Tony Curtis had come to visit my Playboy next-door neighbour, Victor Lownes, and had been with him for about a week.
Aldbury villagers were excited about his visit, the first from a really famous film star!
Most of us kept an eagle eye out for any handsome stranger in the Village shop in the hope it might be him. We were all disappointed when he didn’t show up though, especially when rumour had it he had returned to the States to start a new film.
Resigned to missing out we relaxed and forgot about him. After all there would soon be someone else coming, as Victor had a stream of interesting and famous people staying at his new home next door to me, along the road at Stocks House.
Coming out of the bridle path alongside my house one morning with Argos, my Labrador at my side, I saw a very large chestnut horse being ridden extremely carelessly, and in my view somewhat dangerously, by a man coming down Stocks Road, on his way to the village.
His feet were dangling out of the stirrups, the rein was very loose on the horse’s neck and to make matters worse there was a lighted cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth.
I put my hand up indicating he should Stop.
I was Chairman of the local Riding Club and we were forever urging our members to ride with great care especially on the road, present a smart appearance and look in control.
"Ho," I thought ‘I am going to have to reprimand this vulgar character for violating all our rules and lowering standards…’
As he stopped I suddenly realised not only did he look vaguely familiar but was wearing a cowboy hat, a sartorial choice rarely seen on any of the many riders around our village.
I was about to take him to task for his shoddy horsemanship, when he took off his hat and smiled at me.
“Hi there ma’m,” he said “so you’re Victor's neighbour…” he smiled lazily at me, replaced his hat and raised his hand in salute. “See you at Stocks, sometime. Nice dog you have there…nearly the same colour as your hair.”
With that he gently squeezed the horse with his heels urging him to move on, turned and gave me a glance from bright blue eyes as he went. He smiled again, ‘See you around.’
His horse walked on, the man sat in the saddle as if he was born there, feet still dangling, cigarette still in his mouth.
They both disappeared round the corner past the Recreation field. It took me a moment to register that it was unmistakeably Tony Curtis, just as tanned, handsome and charismatic as everyone imagined.
My mouth was still open, words of reprimand hovering on the tip of my tongue, never to be uttered.
I learnt that he was flying back to the States that evening to be in a new film.
I felt like a teenager, filled with adulation, admiration and awe. The films I had seen flitted through my mind, pausing on ‘Some Like it Hot’ with Marilyn Monroe. I thought he was a talented actor, if underrated at that time.
(As I read the announcement of his death today, I was filled with a sense of loss. An era past its sell by date but to be looked back on with warmth.
‘He was an OK guy.’ As Victor would have said.)
