Keeping Up

Wednesday 17th November 2021

I can’t keep up.

The Gay Mother looked at her rowan tree, ‘Joseph Rock’. ‘That’s not autumn,’ she said, ‘that’s Death.’ Further on, she said that the Church Times is no good for lighting fires, the local paper much better. Speaking of the local paper, she was horrified that people take dirty clothes to charity shops, often dumping bin bags outside when the shops are closed. In The Tablet there was a big piece on conspiracy theories. Apparently some people refuse point blank to believe anything the authorities say. As far as they’re concerned, everything’s a conspiracy. I have a certain amount of sympathy.

I had so many pieces to camera with all the worry from Windsor. So it’s been a quiet home life with a few breakthroughs (come back later for more).

On 5th November I gate-crashed the Cruisings’ Firework Party after motoring to Hastings to attend to Val in the Conquest Hosp. The Cruisings have cleverly taken up residence in a block that resembles a cruise ship to match their cruising business. It’s got balconies and state rooms. Their cat fell out of it, just as some older cruisers fall into the sea and are never heard of again, it being the best way to go really for the dedicated cruiser, although the cat survived. The firework display was strange: we ought be told why one huge firework would go off in one place then another in a different place altogether a while later. So it went on. Each one must cost about £400.

We decided to have fireworks indoors. Laura Malcolm said, ‘The government told us to stay at home and we all did it.’ She meant, ‘Why? Why did we just do what we were told?’ Percy Cruising began to rave about Sweden. Matt Driver and I whooshed up incendiary at once but Percy could make more noise. There was no hope against his barrage. I tried to send him to his room but he wouldn’t go. Somebody said, ‘Nobody debates anything anymore,’ but her husband was fuming simultaneously that masks should be worn out of politeness.

That was fun. Next there was lunch, with Laura Malcolm and Xenia Zero. She’s a big-shot. Don’t mess with her. We’ve known her for 40 years. She’ll get you a big deal if she feels like it. Her new hip – she’s been in the Edward V11. It’s a dump. So is the continental property owned by a certain huge actress you’ll have heard of. Xenia said certain people had stopped talking to her for no reason. Laura said that had never happened to her but she wasn’t that bothered with anyone. Otherwise the topics were procedures, tests and results plus our ancient Loved Ones, whether dead or alive. Laura’s doing a new turn on certain requirements of her particular Loved One which causes any audience to catapult from the room. The details.

After that my schedule was earthquaked: Wisley with Royston was scheduled for Friday, then Saturday, then back to Friday, then Saturday again. Finally not at all. There was a cascade of last minutes, including a function for 30 somethings, a concert I’d clean forgotten about, a sudden manifestation at the Black Cultural Archive. Twice I left the home in a track suit, owing to having to do manual work. I suppose it’s a penance for my luck in birth, being born with a thrice-weekly cleaning woman and the Gay Granny having two coming every day.

Did I mention I went out to buy blueberries and ended up in the local Ralph Lauren Club with Genevieve Suzy and Merle Barr?  First of all, just champagne, then a caving in to three courses. All the time, I was in a cleaning outfit of black track suit from Asos. Luckily the lighting was low.

Posted Wednesday, November 17, 2021 under Adrian Edge day by day.

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