Freud and forbearance: Julie Andrews on her ‘practically perfect’ life
After a tumultuous upbringing and family fallouts, psychotherapy was her saviour, she says
“Everybody sends their love,” I tell Dame Julie Andrews, as though I am representing the human race as a whole, putting a large bunch of pink roses into her arms, because a star is a star is a star.
The roses crackle in their cellophane. “How beautiful, how lovely,” she says. We only have 15 minutes so it’s a case of spit-spot. She stands before me in dove-grey jersey tunic and trousers, still brimming with the quick-witted moral energy we all know from Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music.
Dame Julie, 84, is in London to promote the second volume of her autobiography, Home Work, a beautifully written, charming and candid memoir of her Hollywood years, filled with behind-the-scenes peril and pranks...