A ramble with actor Morley (films: Beat the Devil, Oscar Wilde, etc.) through his 80th year. Morley, now retired, plays small chords with chirpy good humor and will be a pleasure to read for those in his age bracket. Younger folks in their 60s or below may wish he had gone in more for gossip and the pleasures of acting. Reading this book is like receiving a beautifully needleworked goosedown pillow for the couch. After you've felt its silk and admired its dye and goosedown and needlework, there's not much more to do with it, except have a catnap. Before napping out, though, you'll note that Morley's interests are joyous, slight, and wispy. Among the more interesting ones are planning one's funeral, ""an endless source of pleasure. Large or small? By invitation or not?. . .As we know so little about the conditions which will prevail I have left instructions that my credit cards should be buried alongside myself."" Later, on the last page, he cancels instructions for cremation and his desire to have his ashes scattered on the racecourse. Morley has never exercised or followed a regimen to prolong his life, is still quite an eater, and writes with zest about his favorite foods. He talks about his letter-writing (six a day), his cigars, his long and happy marriage, his children, falling asleep before the TV, and his ""small fart of triumph"" upon getting into bed each night. One ends with love for Bobble, thanking him for his letter, and knowing that the entire book will drift out of one's head in seven days--or sooner.