and with thanks
What I really mean is, the beginning of the rest of my life. I never had to buy a ticket to go on this voyage around the world, and when I started I had no idea that the first stop for reflection would be here in Monaco, in July 2008. Quite honestly, I’m glad of the rest. I’ve had time to reflect on the people and events that made it all possible. I’ve examined my true feelings and had a chance to remember those steps I shared with some; the laughs and tears I shared with others. I’ve said goodbye to so many and written far too many letters of condolence.
Like my friend Max Adrian, I’ve thought of what I didn’t do, and regretted some of the things I did do. I’ve been thankful for the great fortune in my private and professional life, and the exceptional people I’ve met along the way: Nelson Mandela, who put his arm around Kristina’s shoulder in the UN; Bill and Melinda Gates, again at the UN, who said they’d thought they would leave their philanthropic activities until they were in their sixties, but then they realized that the children cannot wait; the hundreds of dedicated UNICEF staff, the volunteers and the other NGOs in the field, all giving their skills–and lives–for the needy.
There have been so many people I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to, but I do have the memories and, shutting my eyes, sometimes I see their faces. Among them, great minds and talented writers, Bill Buckley and his wife Pat, James Clavell, David Niven–who didn’t lend me the title of my voyage, I took it–Charlie Isaacs, darling Audrey Hepburn, Sir Peter Ustinov, my other actor friends Bob Brown, Bernie Lee, Francis Albert Sinatra, Cary Grant, Gregory Peck, Milton Berle, Red Buttons, Leslie Norman, Laurence Harvey, Mary and John Mills. Then there were associates, as well as friends, Cubby Broccoli and Dana, Harry Saltzman, Peter Hunt, Michael Klinger, Lew Grade, his brothers Leslie and Bernie, David Tebet, Gordon Douglas, Irving Rapper, Helmut Newton, Marvin Davis, Richard Cohen, Oscar Lerman and this year a tailor, a friend, a tennis partner and an all-round good bloke, Doug Hayward. Last but not least, I reflect fondly on a lady who was a friend of Dot Squires and also of my parents, the mother of the very talented composer Ernie Dunstall and one of the funniest women in the world, my dear departed friend Floss Dunstall. Lord, how she made us laugh.
Big regrets? That I never had the chance to know Kristina’s parents and I never got to know my Aunts Lily, Nelly, Isabel, Amy, Uncle Jack and cousin Bob better–they will never have the chance to read this. Maybe Mum and Dad will be able to tell them about it and not tut-tut too much over some of the bad language. I am sorry for some of the heartache I have given, for the occasional lapse in good manners and any debt I didn’t repay.
There are many people to thank for making this book possible, not least the kind producers who have employed me in the past and who might still do in the future. To the directors, the writers, my co-stars, the stuntmen, in particular Martin Grace, and all the crews I have worked with, I offer my wholehearted thanks for making this boy from Stockwell look like a hero.
I would also like to thank: Gareth Owen for sprinkling some literacy on to my recollections; Lesley Pollinger and all at Pollinger Limited; Michael O’Mara and all of his team; my lovely editor Louise Dixon; Bruce Nichols and everyone at Collins; Dan Strone of Trident Media Group in New York; my long-time business partner Bob Baker; Johnny Goodman; Harry Myers; Dave Worrall and Lee Pfeiffer at www.cinemaretro.com; Jaz Wiseman at www.itc-classics.com; my long-time assistant and friend Doris Spriggs; Barbara Broccoli and Michael Wilson at Eon Productions; Andrew Boyle; Ann and David Blackmer and the Kiwanis; Ann Veneman; Dheepa Pandian; Mary Cahill; Fran Silverberg; Christa Roth; and everyone at UNICEF.
I would like also to thank the doctors who have kept me going over the last eighty years: Dr Desmond Hall, my GP in Gerrards Cross; Dr Trevor Hudson, my GP in London; Dr Camel, my GP in St Paul de Vence; Barry Savory, who kept my back from collapsing; Selvyn Bleifer, my cardiologist in Beverly Hills; Steven Evans, my cardiologist in NYC; Darryl Hoffman MD, my cardiothoracic surgeon, who put in the pacemaker with the good batteries; Dr Bourlon, my cardiologist in Monaco; Dr Nabil Sharara my GP in Monaco; Dr Simsbler my dermatologist in Monaco; Dr Gilkes London, the dermatologist who burns off the bits that might have escaped the eagle eye of Dr Simsbler; Dr Ariane Kunz, my GP in Crans Montana; Rick Erlich, my urologist in Los Angeles; and, of course, Stevo, Dr Zax, of Beverly Hills. Also, though I can’t remember seeing his face, my proctologist Dr Frielich in Beverly Hills (I promise I did not make up the name). Dr Singh in the ER room at the Roosevelt Hospital in NYC–he diagnosed the problem with my ticker–and Michael Mcnamara, a brilliant radiologist in Monaco.
I told you I was a hypochondriac!