At Home With Terry Jones
3 August, 1983. London -- Grove Park, Camberwell. The last in a line of red brick row houses. Our taxi driver had been disappointed that we were not going to visit John Cleese, “that crazy man." Instead, I was interviewing Terry Jones – who, I assured our driver, was pretty crazy, too. My daughter Laura, then 19, was mortified to be seen as tagging along but, like her brother and mother, was a devoted fan of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, first introduced to American television in 1974. We'd been touring France and the UK for nearly a month. Read More
3 August, 1983. London -- Grove Park, Camberwell. The last in a line of red brick row houses. Our taxi driver had been disappointed that we were not going to visit John Cleese, “that crazy man." Instead, I was interviewing Terry Jones – who, I assured our driver, was pretty crazy, too. My daughter Laura, then 19, was mortified to be seen as tagging along but, like her brother and mother, was a devoted fan of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, first introduced to American television in 1974. We'd been touring France and the UK for nearly a month. Read More