Articles/Interviews

ONE MUST NEVER underestimate the subduing power of a 40th birthday, and Oliver Reed had his in February.

But there was a picture recently in the papers which surely had his old cronies rolling off their bar stools with mirth. It showed Reed stooping to pick crocuses in the countryside. On his face was the most grotesque beatific smile, reminding one of a bag of potatoes with a split in it. And the caption began: "Hush," hissed Oliver. "It's a bumble bee."

The new, gentle, mature and peace-loving Oliver Reed, the model which his press agent reassures us with disturbing sincerity will last well into the 1980s, was on the road.

"As I approach 40, I realised I was going to have to change. After all, what am I? I am an ageing, fat man who worries about tax."

"In my 20's I wanted to tear down everything that I couldn't beat. I still am very competitive. In my 30's I suddenly wanted to build. In my 40's, above all, I want to try and preserve. I want to make my estate on of the principal interests of my life."

The estate is his rolling 60 acres in Surrey, bought not long after he made The Hunting Party, and he runs it like a nature reserve.

It is unlikely that his film role as a bandit pursued by trick-shot hunters had much effect on a man as individual as Reed, but local hunting and gun enthusiasts could be forgiven for thinking so. Soon after he moved on to his estate he barred shooting on it. The previous owners were a missionary order, the White Fathers of Africa, who apparently permitted people to come and shoot indiscriminately - pheasants, geese, anything.

"I am fairly strict. Over a period of a few years the birds began to realise that at least they can settle on my land without getting their backsides blown off."

In Reed's miniature domain, three miles south of Dorking, where all are welcome, even the foxes who rudely eat his peacock, the centre-piece is the stables - and the new foal.

"I came home late last night after consoling myself in the pub after a not very successful day at the races, and saw all the lights on in the stables. Being a mean person - this place costs �1,000 a week to run - I said, who the hell left these lights on? Then I saw the foal. Just born."

"To me, it's like an addition to the family. It was particularly fascinating last night, because this was a mare I had crossed with Marius, a very strong and worthy showjumper. The mare was extremely tired. But the foal so energetic. I've never seen anything like it."

"My ambition in life is to breed a winner at Wembley. I've got six brood mares at the moment, all in foal to a good stallion. I am trying to breed a special Shire-thoroughbred cross."

"I got interested in horses while making The Hunting Party in Spain. I had never made a Western before. I couldn't even ride properly, and everybody used to snigger at me."

"My cowboy's accent was like a New York hamburger seller's, which is the only accent I had any experience of. I had to practise my draw 60 times a day. And for four hours, I practised riding on a horse called Archibald, which I fell in love with. They gave me Archibald because he was intelligent enough to get the scene right, even if I got it wrong."

"When I returned to England, I decided to buy a horse of my own. I bought a showjumper called Dougall. I flew back from Italy once just to see it competing. But it turned out to be scared of the coloured poles. So I decided to look for some fields to train it in."

"I came and looked at the fields on this estate, then got drunk and bought the 47-roomed house that went with it as well."

He decides the house as "classical Victorian baroque", and he fights a running battle to stop it falling to pieces. He was two workmen permanently repairing the roof. "I have told them to carve their initials next to my crest for posterity."

Reed ponders wearily. "I am a tidy person to knock. I have got very broad shoulders. Everybody says, 'I wish I had his problems - oh, dear, what a hard life I have.'"

"But what would happen if I decided to give up? Who would pay for the upkeep of an estate like this?"

"The Chancellor of the Exchequer has decided if, for a period of time, one is going to make sufficient money to do the kind of things I am doing here, then he will squeeze till the pips go pop."

"If you approach the authorities for a grant or alleviation of tax to restore and maintain a place like this, their attitude is that there are too many historic houses of greater historic interest."

"People accuse me of being a tax exile. But my domicile is right here in this house. But when the cripsies and crinklies get short, I have to live out of the back of a Boeing, because there's no work in this country."

"I could live in Los Angeles's sunny climes and pay 50 per cent instead of 86. This country is deprived of too many of its entertainers that way."

"I love this estate too much top rush off somewhere else. Perhaps my tolerance of pains is greater than other actors. Or perhaps they haven't twisted my arm enough yet."