Actress Sheila Hancock says we should thank veterans by making ‘a better world'
Actress Dame Sheila Hancock has said we must thank veterans by 'making sure that we make a better world' ahead of the Victory in Europe (VE) Day 80 concert.
The 92-year-old English actress who starred in EastEnders and sitcoms including The Rag Trade, Mr Digby Darling and Now, Take My Wife, was evacuated as a child during the Second World War.
Dame Sheila is due to appear at the VE Day concert on Thursday, alongside Dames Joan Collins and Mary Berry, to lend their voices in commemoration of the Second World War and pay tribute to those who served and sacrificed.
Speaking on The One Show, Dame Sheila said: 'I pray that now, rather than looking back and thanking the veterans, we thank them by making sure it doesn't happen again, and making sure that we make a better world, the only way we are going to solve the huge problems that we have in the world is to unite, love and care for one another worldwide, not within the country.
'That is the greatest gift that we can give for the lovely people who gave their lives for us.'
The English actress is best known for her roles on the stage and has taken home an Olivier for Cabaret as well as received Bafta nods for thriller The Russian Bride and sitcom Bedtime.
She has also been nominated for a Tony Award for the play Entertaining Mr Sloane.
Dame Sheila added: 'I was evacuated as well at one stage. So how they (Sheila's parents) allowed a seven-year-old child to go away with a label on her? I ran away and I came back. But I mean, it was, it was a terrible time for everybody, and we must never forget, the war is absolutely dreadful.
'The thing I remember, and I generally do remember this, my dad kissed my mum on the forehead. And I don't know whether that was because they were saying, 'Thank God these last few years are over', or whether he was sort of saying, 'We've got to have the strength now to build up again where destitute, the whole place is ruined, and we have to build a new world'. I don't know. But I mean, people didn't kiss, they didn't hold one another in those days, for us kids, it was wonderful.
'(My Dad) said to me, 'Sheila, this must never happen again. And it's down to you'. That's rather what I feel that we need to say to this generation, it's not all lovely parties in the street, it's not all jubilation.
'It's down to you to change this world.'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Daily Mirror
2 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
'Most hated city in Europe' where Brits love to go on holiday
Benidorm is one of Europe's most popular holiday destinations, welcoming some 800,000 British tourists a year - but that doesn't mean it's not also one of the most controversial Benidorm has been branded 'The worst place on Earth' by some, despite the resort town attracting roughly 800,000 British holidaymakers annually. Indeed, for certain travellers, its unenviable title stems precisely because of the influx of Brits each year. This Spanish seaside city, famous for its "strip" crammed with bars and nightclubs, revels in a reputation of limitless revelry where drunken antics and indecent exposure are as typical of the vacation experience as sunshine and sandy shores. YouTuber Ben Morris set off to Benidorm investigating whether its infamous notoriety is merited, pointing out that many attribute the resort's issues primarily to one thing: "Brits abroad." Ben observes that English is far more common than Spanish even in the scenic Old Town, stating: "Lots of people refer to Benidorm as 'Mini Britain,' with the British greatly surpassing the local population." He was taken aback by the sheer number of people thronging the streets, saying: "I knew that this was a popular holiday destination but I was really thrown off by how busy it actually was." However genteel Benidorm seems by day, the night transforms it completely, reports the Express. As darkness falls, encounters with illicit drug peddlers and, curiously, condom vendors become routine, targeting inebriated tourists to splurge their holiday funds. "I just couldn't get over how different the energy was at night-time," Ben said. "It was like feeding time at the zoo with Brits drinking and partying all down the streets." The bustling Calle Gerona is tailored for a certain type of holidaymaker. "It's just crazy walking down the strip; it's pub after pub after sports bar after pub," Ben remarked. One infamous destination in Benidorm, Sticky Vicky's, notorious for its peculiar adult performance involving unexpected objects and a woman's nether regions, remains open even after its founder passed away in 2023. Taking the limelight is María Gadea Aragüés, Vicky's own daughter, who began mastering the unconventional family talent at the tender age of 13. Ben could only stomach roughly 10 minutes of the show before he had to make a swift exit. Yet, for those seeking a break from the brash strip's neon embrace, a short ride away lies the tranquil Altea. "It's a completely different vibe to Benidorm," Ben observes, suggesting it as a serene escape when the risqué antics of Sticky Vicky's become overwhelming.
Daily Record
2 hours ago
- Daily Record
Scots MP reveals celebrity A-listers he taught golf at world famous hotel
EXCLUSIVE: Brian Leishman taught footballers, singers and movie stars during his time at Gleneagles. A Scottish MP has revealed a list of celebrities A-listers who he coached at golf at a world-famous Scottish hotel. Labour's Brian Leishman taught footballers, singers and movie stars during his time at Gleneagles. The Alloa and Grangemouth MP gave lessons to Manchester United legend Ryan Giggs, global pop sensation Shakira and Grease star John Travolta. He also taught Paisley actor Gerard Butler, Scotland football legend Gary Caldwell, English chef Heston Blumenthal and 66 Miss World contestants. But he said his work as an MP was "harder" than teaching A-listers how to swing clubs. Leishman said Shakira - best known for her 2006 number one 'Hips Don't Lie' - showed talent. He said: "Shakira was very athletic. From being a complete rank and file beginner, she took to it brilliantly. She had a lesson every day for about six or seven days and she could strike it really well." But Welsh footballer Giggs struggled: " I'm never going to [say who was the worst celeb I taught]. It's a sliding scale from being very good to not being so good. " I'll never ever say a golfer's the worst, but Ryan Giggs should stick to football." Leishman added that the Machester United legend was not as good as former Celtic centre-back Caldwell - who scored the only goal of Scotland's famous 2006 victory over France. Gerard Butler, star of historical action film 300, and American actor Travolta both received one-off lessons in the driving range at the hotel. Leishman was a professional golfer before being elected as an MP in July last year. He said he loved his job at the Perthshire resort: "I was there from November 2007 to January 2012. "I was a teaching pro so I would do individual lessons, group lessons. Playing rounds on the golf course, which is an absolute treat. Getting to play the course three or four times a week - it was brilliant. I loved it." Leishman said the celebrities "were absolutely brilliant, honestly. Really, really pleasant. "The kind of unwritten rule was that you don't ask about their professional lives. They're there to rest and relax." Leishman said his current job was more difficult: "Being an MP is much more important. It's much harder but it's also much more rewarding as well. " I've basically got about 72,000 bosses now in my constituency that I'm answerable to. " I've been a golf pro for 23 years, I've been an MP for now 11 months. This is the best job I've ever had. What a responsibility it is, what a privilege it is." But he refused to pick one celebrity he would love to teach: "Heroes are for kids. You should never meet your heroes or you'll be disappointed."
Spectator
6 hours ago
- Spectator
Should family history, however painful, be memorialised forever?
Be under no illusions: this is not a food memoir. Chopping Onions on My Heart is a linguistic exploration of belonging; a history of the Jewish community in Iraq; and an urgent endeavour to save an endangered language. Above all, it is a reckoning with generational trauma. The subjects of Samantha Ellis's previous books include the life of Anne Brontë, heroines of classic literature, feminism and romantic comedy. She is the daughter of Iraqi Jewish refugees, and the language she grew up around, the language of her people and culture, is dying. Judeo-Iraqi Arabic 'came out of the collisions of Hebrew-speaking Jews and Aramaic-speaking Babylonians, and then absorbed linguistic influences from all the other people who conquered Iraq'. Ellis is irrepressible in the way she talks about her mother tongue, calling it 'earthy, sinewy, witty, excessive, wry, noisy, vivid… Hot, where English often seems cold. Mouth-filling, where English seems empty. Patterned, when English seems plain.' Jewish people first came to Iraq in 586 BC. At the community's height in the 1940s there were 150,000 Jews living in the country. At best guess, by 2019 just five remained. Most left in the decade following Farhud, the pogrom carried out against the Jews of Baghdad over two days in 1941. More than 180 Jews were murdered and countless raped and injured. Ellis's father's family left for Israel, while her mother's stayed on for more than 20 years. But both her parents eventually ended up in London, where Ellis was born. She was raised speaking English, 'but all the gossip, all the stories, all the exciting, forbidden grown-up life happened in Judeo-Iraqi Arabic'. She quietly absorbed the language, but as she grew up, lost it. Now, as an adult and mother, she is acutely aware of the consequences for herself and her son. The mass exodus of Iraqi Jews in 1950-51, and their assimilation into adopted countries, meant that the language was marginalised, and speaker numbers dwindled fast. Ellis's early investigations are urgent, panicked, motivated by a combination of incredulity and guilt that a language that informs her heritage, but that she doesn't speak, isn't being preserved by someone else: 'I raced to my laptop to find out if anyone was saving my language. Someone had to be!' She begins language classes, visits museums and consults relatives. She attempts to trace the history of her people. She cannot accept that the reason languages become extinct is because second generation, non-native speakers 'didn't value or care for them, that we were recklessly letting them die'. She realises that 'there was always violence somewhere in the vanishing of languages. There certainly was in mine'. The mother tongue is 'earthy, sinewy, witty, excessive, wry, noisy, vivid…Hot, where English often seems cold' The psychological effect of being brought up by families who have experienced war, discrimination and displacement is what makes Ellis both neurotic and determined not to pass on that inherited fear to her son. When he garbles the history of how they came to Britain, Ellis decides: 'If I was going to unmuddle him, maybe I had to try to unmuddle myself first.' But how does one preserve the stories of a culture's past without also holding on to the pain that imbues them? In her search for home and belonging, she finds solace in cooking her country's traditional dishes. But this is not a tidy personal narrative that finds resolution in a comforting stew or finishes with a glorious homecoming wrapped neatly in bread dough. Ellis is wary of simplifying the past and making it more palatable through food. The problem is not Iraqi Jewish cuisine; that's the easy bit. It's the gnarly, traumatic parts that are harder to engage with. So, no, this is not a food memoir. And if at times it doesn't seem to know quite what it is, then isn't that sort of the point? Unpicking, extricating different facets of heritage is near impossible, compounded by the conflicting motivations of a second generation immigrant. What begins as a shapeless mass, a grey cloud of uncertainty, slowly morphs into a full-colour, defined picture of a more confident, peaceful acceptance of Ellis's duality – of being Judeo-Iraqi, but not in Iraq, of belonging to two places at once, even if one place cannot be visited. Like her identity, Ellis's book contains multitudes.
