Christopher biggins

Elizabeth Hurley deserves a damehood

With the boiling, broiling summer here in Provence now at an end, it’s time to start thinking about rehearsing for the tour of my one-woman show based on my new book, Behind the Shoulder Pads. The show opens in Newcastle next week. I’m looking forward to revisiting some of the places that I was evacuated to during the war. Cheltenham, for instance, where as a terrified six-year-old I had to start a strange new school all those years ago. In Brighton, I remember standing at the balustrade with my aunts, seeing the pebbled beach covered with barbed wire and wishing I could go swimming. It’s always fascinating to interact with

The revenge of the oldies

Entering my 54th day of quarantine, I recall how much I was looking forward to this spring in England. There were so many exciting events and celebrations planned. Several friends were throwing big birthday bashes; I was picking up a couple of awards, performing my one-woman show, going to Cannes, and most exciting of all, participating in a plethora of events surrounding the VE Day celebrations. All of the above have gone with the proverbial wind, except for, in a small way, the latter. The Queen’s Pageant Master, Bruno Peek, asked me if I could lead the nation’s toast to our heroes and heroines of the second world war. VE