“Why am I so good at playing bitches? I think it’s because I’m not a bitch. Maybe that’s why Miss Crawford always plays ladies.”
Bette or Joan? Bette or Joan? I am increasingly obsessed with both of them and just can’t decide who I like best. At the moment Bette has a slight edge because of her bad behaviour, but I’m increasingly loving Joan’s obsessive compulsiveness…
Just back from a whirlwind tour of Buckinghamshire and Essex with the National Rail system in Britain charging me the equivalent of a Eurostar fare to Paris just to nip in and out of London a bit. Grrr. Still, it was lovely seeing my parents, spending time with Laurel and seeing the fabulous Rita.
It’s been a while since we sat and guzzled four bottles of wine between us. Orson was there for the spaghetti then at some point Rita yelled, “Piss off to bed Orson, I have important things to discuss with my friend”, and he duly did. The conversation did take a very serious turn – which is unlike us – but the next morning we were back on form despite Rita’s rotten hangover. I had taken her some Bette Davis Marmalade which we had on toast as a restorative. “Like honey,” she observed, it is indeed rather runny…
She told me all about Mike Leigh rummaging through her kitchen cupboards, how she once saw Bette Davis in Croyden and that she went to the cinema to see “Mommie Dearest” with her mother. All things which made me laugh out loud. The post arrived as she was taking some Nurofen for her hangover and in a bizarre co-incidence it was a cheque for £180 from my nemesis ex-boss for the use of some of Rita’s home movies.
Later when she kissed me goodbye at the door I said I hoped her hangover wouldn’t last all day and she said, “Oh I’m fine. I feel a lot better since that cheque arrived.”
