how could he know that our chance encounter would end so tragically in the very same place. I could be having a date with fate as I sit at the bar in Rick's Cafe sipping a glass of gin at the hottest spot in the whole of Casablanca whilst Sam continues to remind me that a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh and that the fundamental things do apply as time goes by ... In between I ask my 'viewers' "would you be very shocked if i were to pour myself a small martinin? It's awfully early, I know, but it must be 6 o'clock somewhere in the world." (Actually, it was Audrey Hepburn who said that in her book entitled "How To Be Lovely" and she was referring to a small whisky but I love the sentiment). Forgive the plagarism!! Pining my heart out for a priest in the Australian outback - having to settle for a sheep farmer instead is tragic for me. No matter how hard I try to induce Father Ralph to break his vows he will not relent. I am so very sad I would be better cast as the Mythical bird than Maggie. That is, the one that searches for thorn trees from the day it is am hatched and who, having found the perfect thorn impales itself thereon and in singing the most beautiful song ever heard - dies!! Working in a book store and rushing home to find a pop up on my computer that says "You've Got Mail" makes my day as I can rest assured that I am still Tom's "litttle shopgirl" and that love really is the only thing capable of turning an enemy into a friend.. But with my all time favourite actress being Bette Davis (often referred to as the Queen of Sadism), I am more than likely to be found in Vaudeville holding a life size baby Jane Doll writing a letter to daddy. One thing is for sure, there will be no Romeo lurking in my garden should I appear on my non- existing balcony yet this Rose by any other name could smell just as sweet given the chance. For a while, fiction became fact, my dreams became reality and my wishes to be a movie star were fulfilled. It was Anne Frank who gave me ispiration for my website.. From the age of 13 I too started a diary as a private expression of my thoughts and feelings as a young girl. By contrast my bedroom was her attic and now nearly 40 years on I boast 32 diaries in all. She too loved watching movies but Dutch Jews were forbidden access to movie theatres since January 8th 1941 so she was not as privileged as I was. It is true to say that there are some great classic films out there. Now, with Sky+ I can browse the planner, pick favourites and save the best ones for a rainy day. For me, the old movies still have the power to impress and I hope viewers to my site will have enjoyed this sentimental journey through the world of entertainment. So, if anyone were to ask me whether I would consider living a Hollywood way of life as opposed to my own - living in maginificent mansions, enjoying a cascade of luxuries, going to endless cocktail parties and classy nightclubs and having a series of romantic rendezvous - the answer would have to be YES. I shall portray a beautiful butterfly suspended effortely in the air so that no-one could see how very very fast my wings would be beating in the reality of it all. After the war Anne Frank's astonishingly intimate diary was found by accident. With a touch of genius it recorded the strains of her unusual life, the problems of her unfolding womanhood, her falling in love and her unswerving faith in her religion. This is a far cry from the madness of my memoirs which could never unearth my true inner feelings but I hope they will still reveal the shining nobility of my spirit. So, Dear Kitty .... Whether my website will remain timeless in its appeal is yet to be determined. In reality I have to realise that some things are foolish to live a dream upon because nothing ever stays the same. Things change and when you reach a goal you realise it wasn't what you remember. SAYOONARA (GOODBYE)  FROM GRACE WITH LOVE XXXX With that - thank you for listening!! Sayoonara xx Classic purchase  I bagged a bargain here.... EXCHANGE IS NO ROBBERY If any of my viewers, like myself, have this great desire to relive their lost youth, then there can be no better way to gather memorabellia than to pop along to your local car boot sale. Having stumbled on one by chance, I ended up going home with some wierd and wonderful objects from days gone by sold by locals who had no-longer-wanted possessions that I did them the favour of 'offloading' at rock bottom prices. At first glance it was not easy for me to identify the appeal of a boot sale but as I continued to watch an assemblance of people from all walks of life stroll among the stalls carrying 'likewise' purchases I could not help but be bemused by their purchases as no doubt they were mine. The nice thing was that one did not need a degree in commerce as neither the 'process' or buying nor selling involved any major financial decisions to be made (thank goodness) and one did not have to contend with monetary conversions - easily able to comprehend whether or not there was good value for money from the good old british pound. I saw it as a humourous adventure as I watched locals adopt the very un-British custom of 'haggling' over items that, in any other circumstances, would have been donated to the local Rag 'n' Bone men or simply thrown in the bin. In the main, a courteous and friendly approach was adopted by all parties during 'negotiation' and thus a sense of stiff upper lip was still maintained. Light humour was the secret to good business that day and whilst there were no guarantees - especially on the purchase of electrical items - 'caveat emptor' (let the buyer beware) was associated with goodwill gestures among the vendors who it seemed were regular 'pitchers' and punters who were regular visitors to the site. Whether one was a barrister or a bricklayer, a nurse or a navvy, no-one could never have known on civvie street. Whether one came from Braydon or Bangladesh, Purton or Poland, it seemed to make no difference as all prejudices were put aside. For that day, at least, the venue became a 'melting pot' for visitors all with a shared goal - to survive financially. My bedroom is now adorned with an array of magazines and comic books dating back to the 1960's, old typewriters, and vinyl records and even a pocket sized Pitmans shorthand dictionary, to name a few. Anything that is associated with reading, tv, films and music is helping me to enhance the content of my website that I may share it with my female viewers in particular who, like myself, can look back and know why it is so great to be 50 something and consider the importance of being able to make a 'pedigree' sausage dog draught excluder out of an old pair of thick denier tights before central heating came about and cutting winds used to come under the doors like a knife. * ( A first hand account by Grace 2009) |