Babs was a shining star
MY only meeting with the late, great Barbara Windsor was marred by one thing: her husband Ronnie Knight.
It happened in Blackpool in the 1960s. I was at an evening event where she was making a personal appearance for charity.
She was about 30, warm, bubbly and gorgeous, I was in my 20s and smitten, and he was an overdose of testosterone in a Crombie overcoat, accompanied by a large gentleman in matching overcoat who was as subtle as the Statue of Liberty.
He may have been in attendance in case anyone tried to take a liberty. Ronnie was a London nightclub owner, convicted criminal and friend of Ronnie and Reggie Kray.
Ms Windsor was delightful in the larger company, but the sparkle dimmed under Ronnie’s glower when we tried to chat, one on one.
The intimidation limited the interview and her smile said sorry.
The marriage was not a success.
Her last 20 years were spent with her third husband and soul mate Scott Mitchell, who cared for her devotedly as she suffered from Alzheimer’s.
They were together when she switched on Blackpool Illuminations in 2016, while already in the grip of the disease.
She recalled she had spent the war years in the resort as a child to escape the London blitz.
“I was evacuated to some wonderful people. They wrote to my mum and said, ‘Can we send Barbara to dancing school because she gets up to mischief?’ I went to that school, I got a little certificate and I came back with a note that said, ‘She’s a born show off, let her carry on.’ I did and I’ve been carrying on ever since.”
A genuine star to rival any illuminations.