There's Something I've Been Dying to Tell You (11 page)

Part of being the King and Queen for the day also involved an amazing massage in the spa. We were put in a bath under a kind of awning and washed. The water was very green but smelled wonderful! We were then led, wrapped in our cotton wraps of many colours, to a room full of light with two beds next to each other. We were made to lie down and we each had a gorgeous handmaiden who proceeded to scrub us, oil us, pound us and moisturise us. I felt like a piece of fillet steak! We both tried to make conversation but as the session went on we both drifted into the wonderful world of sleep. Michael insisted I woke him with my snoring and I retaliated with the same accusation. We both snored according to our lovely girls who found all our squabbling hilarious. Having had our massage we were then taken back to the bath in the garden and left to sit in water full of flower petals until I began to feel a little wrinkled. I did not want to rise up from the water resembling an ugly fruit!

We were then left to dry ourselves and given fresh wraps. We left the spa after three hours of pampering and wandered back to our villa in a haze of sweet smelling oils. I think we virtually passed out that night we were so relaxed.

After ten days we left Tanjong Jara and drove back to Kuala Lumpur where we took a plane to the west of the island, and then another drive to the coast where we boarded a motor launch to take us to Pangkor Laut. It was very hot, and all this travelling was not ideal, but YTL, the company who ran the whole organisation, just had it down pat. Every detail was perfect. The car was spacious and air conditioned with water ready for our consumption.

We arrived at the landing stage and checked in, so the spa would know we would be arriving soon. A lovely air-conditioned waiting room with a cooling cocktail greeted us as we waited for our luggage to be loaded onto the motor launch, and the ride itself across the bay was exhilarating with the wind in our hair and the dramatic coastline of Malaysia in our sights. As we approached the island the huge trees and palms towered over us and the hills filled the sky, it was very impressive. The boat arrived at a long jetty and we followed the porter towards a beautiful, almost colonial-style porch and front desk. Acres of marble floors, huge pillars and enormous white sofas were the order of the day. There were no walls so there was a soft breeze lifting the voile drapes and whispering in the foliage that adorned huge plant pots. I was in heaven.

We were greeted by a beautiful young lady, immaculately dressed in a linen suit, who spoke perfect English. After all of our details had been taken she took us through a few of the amenities, none of which I could remember afterwards – I always find that happens, and wonder, am I the only guest who nods inanely as the receptionist carefully explains what is on offer? Anyway there was plenty of time for us to discover the delights of the island for ourselves later.

We were escorted to a buggy and driven to a jetty further down the beach. We then walked across the wooden walkway, with the sparkling turquoise sea below us, towards our villa which was rising out of the water to greet us. The porter opened the door and I just gasped, it was so perfect. There was a huge bedroom with a door leading onto a veranda looking out to sea and the islands beyond. The bathroom had a huge bath by a window which opened to the sea and everything was rattan or bamboo with rather beautiful wood furniture in the bedroom. The bed was huge and covered in flowers and there was a welcome note addressed to Michael and Lynda which was a nice touch and a clever sell too, don’t you think? Everywhere we went in the hotel and spa the staff always greeted us by our first names. The very first morning as we walked to breakfast staff smiled and waved saying,

‘Good morning, Lynda and Michael.’

‘How do they know our names?’ I whispered to Michael over breakfast.

We asked one of the waiters who laughed and replied, ‘When you arrive at the boat house to take the launch we take your photo and then you are pinned on a wall and every day the staff have to study the photos and learn all the names of the guests.’ I think that is incredibly impressive if not a little scary!

We quickly fell into the old routine from the first part of our holiday and I would rise early and write for a couple of hours then Michael and I would walk to the restaurant. The restaurant was a lovely stroll along the walkway then through some of the gardens, and finally we would arrive at the main restaurant which served absolutely everything you could possibly imagine and from every corner of the earth. Chinese breakfast specialities such as boiled fish and noodles stood alongside porridge and cream, or a full English fry up, it was fascinating. I would then return to the villa to write and Michael would set off to the spa. He would return a few hours later smelling like a curry, wrapped in a tie-dyed sarong, looking as if he had been smoking something naughty because he was not on the planet, he was so relaxed!

I loved every day spent there. We ate sushi some nights, and there was an incredible Chinese restaurant built in a tree which served food like I have never tasted before. Our wedding anniversary and my birthday arrived and our bed was covered in garlands and good wishes. We had a beach dinner on the sea shore watching the sun go down, and then we walked back in the moonlight. The moon was so huge and so bright which was just as well, as we suddenly encountered an enormous monitor lizard on our walk way. He looked at us, and we looked at him, and nobody moved. I shushed him rather pathetically and he started towards us.

‘Help!’ I squeaked. ‘Michael, do something.’

‘Like what,’ whispered my beloved. ‘He is bloody enormous!’ And he was about twelve foot long, like a small dragon, and not friendly.

We must have looked so pathetic standing there in the moonlight in our glad rags, waving our arms about. Fortunately they have members of the staff patrolling at night and a very nice young man came and moved the lizard on. It waddled away and slipped into the water silently. Phew!

It was the most memorable holiday because I used all the emotions I went through in that beautiful place in
Tell Me Tomorrow
. The holiday also served as a reminder of how lucky I was to get another crack at a relationship aged sixty, which is when Michael married me. We have actually been together now for ten years this November and I have never known time go by so fast. Sometimes during these last few months I have marvelled at how deceptive time can be. A minute can last for hours and an hour passes in a minute. I have tried to grasp each moment and savour it because, although it is such a cliché, it is so true that we just do not appreciate what we have, and we must learn – I must learn – to live in the moment, especially now that I know my time is limited.

In a way living in the moment is what one does on a holiday, I think. We take these precious moments and keep them close, often capturing them in a photo or a film, but for me it is keeping them in my heart that really counts. Writing now about Pangkor Laut, I can smell the flowers in the room and taste the sushi on my tongue, it is so vivid to me.

The other holiday we have had more recently was a trip to Lake Como. I am a huge fan of George Clooney and we were joking one day about how wonderful it would be if, as part of my bucket list, I could visit Lake Como and bump into George and persuade him to let me play a cameo role in one of his films. I would even be happy with a non-speaking part in a Nespresso commercial if I could sit on his lap! I do not have a bucket list as it happens, as I am too busy enjoying what is around me, but still it prompted us to get out and do something and we booked to go to Lake Como.

I love reading travel brochures and will always manage to find the most glamorous, and usually most expensive, locations in the world. Como was no exception. I knew there was an incredible hotel on the edge of the lake called the Villa d’Este.

‘Just ring and see how much it is,’ I said to Michael, as we were surfing the net for a hotel.

‘I already have,’ he replied with a sigh. ‘It is fifteen hundred euros a night without breakfast.’

‘Oh that is outrageous,’ I exclaimed. ‘No breakfast? We can’t possibly go there!’

I love to dream, but we did find a beautiful hotel in Bellagio called The Belvedere which was like a sort of baby cousin to the Villa d’Este, with sloping lawns down to a lovely pool and garden rooms with balconies looking across the lake. Sadly, they had all gone and we could only get a room at the back, but it didn’t matter though, we made the best of it, and it was a very pleasant hotel and the staff were fantastic.

We would walk ten minutes into Bellagio and be transported back hundreds of years. The buildings were painted in all those wonderful Mediterranean colours of ochre and bull’s blood. The tiny church with its solitary bell chimed across the rooftops. It was heaven. The first shop we hit as we walked into the town was a
pasticerria
and the smell of fresh pastries filled with almond paste and coated in vanilla powder was out of this world. My dream was always to have a place eventually in Italy or the South of France, where I could sit outside and people watch. Mornings would be a cappuccino and a pastry, and afternoon, or early evening, would be a glass of wine and toasted almonds. Not much to ask is it really?

So every day we would walk into the town, stopping for a coffee and pastry and then continue down the narrowest cobbled streets, filled to bursting with the most gorgeous shops imaginable. Oh dear, it was torture for me. I could have spent thousands of pounds on jewellery, bags and shoes and paintings and all sorts. Michael wouldn’t let me go into town on my own! One day we were in one of these amazing boutiques and the beautiful Italian lady who was serving me asked me if I was famous.

‘Not really,’ I said, ‘Though I am quite well known on the TV in England.’

She was very excited because one of her customers, who was English, had recognised me and told her I was an actress. They love actresses in Italy, they are like royalty. Well, I became a local celebrity because she then told the lady in the cake shop who told the man in the pizzeria and suddenly I was greeted in the streets by complete strangers shaking my hand. I loved it!

I did keep asking if anyone knew George, and they had all seen him at some point in the town but no one knew him well enough to make the introductions for me. Near the little port where all the ferries came in was a huge hotel with a vast balcony full of tables covered in perfect white linen. It was obviously the place to be in the town, and almost every day as we passed there was a wedding going on with beautiful people filling the terrace with music and laughter. Apparently it is the hotel where all the cast of
Ocean’s Eleven
stayed, and it was on that very terrace that George copped his first eyeful of Lake Como and thought ‘This is for me’. And who can blame him?

Sue Latimer and her husband Edward flew out the night before my birthday on 31 May to join us in celebrating. It was also our wedding anniversary, as I keep mentioning. The reason I keep mentioning it, dear reader, is because it is a bit of a sticky point between Michael and myself. When we got married we decided my birthday was a good date to settle on, as that way I would never forget my wedding anniversary. The problem was that after sixty years of waking up thinking it’s my birthday it is hard to re-programme the brain to include a wedding anniversary too. Michael takes all these occasions very seriously and was appalled when we woke up in Venice one year and he presented me with two cards, one for each occasion, and I gave him nothing at all! I forgot, and I know I am selfish and awful but I did just forget. I have learned my lesson well, though, and now I am always ahead of the game. I carry the cards around with me as we approach the date just in case I get caught short! This time we had a great dinner for the celebrations and I had ordered a cake for Michael.

We made some lovely friends, Ken and Cindy, who hailed from Southern California and were wine buffs. Michael thought he had died and gone to heaven as they took him through the joys of Montepulciano! We started chatting one morning as we all sheltered from a shower or two. Coffee turned into lunch, which turned into dinner and we had a ball. The next day they invited us to join them for dinner in a local restaurant near the apartment they had rented. Ken also wanted us to do a bit of wine tasting.

When we arrived at the apartment there were six bottles lined up! He sat us down and presented us with a platter of delicious Italian salami and introduced us to truffle honey. He put a little smear on his salami and told us to follow suit. It was out of this world. What a taste sensation. The four of us then tasted the six bottles with no trouble at all. I cannot believe I sat there and sipped away with the rest of them. My poor digestive system went into overdrive!

Having decided that we were incredibly lucky to find ourselves in such a fruitful wine growing region, with so much to choose from, we descended to the restaurant. We sat in front of a window which ran the length of the restaurant. The view across the lake to the mountains the other side was breathtaking. As the sun went down we watched huge black rolling clouds spread out over the horizon like a velvet cloak. Lightning streaked down onto the water and the thunder followed, crashing like a rolling kettle drum in an orchestra. It was nature at her best, giving us a spectacle I would never forget. Meanwhile we ate superb pasta and Ken ordered a magnum of red wine. Yes, a magnum. It arrived with great ceremony at the table in a beautiful wooden box which was duly opened with great reverence and decanted into a fluted glass decanter. I looked across the table at Michael and raised an eyebrow. This was going to cost a fortune and we couldn’t let Ken pay for it all! When the bill arrived Ken very firmly insisted on paying, and we left feeling very guilty but full of a warm glow of red wine. The next day we made enquiries and found another rather special eatery down by the lake near our hotel. This time it was Michael’s turn to order the wine. He asked Ken about the magnum the previous night and confessed that we were feeling so guilty about all the expense.