One summer Saturday afternoon, John and I were sitting outside the bungalow having a snack, when we noticed a sixty-something lady who looked a little like Katharine Hepburn cycling up our drive. It was Katharine Hepburn: 'I'm staying with Bryan Forbes - he said it would be OK if I used your pool.' John and I just nodded, dumbstruck. Five minutes later, she reappeared in a swimsuit, complaining there was a dead frog in the pool. When I dithered about how to get it out. I'm a bit squeamish about things like that - she just jumped in and grabbed it with her hand. I asked her how she could bear to touch it.
'Character, young man,' she nodded sternly.
E.H. John, Me (2019), 96-7
