![]() In yet another tribute to Miss Collins's vitality, she dances and even fences her way through the show while Moira Lister plays her mother despite being a mere 10 years her senior. The play, originally called Moon Over Buffalo, was renamed after it emerged that British audiences would not realise that Buffalo was a city in America as well as a large horned animal. It is directed by Ray Cooney, the writer and director currently enjoying a surprise success with Caught in the Net, his sequel to Run for Your Wife. The play, which is a backstage comedy about a tatty production of Noel Coward's play Private Lives, opens next Monday at the Old Vic after weeks in Guildford and Bath. She is appearing alongside Frank Langella, the American stage and screen veteran and the former partner of Whoopi Goldberg, in the British premiere of Ken Ludwig's Over the Moon, which was a hit for Carol Burnett on Broadway six years ago. The former Dynasty star is maintaining her reputation as the best preserved 68-year-old in the business in a breathtaking, thigh-slapping, swash-buckling costume. Judith Viorst is the author of many books for adults and children.With London theatres suffering a crisis, the foot-and-mouth outbreak being followed by the terror attacks in America, who better than to make her first appearance on a London stage for a decade than Joan Collins? I'm giving some thought, however, to taking up ice-skating. "Except when it was Sunday and she had to go back to Michigan." I decided not to ask if that made her cry. "So how was your weekend with your grandma?" I asked Olivia. This granny has purple-streaked hair and is really cool. This granny always buys them lavish presents. It's embarrassing to be secretly assessing the assets of our competition. Now, it's embarrassing to admit to such ungenerous feelings. Yes, fond though we may be of the other granny, and glad though we may be that she loves our grandchildren, and resigned though we may be that they love her back, we are hoping they love us more. But then I'd have to acknowledge that the tears being shed aren't theirs - they're mine.)Ĭompetition for Most Adored Grandmother seriously heats up when grandmothers compete for the affections of the same grandchildren. (I, too, could claim that tears have been shed when I've said goodbye to my Colorado grandchildren, Bryce and Miranda. I'm also hoping to win in the Most Adored Grandmother category, though I'm finding it hard to one-up my friend Irene, who tells me that her grandkids stand sobbing by the door at the end of her visits, pleading with her as she heads for the airport, "Don't go. Olivia, four months older than Nathaniel, listened to him holler for a while and then declaimed, from her vastly superior fund of life experience, "Nathaniel, in this world, things aren't always what they seem." I rest my case. Nathaniel had proudly printed his version of the short form of telephone - FONE - on a piece of paper, and when Olivia crossed it out and wrote PHONE, he was cranky, insisting that her weird spelling was wrong. ![]() I, for instance, wasn't able to counter Ellen's report with my own Smartest in Art grandchild story, but with a deft segue I shifted the category to Most Profound, recalling the morning that my Olivia and her cousin Nathaniel were playing word games. And if another grandmother is one-upping us in the extraordinary contest, we one-up right back. Nor have most of the grandmothers I know.Įven if we are known to be basically modest, even if, as mothers, we refrained from shamelessly bragging about our kids, we grandmothers feel entitled to inform the world that our grandchildren are not merely extraordinary but … the most extraordinary. A better person than I would surely eschew such competitive feelings. This is not a nice emotion to experience. Grandchildren bring out the "best" in grandparents.
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