Imagine...

It started with an utterly beautiful woman urging a black pianist to sing my favourite song of all time in a Moroccan nightclub. I was doubly hooked.

What followed was a visual and audio autobiography, in her own words, much in her native Swedish and some in increasingly immaculate English. It was a story of great achievement with the saddest of undertones. Someone who, without a trace of makeup, and despite her being of an earlier generation, makes my heart skip a beat every time I see her face.

Time went by, but I must remember this incomparable Ingrid Bergman.