Yes, a star. R.IP.
Saw her once, in one of those L.A. eateries where everyone affects a studied languidity. Everybody, be they household names or millionaires monguls, was staring in open awe at her table, which was of course the best in the house. She gave no sign she even noticed, must've been her kind of normal. Most extraordinarily coloured eyes. When Richard Burton died she came to the unpronounceable Welsh village near Port Talbot where she and Burton had stayed during their marriages at the terraced house he'd grown up in. " I couldn't quite believe it," said a neighbour, " but she seemed just like a normal person." Her plans for a quiet graveside contemplation were rather spoilt by the legions of press and cameramen who followed her every move.
In later years, she grew very familiar with drink and particularly opiate-based painkillers. Although studio-insulated from harsh reality from the age of 8, she was a sucker for every charity that touched her heart. A gay icon, she was a tireless benfactoress of AIDs charities.
We won't see her like again. Sadly missed.
