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Match made in heaven  Camille and Jerry Famous Quotes: "In Hollywood they get married early in the morning. That way, if it doesn't work out they haven't wasted the whole day." (Mae West) "In Hollywood brides keep the bouquet and throw away the groom." (Groucho Marx) Whilst I am bemused at the cynicism of the stars, just like humour, romance is in the eye of the beholder and this can come wrapped in many different packages. I try not to see a marriage certificate as another word for a work permit to a woman or an expensive way of the man getting his laundry done for free but instead like to hold on to the notion that true love cannot be found where it truly does not exist nor can be hidden where it truly does. Just like true love the perfect romance is hard to find and when it comes to romance in films I have very high expectations. Palpable chemistry is a must, not too many odds for the lovers to overcome and preferably no devastating death scenes. But sometimes the latter are extremely necessary to boost box office ratings. Fantasy Island  Come back and see us sometime... To me a dream is a wish your heart makes.Or maybe dreams are just problems tugging away at our subconcious trying to tell us that we need to do something about them. So maybe this website is a rich source of information about myself! As a young woman I was always drawn to romantic tales onboard cruise ships though even to this day have never had the privilege of setting sail in such high fashion. The closest I came to this was falling for Captain Franco on an Italian ship called the 'Apia' when I was merely 16 having set sail from Brindisi in Italy to Patras in Greece. It is not often a girl wants to be older than she is, but in this instance I couldn't have wished harder to be 20 something instead. It has been said that anything is possible on the internet these days but this is not so. Having spent hours on my "surf" board I am finding it extremely hard to secure a seat on the Pacific Princess so my hope of being swept away to some tropical or mysterious country for romance aboard the Love Boat seems pretty slim. According to Thomas Cook Dr.Adams and his crew ceased taking bookings beyond the late seventies. Sadly no tour operators are going out to Fantasy Island either these days so romantic dreams that were once never impossible to achieve are a far cry away. I even applied for the post of the Island hosts' midget assistant but apparently there is not longer a need for one to announce "de plane, de plane" seeing as Mr Roarke also ceased trading. I would have adequately met the height criteria and having always wanted an office of my own, the bell tower would have been a luxury apartment for me. What I need to know though, is how can a whole tropical island just disappear? Having reconciled myself to the fact that I must continue to operate from the tiny nurses station in non-so tropical wiltshire it suddenly struck me that all was not necessarily lost and maybe I would still get to set sail one way or another. Captain T Kirk used to talk of "star" dates so why could I not bring this into the 21st century and manipulate the internet date on my laptop? I could quite easily have set this for 1912 to find myself in the arms of Leonardo Di Caprio but having read my history I knew that our romance would be doomed on an ill fated voyage onboard the Titanic and whilst death by minibar sounded very glamorous (as quoted by Rupert Everett at his best friend's wedding), death by drowning did not. I knew my true love would soon be drifting away from me and any mobile texts of "come back jack, come back" would not reach him in time to save him and I have this absolute distaste for abbreviations even though they are quicker to transmit. But I still have my heart of the ocean necklace on me (ok, so it is really my silver cross) but if I am to live in the past on a moment of absolute happiness in the hope that I can relieve that state of emotion sometime in the future then I need to use a bit of imagination when fast forwarding to 1942. I would not go so far as to say that I was highly strung (though some might say I should be given the content of this website), deeply depressed or on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but I am not unlike Charlotte Vale in my desire to be transformed from an unglamorous mouse to a liberated raging beauty. Having cleared it with my boss I have now booked myself into a mountain retreat for some respite from the pressures of work. I have met this wonderful doctor who looks and talks like Claude Raines. He has given me a lot of his time and attention and crucial building up of my self-esteem. My leave for convalescence onboard an ocean liner set sail for South America has been approved and with that I have done away with my unchic shoes, sexless old fashioned dresses and owlish librarian spectacles. Asda Woolmart have a wonderful line in two-tone high heeled shoes and wide-brimmed hats and as I stand here in a classy outfit with my stockinged legs, Louis Vitton handbag, and elbow length gloves I peer at my own reflection in the ships window - contemplating the mystery of my own self. I am turning the heads of every male passenger. How I adore stiletto heels that was to put the wiggle in Marilyn Monroe's walk ten years from now (being a time traveller I am aparty to such information of the future) and as I parade onboard ship I am aspiring to give my hips the same mesmerisingly seductive sway. I no longer have to hide those forbidden cigarettes (that mother does not approve of) in an ivory box, but instead I can smoke elegantly from a very expensive cigarette holder for all to admire. I no longer feel awkward in company yet try to remain just aloof enough to make myself interesting to my fellow passengers. Fear of identity fraud on the internet taught me one thing if nothing else. Never reveal your true self. So, when I found myself being introduced to this stranger on the ship Charlotte soon became Camille. After all, how could I be sure that his name was really Jerry like he had told me as he did bear a remarkable resemblence to Paul Henried. Plato was right, love is a 'serious mental illness' and I, for one, need my head examined. After I let Jerry woo me, he turned out to be married and worse still I found myself becoming a surrogate care-giver to his daugher Tina who had become attached to me. Should have read his profile on the net first. Just like me she was an ugly duckling who longed to become a swan and in my altered ego she looked up to me for help. It is said that it is better to be wanted for murder than not to be wanted at all but being a martyr was not for me. That being the case I would have applied for a part in Odette or Joan of Arc but neither Anna Neagle or Ingrid Bergman were glamorous enough for me. Jerry did love me, I know he did and whilst we could not ask for the moon, we did have the stars for a short while. As for whatever else we got up to onboard ship will remain a secret. The rule of Fantasy Island was never to reveal what really went on there and since I am following suit by alternating between two or more independent storylines it seems only fitting that I should respect this. The cruise did me good but like all good things it had to come to an end. I am back in uniform tending to the needy but I am no longer neurotic, fretful or inward. Though I am no longer an attractive figure of social grace and appeal it was fun while it lasted. Even though I found an impossible romance I did blossom under therapy and would highly recommend the Bette Davis clinic for all those hopeless romantics out there. I may not have sailed on the Titanic but nevertheless my heart is a deep ocean of secrets. I have to confess that I used my time machine to good advantage. Hovering somewhere between 1938 and 1942 I realised there were a whole lot of suitors out there on the film sets and boy, was I going to make the most of it!! You see, Jerry was not the only one man in my life during that time. First I assumed the role of a young socialite Judith Traherme, who fell in love with a Dr.Frederick Steele (aka George Brent) only to have him diagnose me with an inoperable brain tumour but told me that he would help me to die 'with dignity.' His last words to me were : "Nothing can hurt us now. What we have cannot be destroyed. That's our victory - our victory over the dark. It is a Dark Victory because we are not afraid." Oh how I love to play the martyr. Well, they do say love is blind but believe me, marriage is a real eye-opener. Great speech, but it didn't help me get my man - and let's face it, there is no good way to die now is there? As a headstrong southern belle from Louisianna in 1852 I earned the title of a Jezebel which caused me to lose my fiance (aka Henry Fonda)as I was stubborn, vain and too proud to admit when I was wrong. (Now that rings a bell!). I tried my utmost to win him back but to no avail. Tried my utmost to be a good wife to a rubber plantation administrator but could not resist the temptation to have an affair with a married man. As Leslie Crosbie my poise, graciousness and stoicism impressed nearly everyone I met in Singapore but when I claimed I had shot Herbert Marshall in self-defence his interferring wife was in possession of The Letter I had written asking him to meet me earlier that day and threatened to show my hubby. With all my heart I still loved the man that I had killed but it was too late to say sorry. Another one that got away! Then there was Clem. Dear Clem - my cousin's husband (aka George Brent)with whom I had an affair and who, in a fit of anger decided to join the battle of Vicksburg. He died before he could marry me and left me with a child which was later taken away from me. The child knew me only as Aunt Charlotte for years until the truth came out. Yet still I remained an Old Maid with a love starved soul. My last known identity during that time period was as Fanny Trellis. I was popular and beautiful but due to my stupid brother Tippy who had tried to embezzel a Jewish businessman- Mr.Skeffington- out of a lot of money, I decided to woo him with a means to marrying him temporarily to help get my bro' off the hook. But then Tippy decided to go to war, got killed and I was forced to live in a loveless marriage with a man who was so nice to me it made me feel sick. I took a host of lovers after that but none of them really loved me (not to be confused with real life please). Then to top it all I ended up catching Diptheria and it ravaged my appearance. But I was still married to Job (pronounced Jobe)and it was only through good fortune that he ended up blind and could not see that my good looks had gone and how age was catching up with me. But of all the men I had met whilst popping in and out of the studios he was the kindest of all. I used to tell him that 'a woman was beautiful when she had eight hours sleep and went to the beauty parlour every day and that bone structure had a lot to do with it.' He disagreed saying that 'a woman is beautiful only when she is loved.' Seems like love is not a matter of counting the years but making the years count and whilst age does not protect us from love, to some extent love protects us from age. In my webworld I am savouring the flavour of being a beautiful figue immortalising tender moments of romantic reflection. Charlotte Vale did not want to lose touch with her beaux yet wondered how she would ever be able to find them again. I was only too happy to help - after all, she had allowed me the chance to swap places with her and enjoy the romance of the high seas. So with my help,I introduced her to Facebook and the rest was history. We kept in touch and and she even added me to her list of contacts. How cool is that! Simply go to www.facebook.com * type in charlottevale60@yahoo.com where you can connect to her admirers. The 70's was a sad time in the world of entertainment when some great icons found their way on the Highway to Heaven. Michael Landon was not one of them fortunately - he was still alive and well living at that little house on the prairie. Seems the pressure of the film industry got too much for Pete Duel, one of the two actors in that comical TV western series "Alias Smith and Jones". He committed suicide at the age of 31 - I hope it was not with a Smith and Weston. John Wayne got off his horse and drank his milk for the last time in 1979; and though Richard Burton may have been tempted to tie the wedding knot around Liz Taylor's neck everytime they remarried, he did not. Instead they divorced for the second time. Of course, there was more of that to come. Hail, the King is dead! Not Caesar, but Elvis, that legendary rock 'n' roll singer who died on 16th August 1977 at the age of 42. At least he went in style at his Gracelands mansion in Memphis - somewhere I hope to visit during my lifetime. Charlie Chaplin hung his walking stick up a year later when he died on christmas day only to have his coffin stolen from a swiss cemetery three months after burial to be found 10 miles away. Another of life's great mysteries, no doubt. But on a lighter note, even though the community relations industry attacked television programmes like Till Death Us Do Part and Love Thy Neighbour for re-inforcing prejudice rather than undermining them with comedy, I could one not help but laugh at the antics of bigots Alf Garnett or Eddie Booth whose overt racism entertained me for a good number of years at an age when I was not aware of political correctness as it is today. All I can recall is Alf's tirades against Harold Wilson (the Prime Mininster back then), immigrants and catholics and his loyalty to 'Her Majesty', West Ham football club and the Conservative Party! Up Pompeii - that cross between a Roman soap and a Carry On Film - was hilarious as actor Frankie Howerd portrayed a slave by the name of Lurcio who narrated bawdy stories in a unique style whilst wearing a toga and sandles. And let us not forget Val Doonican, the nicest of TV stars who made rocking chairs, pullovers and Paddy McGinty's goat national institutions. Whilst I may not remember how photosynthesis works or the rationale behind Pi square or sines and cosines it is comforting to know that I can recall so much about the movies from my youth and hope that my viewers have found something here that has struck a chord or two however faintly. Why not check out my Movie Trivia Quiz on: www.http://mystudiyo.com/ch/a82115/go and have some fun remembering? Camille  "Oh Jerry, let's not ask for the moon - we have the stars" THE UNTOLD WANT BY LIFE, AND LOVE N'ER GRANTED NOW VOYAGER SAIL THOU FORTH SO SEEK AND FIND (Walt Whitman - American Poet 1892) The fond farewell  Jerry and Camille There are times when for one reason or another we lose a special love in our lives. It could be that maybe the time and place is not right. Beauty is a treasure but graciousness is priceless. Without it nothing is possible. With it one can do anything "Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss you will always land among the stars." |