Free There's Something I've Been Dying to Tell You by Lynda Bellingham

of a story of a young woman who was suffering from bowel cancer and said she almost wished she had breast cancer because it got so much more press attention because somehow it was seen as sexier. She received a good deal of flak for those comments but I understand completely where she was coming from as bowel cancer is so difficult to talk about or present in an attractive way. Yet more people die of bowel cancer than they do from breast cancer, can you believe?
    I am hoping to start campaigning for Justin Stebbing’s charity Action Against Cancer, I have already worked with Macmillan Cancer Care in the past because my cousin was a Macmillan nurse, and I have done some work for Marie Curie Cancer Care as Jane Cotton, a charity worker I was close to, worked with them. It is only now that I have so much more knowledge of the whole set up that it has become clear to me that the most important, really the most vital, problem is raising money for research. That is the beginning and end of cracking these diseases.
    So over the following months I spent a good deal of the days answering all these wonderful letters, many from the readers of Yours magazine for whom I write a fortnightly column. I also received mountains of flowers – some from people I had not seen for years. I could not believe that word can spread so fast. I could have adopted a serious and expensive habit of having fresh flowers every day in my flat. I loved it. The door would ring and there would be another bouquet. Thank you again to everyone for your kindness and generosity, you made an old woman very happy!
    I had been starting to write my second novel, The Boy I Love , which is all about a band of actors in the early 1980s. It was due for delivery in October, but it was proving slightly more difficult than I had anticipated as I was not 100 per cent. My usual practice of getting up at five and writing until noon was a struggle. It was also apparent to me that I was writing a book which opens with a bright optimistic young actress setting out full of hope on her first job in the theatre. This was not my state of mind, and I had to keep reminding myself to be happy. Mind over matter again you see?
    It was slowly coming together and helped by various outings away from home, like our visit to Bosham to see Mr and Mrs Albert Finney. A few years ago I appeared as a wicked widow in a series for ITV called My Uncle Silas , starring Albert Finney. I make no bones about my admiration for this amazing actor and I was so thrilled to get to work with him. He has two films that people will recognise him for: Tom Jones , a fantastic film made in 1963, and the second is a more recent one – James Bond fans will know him from his performance as Bond’s oldest friend and guardian of the family home in Scotland in Skyfall . Of course he is one of our greatest British actors and he was first discovered from RADA in the 1960 film Saturday Night and Sunday Morning , but there have been so many since including Erin Brockovich , Annie , and a wonderful rendering of Hercule Poirot in Murder on the Orient Express . He is just a lovely man and his wife Pene is also gorgeous. She was a great friend of a mutual friend, Sally Bulloch, who was the entertainments manager at the glorious Athenaeum Hotel.
    So I had rung Pene Finney and all but invited ourselves down to visit. They could not accommodate us as they had a dear friend visiting, who I also knew well from the old days, called Julian Holloway. Julian is the son of actor Stanley Holloway, and had moved to Los Angeles and had a successful career there. Julian and Albert were very old sparring partners, and ardent cricket fans, and according to Pene glued to the television coverage of the cricket, so she was delighted we could come and give her moral support.
    She suggested we stay at The Richmond Arms in West Ashling. I rang immediately only to be disappointed. They could not do the Friday night but Saturday was free so we booked