How Wrong Can a Person Be!

Since publishing the article The “Battling Broads” Myth or True?  on August 22nd, 2012, there has been a continuation to the story of Bette Davis and Joan Crawford in the 2017 TV mini series “FEUD”.

A new mini series has been produced called “FEUD” starring Susan Sarandon as Bette Davis and Jessica Lange as Joan Crawford. Both are brilliant in their portrayals.

The real life ladies and the emulations of Susan Sarandon and Jessica Lange.

This goes to disprove my assumption that their FEUD was just a publicity stunt. I was WRONG! But one can’t be right all the time. I was just going from the news I could gather about their film “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane” and the stills from the said film. My research went no further back than that. I had no idea of the history of these two stars from their beginnings in Hollywood.

Well now, I don’t have to bother! The researchers of “FEUD” have done it for me.

I have to eat my words (within reason). Davis and Crawford, were both very hard nuts to crack.

With Bette Davis, what was on her lung was on her tongue, she took no bullshit from anyone. So you knew exactly where you stood with her. If she liked you, O.K, but if she didn’t! ‘Run for the hills!!!

Crawford on the other hand was even more dangerous and evil. Her behavior was more snakelike. She was devious and by the time she had finished with you, and used you, and abused you, she then threw you out. If you were lucky, you didn’t finish up with a knife in your back!

I have nothing but praise for this mini series and the work that went into the research into the history, backgrounds and relationship of these two stars, which went back to almost the beginning of their careers. This I didn’t do. Just goes to show you that they really did hate one another.

The research is quite amazing and must have taken months or even years to plan and organize, and the portrayals by Susan Sarandon as Bette Davis and Jessica Lange as Joan Crawford are quite brilliant! “FEUD” is a must for every film buff.

This is a recreation of their original pose.

The casting as a whole is superb. I have but two complaints. The character of Olivia De Havilland as played by Catherine Zeta Jones, a very talented actress in her own right, was not a bit like Olivia De Havilland as I remember her. Joan Blondell. meanwhile, was played by the superb and charismatic actress Kathy Bates, but they made her look as much like Joan Blondell as Lassie! Not their fault at all! Just put it down to very bad casting or very, very, very bad make-up!!! 

Outstanding, among the supporting players is:

JACKIE HOFFMAN AS Momacita. What a brilliant piece of acting, for which I believe she was nominated for an Emmy for best supporting actress in a mini series. Unfortunately lost out to another actress, to which she said, “DAMN IT!”, and I don’t blame her!

 

 

 

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Sir Ken Dodd R.I.P.

It is with deep sadness that I heard of the death of Ken Dodd,

Eric and Ken in Liverpool

because without Ken Dodd there would never have been any international illusionist “ZEE & CO.” Ken Dodd gave me my break, my first chance as an illusionist. In fact, he gave me everything! He told John Redgrave, who was the producer of the show at the time during rehearsals, “Whatever he wants give him!”, and he did.

I’m  happy to say that I worked with Ken for almost a year and enjoyed every moment of it. I got to know both Ken and Anne really well. All this was in 1968/69.                                                                                                                                                He was to me a very kind gentleman and a brilliantly ‘clean’ comic who I used to watch nightly when he was doing the first nightly show of two.  He was generous in every possible way (except where money was concerned!), but that’s another story. As you know by now, I can’t make a story short! I am inclined to go round my ‘arse to get to my elbow’ as the poet says!

Being with Ken for nearly a year gave me all the time to perfect and hone and polish the act. Within 2 years we, “Zee & Co”, were at the London Palladium, and during all this time Angie was with me. In fact, she was with me for nearly two years earlier whilst we were trying to sort out the act. My beloved Angie who, God willing, I will be seeing later this year in New York.

How It All Happened

I had already done a gala show at the Adelphi Theatre in London where I had a load of photos taken. They looked really good and impressive.

My Agent at the time, Anne Zahl, had booked me a TV appearance on “The Good Old Days” at the Theatre Royal in Leeds. The theatre ran a variety show all through the week and televised “The Good Old Days” live on a Sunday. Each act had just one hour to set up and rehearse. That is impossible for an illusion act! Add to that that having to perform live in the evening show, and you have a recipe for disaster!

It was  terrifying!  The Leeds Theatre Royal was the oldest music hall in England and had the worst stage rake (a slope or incline) on any stage. Of course, Anne had forgotten to tell me this, and all my illusions were on wheels! No brakes!!! So no sooner had we got on stage than everything started rolling into the audience. We didn’t know how to stop them. In fact, we couldn’t! Well to cut a long story short, it was a disaster! Fortunately, they cut me out of the show, and quite rightly so.              Well, going back to Ken, Ann Zahl told me that I should go and see him. Ken, who was playing in a summer season in Scarborough, Yorkshire, at the time, loved magic. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t contact him herself. Maybe she had seen the “Good Old Days”!  

I was very dubious about going all the way to Scarborough without an appointment and waiting outside the stage door when he might not even see me. It was not really me! It was definitely not really me at all! But then again? Thinks…….!! Oh fuck it! I decided I’d go, and thank God I did!                                                                                  

After waiting at the stage door for an eternity, he saw me. He was intrigued with my past history as an actor, owner of the Casino de Paris and my photos. He told me that he was reopening The Royal Court Theatre in Liverpool, which had been closed for years, for Christmas 1968. The show would run for eight weeks and he would give me a contract for the whole run of the show at the princely sum of  £135 a week for the act, which included Me, Ray, Angie, two boy assistants, my leopard Scorpio, Suki the Chinchilla Cat and all the Illusions. He said, “Either you are very, very good or very bad!” If the truth be told, I would have done it for nothing!

Whilst waiting to start rehearsals, Ken phoned me to tell me that a few magicians had told him that my act was terrible, so bad that it had been cut it out of the “Good Old Days”. He was a little worried, understandably, and thought that although he felt right about me, he would like to give me a two week trial. I told him that if it had been my choice I would have done exactly the same. So two weeks it was going to be.

When we finally opened, it proved to be an enormous success because I was presented properly and Ken let me close the first half of the Show. Even so, all this time I was worrying about the two weeks trial. Would he keep me or wouldn’t he?

Ken never said a word during the whole two weeks, and I wouldn’t ask for fear that he would say I had to go. Everybody I spoke to said of course I was staying on, but Ken himself hadn’t told me anything. So, on the Friday night before my two weeks was up I finally plucked up the courage and I knocked on his dressing room door and asked him whether we were staying.   

“Of course laddie,” he said. “Whatever made you think you weren’t?”

What a load off my mind that was. (Magicians eat your hearts out!)

So to you, Sir Ken Dodd, I thank you a million times  for your kindness and generosity of what you gave to me.  Ken Dodd, you were a great man! You gave me everything that was good for “Zee & Co.” I bow my head to you. May you always stay ‘tickling’ them up in Heaven!

“God Rest Your Soul”.

Lady Anne Dodd, nee Jones, and Ken. Thank God he married her! She deserves it, and may she stay Blessed Always.

Eric x x x

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“San Simeon” My Folly!

Let’s start with the Definition of the word “FOLLY”. 

A lack of good sense or normal prudence and foresight. A foolish act or idea, and an excessively costly or unprofitable undertaking. Which includes: “Ricky Renee’s”, “Stringer’s Last Stand” Eric Lindsay’s “Folies de Londres”, etc. etc. etc: and last but not least “San Simeon”.

Stupidity and extravagance, that goes into making up part of the definition of Folly, and I regret to say all these things pertain to me. I think I must be the idiot who invented the word Folly

When Ray and I decided on moving to Spain after the run of the Magic Castle Show at the Cambridge Theatre in London.

Ray wanted to buy an apartment on the Costa del Sol in Spain.

I wanted to build a house, because the cost of building on the Costa del Sol was so reasonable at the time. Who was I fooling! Folly!!!

I didn’t know it didn’t include, the excavation, the retaining walls, the paving to the villa, a swimming pool, the land fill, you name it, it didn’t include it.  

The house I designed was a brilliantly extravagant and picturesque structure that was built to my fanciful taste, and I have to say I planned it well. In fact it was my ‘Folly’! It had white marble floors throughout, Cazares stone Paving and Retaining Walls. Solar Panel Heating. You name it the Villa had it.

A view of the layout of the villa. It was large!

The main entrance to San Simeon, looking through to the center atrium.With the barbeque.

On closer look the two candelabra in the entrance were an exact copy of those in the film Sunset Boulevard. Ray loved that film, so I had them made.

 

Inside the villa to the center atrium

 

The atrium set for a dinner party. This was a usual occurrence during the summer months. Otherwise we would eat on the terrace or in the dining room.

The Terrace from Scorpio’s Cage, so he could see me constantly. It also overlooked the Pool. This is me on the front terrace, with my Agent Jamie Phillips who happened to be staying.

Scorpio in his cage with all mod cons and a dormitory for him to sleep. Also he could watch the comings and goings of all ad infinitum.

Here I am feeding Scorpio by hand in his cage, which I did every day. That is how tame he was.

This is a photo of my beautiful tame leopard Scorpio.

Front view of the villa from the road. The little roof to the right of the terrace was where Scorpio’s cage and dormitory was. The Hollywood Double Staircase led down to the Pool Area.

A secondary view of the Villa from the road.

Paying so much for the land was Folly, because the Builder that was recommended to us, by ‘friends’ (who most probably got a cut) robbed us and the plot of land that we original picked for the house, was in a different position to where our builder intended to build it. Most probably he got his plot a whole lot cheaper. Everything was completely different to where we had originally agreed. It was all a disaster!!! 

 

He refused to return our deposit.  Big fiasco! Money lost!!! (That was a time when I really needed Sadie’s Frank, or someone who could do maybe knee caps!)

So it meant getting another builder and starting all over again.

Ray tried to talk me out of it and normally when he made his case I would always listen and do as he said. After all he always knew best.

But I didn’t know he was ill and he hadn’t the strength to stand up to me to make his point.

So I went ahead and designed my dream house.

Idiot that I was. What a stupid action and idea it was on my part.

The lounge, looking through to the dining room. 

The other end of the Lounge leading to Ray’s Bedroom.

The dining area

Me with my “Soungeroff Clown”

The Kitchen

The full Kitchen

So by now you must fully understand the definition of the word Folly. My Folly!!! A popular name for a very costly structure that I had built. Where ignorance is bliss it is Folly to be wise.

Thesaurus explains it as; a building or project that costs a lot of money. How right they were! What the Hell! 

This was my Study that I built for myself, full of Magic.

Zee had this wonderful contract to Star in a new Revue at the Scala Cabaret in Barcelona and also Madrid, which was Spain’s equivalent to the Lido Cabaret in Paris. So for the whole time I would be working in either Barcelona or Madrid the Villa was being built. Or so I thought and by the time my contract was over, the villa would be finished.

Ha! Ha! Who was I kidding. The only thing that would be over was that everybody would be dead!

Ray’s Master Bedroom with Bathroom en suite 

If I say so myself, the Villa was beautiful, and finally when it was finished. Finally! Finally! Finally!

My parents had died, Ray had died, his Mother had died, and I was left alone in this fucking big Villa with Scorpio my Leopard and Suki who was on her last legs, and the Villa still wasn’t completely finished. The swimming pool had yet to go in.

When the swimming pool, at long last, which was the last thing to be finished, and if I say so, finished it was a work of art.

Everyone now was dead,  including Scorpio who was put down as he had accidentally ripped my throat open (my fault completely), and also Suki from old age.

By that time I had lost it completely and I was drinking quite heavily.

Uncannily, the pool was finished exactly to the day one year later that Ray had died.

Was that an omen or what?

A fitting epitaph!

The mosaic was King Neptune on a Chariot drawn be three Sea Horses. It was quite beautiful.

Ray couldn’t swim so I designed the pool with two shallow ends, with the centre that was just 6ft. So that if Ray had had problems in the deep end that once he had started struggling he would have been in shallow waters. Little did I know that he would never see or use the pool?

 

Please note: All these photos were taken post Ray’s death.

San Simeon

(Ray loved the name)

William Randolph Hurst built San Simeon and everyone said it was a Beautiful Folly. It was a Castle on the Grand Scale.

Whilst the Castle was never completely finished, it stands as the remarkable achievement of one man’s dream.

So in my very small way I was doing the same thing and had the gall to name it the same as his fabulous Castle!

I designed a Villa built around a center courtyard, very Spanish. There were four Master Bedrooms with Bathrooms En Suite one in each corner of the house.

There was one for Ray, one for his Mother, one for my parents, and one for myself. There was also a covered 3 metre Terrace running around the House, perfect for keeping the Villa cool,and shaded from the sun.

 As time and the years passed and I had lost all my loved ones, I grew to hate the villa and Spain. I knew that I had to break away from a dream that had become a Folly. So I packed everything up and returned to England with Ray’s Urn. The removal firm lived up to their name, and in transit, removed half my possessions’ including most of my silver and valuables. Except those that I had managed to pack into my car.               But that’s another story…………….  

 

 

 

Homage to Ricky Renee

It is with great sadness that I have just heard of the death of Ricky Renee.

Although there was no love lost between us, because too many bad memories occurred during the time that Ray and I spent with him in the late 60’s. when we opened the club for him called “Ricky Renee’s” in Covent Garden.

Ray and I never saw, spoke or had any contact with him whatsoever, from the day that we closed  “Ricky Renee’s” Club. As they say time heals all wounds, so what is the point of bearing malice and animosity when the same is going to come to all of us.

RICKY RENEE WHAT A TALENT!

He had it to his fingertips, the man and his persona was perfection itself and I have to hand it to him, he had such style.

Whereas Danny La Rue had meagre talent, but a brilliant business brain in the shape of Jack Hanson, Ricky Renee was all talent and unfortunately no business brain.

We gave him the best of everything, Douglas Darnell designed his costumes, the club setting was sumptuous, and he had a cast of the best West End performers supporting him. But it wasn’t to be! The Gods were not with us!

This is the way I best remember Ricky, glamorous!

The dress was solid bugle beads on chiffon. The coat was silk, trimmed with a white feater boa that went on for yards. The whole ensemble cost a fortune and was made by hand by Douglas Darnell. In fact, Shirley Bassey, who was then married to Kenny Hume, saw the show and immediately ordered a copy of the dress and coat from Douglas! When the show closed, Ricky being theatrical, as we all are, walked off with the dress and coat. That was last we saw of him, the dress and the coat, much to my chagrin! He must have worn it till it fell to pieces; judging from all the photos that I saw of him in it in later years.

The tiger was a rug that we had at home.

The finale of the show, Ricky as a man on my very expensive glass floor.

The photo shoot to get this shot took hours.

One of the top reporters of the day, Arthur Helliwell of The People newspaper happened to be a friend of ours. Arthur was one of the toughest reporters going. He interviewed Ricky and gave him a glowing report, but all too late! It wasn’t to be!

Ricky in later years. I have no idea of the date, maybe 2002. He still looked good.

R.I.P. RICKY

So another great one has bit the dust.

 

Ray Jackson Remembered

Ray Jackson

Today, October 25th, 2017, is the 28th anniversary of Ray’s death. 28 years! Where has the time gone? I have no idea! All I know is that the pain and ache is still here. When I think about him, which I do every day, it is as though it happened yesterday. The hurt is still there.

I feel as though I’m Queen Victoria pining over Albert, except I haven’t got a John Brown or an Abdul Karim to help me out.                                                                          More like Macauley Culkin. “Home Alone”! That’s just the way it is. That is my lot!

I miss him so much – talking to him, his wonderful sense of humour, and the laughter and oh! So very much! So very much! But most of all, he was my friend. I trusted him with my life. Never in a million years did I think that I would live this long. On the 13th of November I shall be 88 years old. Loneliness is a terrible thing, but please, dear reader, don’t feel sorry for me. My life is wonderful and really I’m very happy and content, but alone. There is a part of me that is lost and will never come back.

I remember, going back in years, it was either in 1995 or 1996 or even 1997, I’m not really sure of the date because really at that time I was so confused. Ray’s death had hit me so badly that I wasn’t sure of anything anymore or really what was happening. Even though it was nearly 10 years since he had died, it was as though I had an open knife wound in my heart that would not heal. I was forever on the move, all the time traveling between the villa in Fuengirola in Spain and the flat in London. Not working. Just on the move. It was like going from the sublime to the ridiculous every time I left Spain, but it brought me down to earth with a bang every time I was back in London, and all this time Ray, or I should say his ashes in a very unattractive urn, traveled with me. It would be on the mantleplace in Fuengirola or on the fire surround in London. It was all somewhat a little macabre. In fact it was very macabre, and many people said so, but I could not let go. I just could not believe that I had lost him forever.

Somehow I had to have him with me at all times and either flying to Spain or driving there, the urn travelled with me and I would talk to it. I think really I was either losing it mentally or I had already lost it! In fact I was always fully expecting the customs to open it thinking I had a stash of marijuana in there.

Whenever I was in London I would meet up with Daphne who was our cleaner when we were living in Barons Keep, and we had always kept in touch whether we were in the States or later in Spain. We would go to a pub in Soho Square and get quietly pissed talking about the old days and when Ray was alive. We spent good times together. Daphne was a spiritualist and when she was cleaning Barons Keep would collect hair from a hairbrush or comb and the odd nail clippings, both Ray’s and mine, and send them off to some crazy lady living in the country who would give her mangled readings about our hair or nails. Ray and I always took the letters with a pinch of salt, but Daphne believed it and it made her happy. She was forever telling me that her husband would die soon. The woman had told her that he hadn’t long to live, and she would be free. It deemed he was a burden to her. In Barons Keep when she was cleaning we always had a coffee together before she started work. When I wasn’t there, Ray would take over, although he wasn’t too keen on it as he used to say, “she talked too much”. On one of my returns to London post Ray, I got a call from Daphne’s daughter-in-law. She told me that she had been trying to telephone me for months, and, to cut a long story short, “Daphne had died”. The first thing I asked was whether her husband was still alive and she told me he was well and very much alive. So much for the clairvoyant who read hair and nails!

Well, I decided to talk to Ray (the urn, that is!). Daphne’s daughter-in-law told me that her ashes had been scattered in the Rose Garden of Remembrance at the Mortlake Crematorium

 

MORTLAKE CREMATORIUM

I went there to see where they had strewn Daphne’s ashes. Daphne’s daughter-in-law had given me complete instructions as to the exact spot, by a rose tree on a certain path, in the Rose Garden. It was such a beautiful day and it was so beautiful there just by the Thames, peaceful and tranquil.  Ideal for Ray.

Tower Bridge the main source of the winding Thames.

A subsidiary of the winding Thames

    It was so ideal, that I thought that at long last I had found a spot for him to rest.

THE CLOISTERS AT MORTLAKE CREMATORIUM

Well, I went back to the flat and talked to Ray (the urn, that is). I knew that he must have been as sick as I was with all the travelling backwards and forwards, and I told him that it was time I let him go and that it was quite beautiful where Daphne was and at least he would have company and someone to talk to, even though she might drive him mad now and again.

 

A ROSE FROM THE ROSE GARDEN

So the deed was done and I had his ashes spread by the rose tree, so he could talk with Daphne and have a wonderful view of the Thames. They kept the urn at the crematorium. Talk about recycling, it wasn’t even theirs. I paid for it when Ray was cremated at Golders Green Crematorium!

So I had put Ray to rest. I wasn’t happy about it, but it had to be done, and he was in a beautiful spot and, God Bless him, he at least had Daphne to keep him company. In my mind I thought that when my time came I could have my ashes spread in the same spot (That all sounds so good and easy. Ha! Ha! Don’t believe it!). On my last visit, I am always taken there by my very good friend Shane Collins.

SHANE COLLINS

Shane who is as famous as a Theatrical Agent as he is Theatre Producer and Director. He has received numerous awards for his brilliant productions of Gilbert and Sullivan. Too many for even me to remember. Whenever I am in London I stay with Shane and as I don’t drive any more (too old), he always takes me to the Mortlake  Crematorium.  I had asked him to spread my ashes in the same place as where Ray was when I pop my clogs. Don’t you believe it! The rose garden with all the paths had gone! In it’s place was a green field – no paths, no rose trees, nothing! With a big sign that said keep off the grass!  “Fuck it!”, I said to Shane, “When no-one was watching, go into the middle of the field and chuck my ashes towards the Thames, making sure, of course, that the wind was behind him. I didn’t want him to finish up with a mouth full of Eric Lindsay

 

This is a plan of the way the ROSE GARDEN was, and Ray’s ashes where laid between 36R2 and 37R1 up in the top left hand path 36 – 37. Well when I was last there, there was nothing but lawn and a big fucking notice which said.

“KEEP OFF THE LAWN”

Well, sod that for a lark!

DO I BELIEVE IN EUTHANASIA?  YES!                                                       

I have seen and read too much of the old people’s care homes, government-run or private. They are all the same, and I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy. There is a total loss of all dignity and privacy.

When the time comes, I would like to be able to control my own destiny and death. The only thing that I would really wish for is to die on the 25th of October, the year doesn’t matter. Then, when and if I am remembered by friends it will be linked with Ray’s name, and the toast will be to the both of us, and we will be together at last.

So rest assured dear reader that for the time being I certainly won’t be popping my clogs this year or even in the near future. It’s just that I have to plan to wait for the 25th of October to come around one year in the future. 

Meanwhile I will stay very much alive and happy.

 

Ray Jackson

 

Hurricane Ophelia

 

ROSE

When I heard that Hurricane Ophelia was due to hit the U.K. today, exactly 30 years from the great storm of October 16th, 1987, it brought back in a flash, the memory of that night. That was the start of when the shit began to hit the fan!

I had finished my contract of appearing in the Scala Show at the Melia Castilla Hotel in Madrid at the end of September that year, and even though they wanted me to sign a contract for another year, I turned it down because my mother, Rose, was very, very ill and alone.

My Father had died on June 20th, 1987 and the Scala management had refused to release me to attend his funeral. As they so rightly explained, they had built the whole show around me and I was irreplaceable. So I had to find an alternative and I asked Ray’s mother to stay with her, but she was completely indifferent, unhelpful and drunk. So I simply had to return to England to take care of her.

Apparently Rose had had a mini stroke in the flat whilst my father was alive, and he had just left her lying there in the hall for an hour before he bothered to telephone for an ambulance. That was just the way he was. Rose pampered him like a baby; he never lifted a finger to help her, he would just sit in his armchair watching T.V. and she would wait on him hand and foot.

I returned to England alone. Ray stayed in Spain to take care of some business, Scorpio  and Suki, and the house that we had built on the Costa del Sol.

I must explain that Rose was a fighter and she wasn’t going to let a mini stroke get her down. I found her pottering around and cooking a meal for me. She was so pleased to see me. She was so very frail. For a few days she was okay, then she had another stroke and was taken to the Hommerton Hospital in Hackney. I went every day and got to know a few of the families that had relatives in the ward. One, a Greek Family, explained to me that they would stay all night, as apparently 4 o’clock in the morning was around the time that most sick people die, so it was good to have someone guarding them. I have no idea where this superstition came from, but I was ready to try anything. So I changed my routine. I would go to the hospital at around 6p.m. and stay with Rose all night and leave at 8 o’clock in the morning and go and sleep. I would nod off occasionally in the hospital, but sleep! Really it just wasn’t possible and watching her either sitting in a chair or lying in the bed upset me so much. It made me very emotional. I had asked the nurse in charge whether she could be in a private room instead of the general ward, as I thought she would like it better. Really, I suppose it was more for me as well, as I would get very embarrassed if anyone saw me crying. What was I to do? A few days earlier I had spoken with her doctor about taking Rose to Spain as I thought that the weather would be good for her. I thought that once they had got her better that would be it. But she gently explained to me that she would never get better and that every time she had a stroke they would just get worse and very soon it would be fatal.

I was distraught and telephoned Ray and asked him to come to England. He phoned me back and told me that he had booked a flight to Heathrow for the 16th.

I had not read a newspaper or watched T.V. for so long that I had no idea that a storm was coming.

That night was strange. The wind was howling and it seemed to whistle through the hospital. The nurses seemed strange, maybe I was hallucinating and they never mentioned anything to me about the storm warning. Around about 3:30a.m. the matron came in the room and told me they wanted to tidy up her room and would I go into the family waiting room.

The storm was reaching its peak and what with the wind howling and windows rattling, I began to fanaticize. Somehow, I imagined that they were holding a ‘Witches Sabbath’ in Rose’s room and using  her like a rag doll, throwing her about. It seemed to go on for hours. Maybe it was because I was so tired that I imagined all these crazy things and there I was sitting in the waiting room doing nothing to help Rose. My mind was going berserk and I was so tired!

I must have fallen asleep because around 7-00a.m. a Nurse was gently shaking me to wake up and gave me a cup of tea and told me, “Go home and watch out for the damage”. I looked in on Rose she was asleep, so I left.

The streets were like a war zone: trees uprooted, windows smashed, cars damaged and the silence. Everything was so still. I waited at the bus stop and went home.

Meanwhile, Ray’s plane had been diverted either to Stanstead or Gatwick, I can’t remember. All I know that when the plane landed on the airfield all the passengers had to hold onto one another to stop being blown away as they made their way across the field through to Immigration. So when he arrived at the flat, he too was shattered.

Winds battered the South of England in what was the worst storm to hit the country since 1703. Severe weather had been predicted before the Great Storm, as it later became known, hit the South of England in the early hours of October 16th, 1987.

That is what I remember of the Great Storm of 1987. Not a very happy memory!

 

How it all Began. “ericlindsay.wordpress.com.”

 This is how I met Andi Brooks and how my Blog began.

 

MR. ANDI BROOKS

Andi and me having coffee in Tokyo

Around the time of 1996 my Agent Jamie Phillips of Trends Management told me that an advertisement kept appearing in the Stage Newspaper looking for me, or asking maybe if I was alive or dead? No such luck, I was still alive and kicking!

As I had time to spare and no one to talk to, I telephoned to the gentleman who placed the advertisement. His name was Andi Brooks who lived in Bath. That is how we met. He came to London and interviewed me in August 1997 for his future book that he was co-author with Frank Dello Stritto called “Vampire Over London” the whole interview is somewhere on my Blog. Through that interview Andi and I became friends and kept in touch with one another even after the book was published in 2000, and what a beautiful book it is too.

All this time I would talk to him about various things that had happened to me and he was forever telling me that I should write about it. But I kept explaining to Andi that Ray when he was alive was the writer. I never wrote anything. Ray would write to my parents, write all our business letters, and sign important papers. He got it down to a fine art, he could even do my signature on cheques,(which I had no problem with) until one day the bank manager called me into his office to say that my signature on our joint bank account seemed to have changed. So I explained that I had sprained my wrist and found it difficult to write properly. I told Ray that when he wrote my name he had to take his time with it and that a scrawl just didn’t work. I couldn’t keep on going back to the bank manager with excuses. That was the trust we had in one another. I trusted him completely. So when Andi suggested that I should start a Blog it took a great deal of persuading  and convincing on his part over many, many  years for me to even contemplate it.

In the year of the millennium 2000 by chance I was appearing in “Aladdin” at the Theatre Royal, Brighton and had the pleasure of meeting Frank Dello Stritto and his wife, who came to a matinée of the Show, before they left for America for good and also arrange the publication of their book “Vampire Over London”. So strange because it was at the Theatre Royal, Brighton that “Dracula” opened in 1951 and the whole story started. This intrigued Frank completely, to believe that he was actually in the same Theatre.

“Vampire Over London” was an enormous success and has now gone into it’s 2nd. printing. The publication is such  excellent quality.

Well over the years Andi and I kept in touch, he told me that he had married a Japanese student named Kyoko and later they went off to live in Tokyo, Japan. All this time we kept in touch, and he was forever urging me to write a Blog about what I had done over the years. He explained that he would set it up for me with WordPress.com and do all my editing in fact the whole caboodle. In fact he has been faithful to his word and encouraged me 100% to write. I didn’t think I could do it, and I wasn’t sure that what I had to say would interest anybody. But the proof is in the pudding and “ericlindsay.wordpress.com” came into being in 2012 and by some miracle it seems to be a success. I don’t understand why because really I can’t write, at least that’s what I tell myself, so it’s all thanks to Andi Brooks. Bless him!

Meeting up with Andi and Kyoko in the Coffee Shop in Tokyo.

On the 7^th of October 2016 I flew into Tokyo and met up with Andi, who I hadn’t seen since our first meeting in London in August 1997.  Twenty years is a long time and we had plenty to talk about and we did non-stop. Later, Kyoko joined us and I had the pleasure of meeting her for the first time, and what a charming lady she is. Andi had done himself proud. To think of the young man who had interviewed me so many years back and now here he was with a full family.

 

What an amazing place Tokyo is, and I had two whole days to be with Andi and his family and talk. They also showed me part of Korean Town which was in the area of my hotel.

 

I was lucky enough to see a Geisha on the street.

 

Yui Brooks.

During the time that Andi has been living in Tokyo he has been blessed with a handsome son called Yui who is now 14yrs.old. Yui is a budding artist, and drew a quickie for me on my visit. I look a little beaten up, but it’s a great souvenir. He travels everywhere with his pencil and pad.

The top one certainly gives me a beaten up look.

Whilst I was there it was his birthday so I sent him a card in English.

YUI with his Birthday Card

 

Yui, me, Andi and Kyoko at Dinner.

Yui travels everywhere with his pencil and pad. He even took it with him when we had dinner together in a typical Japanese Restaurant.

 

Kyoko and Yui seeing my off at my Hotel.

Whilst I was there it was Yui’s Birthday, so I managed to find a card in English. The few days that I was in Tokyo I did no sight seeing whatsoever. I was just happy to spend all my time with Andi and his family. The happiness he has given me with my little Blog is amazing.

I have so much to thank him for, he has really given me a reason for carrying on.

 

YUI, HAPPY BIRTHDAY ONE YEAR LATER (a new photo which I have just received)

Me and my very good friend ANDI BROOKS.

 

Time to leave Tokyo, and goodbye to my friends.

A wonderful memory that I will treasure forever.