An alpine weekend with the Wolffs
On the eve of Petula Clark's new series for BBCtv which shows an unfamiliar side to her singing, Deirdre Macdonald spent five days in the luxury resort of Megeve, finding out why she and her husband want as little fuss as possible made about her being famous.
The Sound of Petula, Saturday 8.0 BBC1 Colour
Monsieur et Madame Claude Wolff. They married in June 1961
'Claude is realistic, strong and determined'
PETULA CLARK is looking forward to her new TV series. 'I think these shows, more than most, will give me the chance of showing how I really feel,' she says. 'I shall be able to do songs that really matter to me, not just the ones that I am best known for.'
Each of the six shows, she says, is completely different. For instance, there will be one featuring the songs of the Beatles, and one on the best of Burt Bacharach. For the first, The Girls Who Make Music, she says she and producer Yvonne Littlewood `have chosen songs by the best of today's girl writers and composers - for example Carole Ring, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon and Buffy Sainte-Marie: And one of the shows will make a point of Petula's French connections - a side to her which not too many of her British fans know about.
Off-screen, she's properly known as Madame Claude Wolff - has been since 1961 - and she's more French than English now, even to taking her holidays in Megeve, in the French Alps.
From Geneva, where the Wolffs live overlooking the lake, it's only an hour and a half's drive. The Hotel Castel- Champlat is more a pension than a Hilton: warmth and comfort and heavy, old- fashioned
Each of the six shows, she says, is completely different. For instance, there will be one featuring the songs of the Beatles, and one on the best of Burt Bacharach. For the first, The Girls Who Make Music, she says she and producer Yvonne Littlewood `have chosen songs by the best of today's girl writers and composers - for example Carole Ring, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon and Buffy Sainte-Marie: And one of the shows will make a point of Petula's French connections - a side to her which not too many of her British fans know about.
Off-screen, she's properly known as Madame Claude Wolff - has been since 1961 - and she's more French than English now, even to taking her holidays in Megeve, in the French Alps.
From Geneva, where the Wolffs live overlooking the lake, it's only an hour and a half's drive. The Hotel Castel- Champlat is more a pension than a Hilton: warmth and comfort and heavy, old- fashioned
Petula and five-month-old Patrick--the apple of everybody's eye
'Lovely little man, aren't you, papichon?'
mahogany furniture. 'There are posher hotels in Megeve,' says Petula, 'where you change for dinner and all that. But this is nicer for the children.
`A lot of people choose it. Sacha Distel used to come here before he built his chalet, and Alain Delon has stayed here, too. Nobody stares at you.'
Petula is used to being stared at, having been a child star, and thus as she puts it having `to grow up in public.' Both she and Claude are determined to see their children run no such risk. Next day we go off for lunch at a place a few miles above Megeve. Claude's telling funny stories that Petula knows and loves. `Listen to this one, it's lovely .` `Patrick's teeth are on the way. Aren't they, papichon?' She dips her finger in sterilising white wine, wipes it dry and investigates his gums with satisfaction.
The Wolffs are building their own chalet in Megeve. At the moment it's still only a shell, and when we get to the site, the architect and electrician launch into long and elaborate discussions with Monsieur and Madame about where power-points should be. `Half the fun at this stage,' says Petula, `is trying to picture what it will be like. The sauna will be here, and that's a sun terrace. The card-playing room - that's Claude's. Nothing to do with me! This little room under the eaves will be the favourite, I suspect.' The chalet, the Wolffs' little holiday home, has assumed
Petula is used to being stared at, having been a child star, and thus as she puts it having `to grow up in public.' Both she and Claude are determined to see their children run no such risk. Next day we go off for lunch at a place a few miles above Megeve. Claude's telling funny stories that Petula knows and loves. `Listen to this one, it's lovely .` `Patrick's teeth are on the way. Aren't they, papichon?' She dips her finger in sterilising white wine, wipes it dry and investigates his gums with satisfaction.
The Wolffs are building their own chalet in Megeve. At the moment it's still only a shell, and when we get to the site, the architect and electrician launch into long and elaborate discussions with Monsieur and Madame about where power-points should be. `Half the fun at this stage,' says Petula, `is trying to picture what it will be like. The sauna will be here, and that's a sun terrace. The card-playing room - that's Claude's. Nothing to do with me! This little room under the eaves will be the favourite, I suspect.' The chalet, the Wolffs' little holiday home, has assumed
'I think our daughters have a love of life.
I hope they can keep it.'
mansion proportions. `We wanted a nice, cosy little chalet like Sacha's, really cosy and intimate,' says Petula. `Then I decided I'd really like an indoor swimming pool. That's real luxury, I know. But you can't have a pool and cosiness! `Tomorrow, we lunch with Sacha and his family,' declared Claude. Claude is Sacha's manager, too, and the two families are close friends. So, next morning around mid-day a cable lift takes us two-thirds of the giddy way towards the Chalet la Foretiere, our rendezvous with the Distels. We negotiate the last stretch on foot, slipping and slithering and laughing, and arrive out of breathe. Only Katie's with us today Barbara has gone skiing with Jean, the instructor, and the baby has remained at the hotel. The sun's hot. 'Tu es trop vite pour moi, mais je suis plus grande que toi, Julien,' promises Petula as Sacha's younger son lands a well-aimed snowball smack in
her face. `Cafe pour Germaine?' asks Claude. `They call me Germaine here,' says Petula. `That's so that if I'm falling on my skis and they call out to me people don't turn to stare. Germaine in France is a bit like Nellie in England. Petula is too recognisable, so Germaine gives me a bit of anonymity.'
Sacha has suggested a better route for us down the mountain. `Longer, maybe, but easier,' he claims. And there follows an hour and a half of helpless hysteria as we try to walk down a racing slope to the foot of the mountain. The Distels cope with ease - Sacha's wife Francine was an Olympic skier. But the Wolffs and their guests have less success. Petula can hardly move for laughing at long-suffering Allan Ballard, the photographer, who's fallen half-a-dozen times already. Sacha's wife lends him her ski-sticks and Sacha's taken one of his cameras. `He looks like a Land Rover,' says Claude, as Allan veers from side to side.
`The ski-racers scream with fear going round this bend,' says Sacha. `It's the only way they can make it.' Then, nearer the bottom he picks up one of his small sons, piggy-back. `Ah, that's what he wanted all the time.' That, by then, is what we all wanted. Back at the Castel-Champlat, Barbara has had a triumphant day on the ski-slopes with the instructor who says her skiing is 'formidable' and competitions are in sight. Both parents are thrilled.
Sacha has suggested a better route for us down the mountain. `Longer, maybe, but easier,' he claims. And there follows an hour and a half of helpless hysteria as we try to walk down a racing slope to the foot of the mountain. The Distels cope with ease - Sacha's wife Francine was an Olympic skier. But the Wolffs and their guests have less success. Petula can hardly move for laughing at long-suffering Allan Ballard, the photographer, who's fallen half-a-dozen times already. Sacha's wife lends him her ski-sticks and Sacha's taken one of his cameras. `He looks like a Land Rover,' says Claude, as Allan veers from side to side.
`The ski-racers scream with fear going round this bend,' says Sacha. `It's the only way they can make it.' Then, nearer the bottom he picks up one of his small sons, piggy-back. `Ah, that's what he wanted all the time.' That, by then, is what we all wanted. Back at the Castel-Champlat, Barbara has had a triumphant day on the ski-slopes with the instructor who says her skiing is 'formidable' and competitions are in sight. Both parents are thrilled.
Their daughters have been brought up with wealth and comfort and happiness all their days; that's all they know.' We try to make them aware of the relative differences,' says Petula. 'We try to make them aware that they're fortunate. They saw real poverty for the first time in Marrakesh last year and they were shocked. But it's not their fault they're fortunate, so it's difficult... `I couldn't cope without Claude. He organises everything. Marriage isn't always easy. I can't pretend that it is. There has to be an awful lot of compromise. I think our daughters have love, a love of life. hope it's not beaten out of them by bad experiences. But we won't be able to protect them from everything.'
Claude, she says, is realistic and strong, determined and optimistic. `I'm much more pessimistic. People who only know me through my hit records see me as a nice little blonde lady who sings happy songs. That's not quite the way it is. I'm not always comfortable inside. I don't really like me very much. I'm not really the sort of person I would like to be. I would like to be much more sure of myself.II know how lucky we are but even my life can seem hum-drum sometimes and I can get depressed too. Then I stop and say to myself that it's a very special kind of life we live.
Claude, she says, is realistic and strong, determined and optimistic. `I'm much more pessimistic. People who only know me through my hit records see me as a nice little blonde lady who sings happy songs. That's not quite the way it is. I'm not always comfortable inside. I don't really like me very much. I'm not really the sort of person I would like to be. I would like to be much more sure of myself.II know how lucky we are but even my life can seem hum-drum sometimes and I can get depressed too. Then I stop and say to myself that it's a very special kind of life we live.
In the village square of Megeve in the French Alps--and with Claude on the slopes above it.