A nostalgia-soaked snap from the Gibcress File, an occasional series. Your then hirsute columnist borrowed Peter O’Toole’s binoculars, when he visited Edinburgh. No date but it’s no secret that it was post-Lawrence of Arabia.
The eight times Oscar-nominated Peter, who’ll hit 80 this year, is having his arm twisted by his publishers to complete his autobiography. Before it’s too late.
It’s been 40 years in the writing. The first two volumes were published in 1992 and 96, dealing with his life up to 1960.
Good news is that Peter has picked up his pen again – it’s when the mood takes him – and he’s several chapters into the final volume.
Apparently his handicap is that he writes in longhand. I well know the problem. What’s guaranteed is that it will be a roller coaster.
Hands up anybody who hasn’t seen Rio Bravo. So now we’ve cleared that up, we can gab about David Suchet. I’m something of a fan.
He’s got just five filmed stories left after 22 years playing the quirky sleuth. He’s cracking on at 65.
“There’s been talk about whether I’d be prepared to do stories that are not Christie’s Poirot. But I’m not going to do that,” he’s saying. “I want to do Agatha Christie’s Poirot.”
Thanks for clueing us up, Mr S.