Elsie & Doris Waters' Page
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"Aren't we all?" 1 - Mrs. Stanley Holloway
Total runing time 61 minutes 31 seconds These tracks are taken direct from 78 rpm records and in order to maintain the authentic sound, have not been engineered in any way. |
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Not available |
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Stephen Dixon writes:
When I knew them in the 1970s, the sisters lived in a large bungalow near Steyning in Sussex. There was a huge
picture window in the living-room, looking out onto gorgeous countryside. They called the view their Constable
painting. The first time we met I had been sent by The Guardian to interview them and when I arrived after a long
journey - I lived near Manchester - Elsie and Doris refused to do the interview until they had cooked me a meal
of smoked haddock. "You look very peaky," said Elsie. "We can't talk until you have a proper meal
inside you."
As that story shows, they were the loveliest women: charming, humorous, gracious, considerate. We kept in touch
over the years after that first meeting, and they always seemed to be flatteringly interested in my comparatively
mundane life, rather like two kindly distant aunties. They sent little gifts when my children were born, and wrote
that they would bring them luck.
Elsie and Doris lived in semi-retirement, and seemed to be quite well-off. They would do the occasional nostalgia
show, but weren't pushed unless they felt a project was right for them. They had an odd attitude to their brother,
the actor Jack Warner, and didn't like to talk about him. I mentioned that he was doing his one-man show, in which
he told stories and impersonated Maurice Chevalier, near where I lived. "Silly old fool," they said.
"At his age!"
On another occasion, I went to Steyning with a photographer, and had the wonderful experience of watching Elsie
and Doris transform themselves into Gert and Daisy for the pictures, sorting out their old hats and other props
and getting into character at the kitchen table. I still have copies of those pictures: Daisy reading the tea-leaves
while Gert stares into the cup with amazement. I saw their famous Cockney gossips come to life in front of my eyes
in that kitchen, and I felt privileged.
The last time I met them was a few years later, and the occasion was sadder. Elsie was as bright and bubbly as
ever, but Doris was subdued and said very little. I realised she had suffered a stroke or some other debilitating
illness, and Elsie was 'covering' and filling-in for her - finishing sentences Doris found hard to articulate and
trying to make it seem natural. They obviously wanted to give the impression that everything was normal, so of
course I respected that and said nothing. They were proud women with great natural dignity.
Shortly afterwards Doris died. I wrote to Elsie expressing my sorrow. I wrote that Doris would always be remembered
with laughter, and that was a fine epitaph. I asked Elsie not to reply at all if she didn't feel up to it but in
fact she did - three hand-written pages saying how much Doris had meant to her as a sister and partner.
Now my comment about being remembered with laughter applies to them both - and thank goodness we can still experience
their insightful, quirky, unpatronising humour through the handful of movies they made in the 1940s, and the many
fine recordings of their songs and routines.