Getting out, The Happy Prince People I admire. Natalia Ginsburg and Coffeegate.

Last Winter I retired from the social scene, nobody noticed I am sure. As the great Johnson said “ to retire from London is to retire from life” . Any way I didn’t really!. You see there is something wonderful about a ravishing set piece dinner party. One such this week  at which the clever beautiful hostess generously placed moi between two very distinguished people suffice to say one of them we have known for many years a an Air Marshall and now an eloquent cross bencher in the Lords, my other neighbour a very distinguished musician. Now here is the thing, in this gathering of enlightened people the conversation was illuminating and based on fact and experience from the front line , the Air Marshal converses with women on a level playing field, the musician also. Personally I prefer this to fulminating alone in front of a screen gathering badly reported facts from biased smelly reporters sown together with their own illogical bias and then suggesting that you others are not interested in the Trump baby snatching horror, oh yeh! So as long as  it is possible I will go to Harvey for the Blow Dry and struggle with the flesh coloured tights , bare legs are not the thing after the age of lest say fifteen. But oh the oaths that issue from the Lady’s chamber during this process, the Sainted One will personally identify with these of course ( the language obviusly )

Natalia Ginsburg wrote on educating your children,” Not thrift but Generosity, not caution but courage, and a contempt for danger, not shrewdness but frankness, not tact but love r one’s’neighbour, not a desire for a success, but to be and to know”

In a sense Oscar Wilde was a practitioner of this, Rupert Everett. Has created a moving account of the great man’s life using his short story “ The Happy Prince” a metaphor for life a death. Oscars ending’  were perhaps not quite as tragic as one might think. My mother used to read that story to me, and I use to cry my eyes out Everett did that for me again; the passing of years and the vicissitudes of life have, I am sad to say, have woven a cynical carapace around my own emotions …but this ….  as if waking from a long comatose sleep.

A rude awakening to (321 back in the room) namely reality check was “Coffeegate”, after a lovely alfresco meal prepared by moi the SO discovered we were out of coffee this was a ghastly event, I watched a noticed an air of blind desperation through the open French doors  followed by  a trance figure like  perambulating round the kitchen table transfixed by a small silver coffee spoon. I spoke the fatal words “Are you Ok you look bit queer?” I asked. “Are  you saying I am a homosexual?” came the furious bellowing reply. “ No actually actually  but you are not very attractive to Gay men are you?” “ tension rising coffee spoon …threatening … “ Oh so you don’t think I a m attractive then?????” his face gone very white…. J ” I have always known you were a lesbian”. he muttered darkly,  the jury is still out on all this ” Off to Cinema me. ts a generational thing .

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Blog Happy, The Joy of Gardens Richard the Third and Fox Gate.

The thing about Blogs as a friend of mine mentioned, you cannot really tell people about how you were considering five different ways of killing yourself, after all we all get like that on a bad hair day. So therefore consider the plus points so here goes, a magical day at Sissinghurst, followed by someone actually cooking dinner .. and the eyeball injections have worked a treat ( down side seeing hairs on the chin) oh yes, goodness quite perfect blow dry( on head) which lasted five days.

The garden at its peak, the S O is very good at planting the stuff moi gets from very rare sources and trying to remedy all the brown patches of canine Pee . We went to a beautiful dinner party, with lobster on rare gold plates and a perfect lawn despite dozens of Pekenezes followed by Beuf Strogonnof in honour of a guest who was born to the firing of Russian Canons ( I didn’t fully comprehend this) . Now for the bad bits, somebody has helpfully fiddled with my mouse , so the spell check does not work , nor much else really, so speaking as a dyslexic this is rather awful also Sandy my beloved fox as hurt himself badly, the RSPCA came with a sinister net and cage, Sandy scarpered , wise move I would say, they probably put them to sleep I bet. He was back today and looked better after eating the sausages “Bunny” puts out for him. At the Church fete a very nice person remarked to me that I must have been rather beautiful thirty years ago….. if it were so I hope I made the best of it ….. they meant well of course. I am living with Richard the third, my gentle step on the staircase provokes a ubiquitous cry from the SO of something like “Oh miuou Gawd” it trails on the last bit into a dreadful ominous distance as per the dear Richard as he cried out for his horse. Mind you he was not quite as bad as Lawrence Olivier made him. What folks will do for some Wimbledon tickets is astonishing so the horse gallops on and the adorable Gazelle cowers by the fridge thinking.