Gyles Brandreth’s Diary

Peter taught me how to live – and die

The great actor was on top form as he faced the final curtain

Over the years, I have noticed how courageous and good-humoured people can be in the face of death. Twenty-four hours before he died, aged 45, the actor Simon Cadell – star of Hi-de-Hi and my best friend from school – looked up at me from his bed in the Harley Street Clinic, whispered ‘Cheerio, old chum,’ grinned and gave me a double thumbs-up.

Not long before she died of cancer, aged 66, the actress and Oxo-ad mum, Lynda Bellingham, telephoned me to say, ‘It’s all fine. I’m ready to go. Don’t worry, be happy – I am.’

And just recently, a month before he died of cancer on St Patrick’s Day, my wife and I had lunch at a local restaurant with our friend and neighbour, the actor Peter Bowles, and his wife, Sue.

Peter, 85, had known he was terminally ill for many months and had endured the consequent pain and treatment with heroic stoicism and matchless grace, maintaining his elegant, slightly raffish appearance to the last.

Over lunch – ‘I can’t taste a thing,’ he said, smiling. ‘Side effect of the chemo’ – he told some of his favourite stories about some of his favourite actors: Olivier, Michael Gambon, Albert Finney.

‘You’re in chipper form,’ I said.

‘Well,’ he confided, ‘I’ve just been to the undertakers – good people, very helpful – and I’ve got it all sorted.’

He went on his own to arrange his own funeral and was surprised to learn from the undertaker that it wasn’t an unknown phenomenon.

‘I liked them,’ he said, ‘You should use them – when the time comes.’

Lunch over, we came out into the spring sunshine and watched Sue and Peter, arm in arm, walking away, wonderfully upright, brilliantly brave.

As they reached the corner, Peter turned back to give us a farewell salute with his silver-topped cane. It was the cane he used when he played Sir Anthony Absolute in The Rivals at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket.

A lovely man, he had style as well as substance. He showed us how to live and taught us how to die.

Peter and Sue Bowles were married for 61 years. Michael Denison and Dulcie Gray were another theatrical couple who enjoyed a long and successful marriage. They were together for 59 years. Michael (1915-98) is best remembered for playing Algernon in the famous film of The Importance of Being Earnest. Dulcie (1915-2011), as well as being an actress, wrote murder mysteries and was an authority on butterflies.

I recall first seeing the two of them on-stage in Alice Through the Looking-Glass at the Palace Theatre in the King’s Road, Chelsea, at Christmas in 1955. (It was built as a variety theatre in 1903 and demolished to make way for Heal’s department store in the 1960s.) They played the White Knight and the Red Queen and were eccentrically amusing.

My wife and I got to know them in the late 1960s: they were delightful. Not necessarily very exciting as performers – in the profession Dulcie Gray was nicknamed ‘Gracie Dull’ – but dependable. And decent. And devoted to each other. Dulcie told us that when Michael heard that his cancer was terminal, he dressed himself in his very best suit to break the news to her.

Is it just actors who handle these things so well?

In the wake of the murder of Sir David Amess MP, the town of Southend, which he had represented for many years, was given the status of a city, and the other day the Prince of Wales went to Essex to do the honours on behalf of the Queen – which reminded me of the old story of another royal honour bestowed on another English seaside town.

You will recall that when Prince Charles’s great-grandfather, George V, died in 1936, the rumour quickly circulated that His Majesty’s final words were ‘Bugger Bognor!’, apparently muttered in response to one of his doctors, who had tried to lift his spirits by suggesting that he would soon be well enough to convalesce at his favourite seaside resort.

I prefer the version of the story set in 1929. The King is recovering from a bout of ill health and is about to leave Bognor. A deputation from the town council comes to call on His Majesty, both to pay their respects and to ask that the town might in future be known as Bognor Regis. The request is conveyed to the sovereign by his private secretary, Lord Stamfordham. ‘Bugger Bognor!’ says the King. The private secretary returns to the delegation: ‘His Majesty is touched by your request and graciously pleased to accede to it.’

Adieu, old friend: Peter and Sue Bowles

Gyles’s Odd Boy Out is out now (Michael Joseph)