Sorry it’s late – Feb was too short and March came too fast.
Got the OBE – freezing cold – mad to dress as a girl in sub zero temperatures. All very formal and surreal – why was I driving through swirling snow towards Buckingham Palace with a Tourette Syndrome chauffeur who couldn’t stop talking about golf in the Algarve?
All the comedy traffic clogged the roads. We had skip lorries, school buses, binmen, police cars piously driving at under 30mph, army convoys, pushbike mums with basket-loads of kids having a near-death experience.
But we got there, and we had mirrors put under the car to see if we were bringing in any terrorist devices, and we had to show our passports, as though we were entering another country – which in a way, we were.
They are a strange lot, the royals. Not so much as a glass of water for the guests, but a lovely orchestra, lots of flowers and flunkies, and a really hideous mirror in the ladies’ loo. It was comforting to think that the Queen, like the rest of us, shoves her unwanted items in the guest loo.
There was a nice clothes brush in there too, which my god-child Eleanor used to brush her hair, remarking that it was about as mad as the cat brush she has to use when she comes to stay with me.
She was very brave, and learnt an important lesson; that formal occasions are boring.
Never mind. Having good manners she behaved perfectly, and put it all down to experience, though she did say that I reminded her of one of those seaside postcards where you stick your head on top of the wrong body.
I think she was referring to the Armani.
Bond Street is not my natural home, and as I dragged myself from one end to the other, I quickly realised that I did not look like any of the assistants or any of the other customers. Calvin Klein was fine, because I always buy my knickers there anyway, and the only worry was the Albanian assistant who kept giving me the wrong size. But at least I got the new undies at last.
On top of that went the Armani. The hold –ups came from Wolford and cost a staggering £9 or $15 A LEG. For that price you could get a pensioner in the Shetland Islands to HAND KNIT you a pair of socks from a sheep that can trace its pedigree back to Jesus.
God, it’s expensive to be a girl.
I mean, if you start sub-dividing, we have £24 per boob for the Wonderbra. We have £8 per buttock for the knickers, (but I don’t mind that, because you never know when you might get run over).
The Armani cost an arm and a leg – or at least it would have been better if it had because I could have cut down on the cost of the hold-ups, but the SHOES – bloody hell.
I went to Kurt Geiger, Gucci, Prada, Chanel, and guess what? They all start at size 36. Only Jimmy Choo, bless him, starts at 34.Never mind how much it cost. Never mind it holds nothing bigger than a set of false teeth.
Still, it was nice to tell the Prince that he is completely right about Organics and the Environment. It was nice to get an OBE that looks like something out of a Christmas Cracker.
By the time I got back to the shop, and upstairs and into the bath, I was so cold I was sitting in steaming water, clutching a mug of milky coffee, and shivering.
But we had a lovely party that night and there was much happiness.
Thank you everyone for your kind thoughts and messages.
Now hear this: MERCURY IS RETROGRADE until March 25th. As a double Mercury with Sun in Virgo and Moon in Gemini, not to mention Venus and Mars in Virgo too), I suffer. I always suffer. But, if you are having spats, quarrels, disagreements, trouble with travel, cars, letters, email, journeys and communications of any kind, blame Mercury, or Hermes, if you prefer, god of thieves, merchants, liars, magicians, crossroads.
I can only cope by moving faster and faster, to speed past it all.
As an advance warning – I shall be at the PEN conference in New York this year – which happens at the end of April. Not sure what I am doing yet, but PEN has a programme, and I will be in it. So, if you are near the glorious city, come along.
What am I reading?
James Lovelock – Revenge of Gaia.
I have read everything of his, and follow his thinking. This one is dispiriting, but may work as a necessary wake-up call. It is certainly worth a look, even if you think you know the arguments.
Colin Tudge – The Secret Life of Trees – what they do and why they matter. Penguin. UK
Just glorious – this really is the secret life of trees, and a possible blueprint for our future.
John Berger. Berger on Drawing. Occasional Press.
This is Berger at his usual best, with some flashes of fabulous best. He is always good, and better than most, and never fails to provoke a thought in the reader. This book is published very small scale and you might have to hunt for it, but, a bit of hunting never did any harm.
George Szirtes – REEL. Bloodaxe UK
Published in 2004, this is a book I go back to, and the poem of the month is Szirtes. I have piles of poetry lying around at all times, and just pull something to the top when I feel like it.
Books are great stabilisers. Books are nearly everything.
PS – if you are in London, don’t miss the fabulous show at Tate Britain – GOTHIC NIGHTMARES – see my piece for the Times of Feb 18th, in Journalism.
Also not to miss – Lisa Lou at White Cube Gallery Hoxton Square. This is the remarkable woman who covers everything in beads – read my catalogue copy about her this month.
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