Thursday 10th August 2023

I think I mentioned Glyndebourniana – we took La Dialogue des Carmelites. Aunt Lavinia was in the party with Prince Dmitri. ‘I can’t say I enjoyed it,’ a woman was overheard saying in the car park. ‘Enjoy is the wrong word.’ Too right.  It was shattering, completely believable as well as horribly topical. The abuse of women by men – it just never stops. Why can’t men stop abusing women?

In this case, it was nuns in Revolutionary France (they should never had had that Revolution). It was decided by men that their heads must be chopped off – just because they were nuns.

Not quite what one goes to Glyndebourniana to hear, in the upper echelons. But right. Our picnic came off well. Aunt Lavinia did the duck.

Simeon Bond, in his mask, was nowhere to be seen. Prince Dmitri couldn’t believe it. We always see Simeon Bond wherever we go.

Holland Park opera – more picnics.

Otherwise I’ve become a fixture in the side stalls at the dear darling Royal Albert Hall. Bertram DiBantry caused an outrage. ‘What a load of rubbish!’ somebody shouted at the end of his perf. Isn’t it rather high-handed to shout? What if others think differently?  I suppose the person couldn’t help it. Bertram DiBantry won’t be deterred, I’m sure. He’d taken a scale such as a child or somebody with no idea would pick out and repeated it for twelve minutes. There was dislike of mu while pushing it to extremes of misty nothingness at the same time. It all made perfect sense.

The idea now is that only massive works with a cast of millions are to be performed at the Royal Albert Hall in the Proms season. So Sibelius, Shostakovich and Mahler. Not my usual choice but salutary to try and get used to them. No Bruckner this year, thank goodness. He really is utterly ghastly drear.

The National Youth Orch gave the Prom last Saturday. Works of unutterable tedium – Copeland 1st Symphony. Something by Hindemith, supposed to be humorous.  Only Four Last Songs super. But the encores – utter heaven. Gospel singing and finally the Basin Street Blues, with individual orch members riffing.  Sitting next to me was ludicrous figure in a bow tie. Classic Prom bore. ‘In the know’, pompous, huffy. The worst of England.

Harry Rollo and Mercury Mr Kitten received quietly on a previous Saturday evening. More and more people are becoming ‘non-binary’. I must say one of my regrets is not wearing more jewellery and carrying a smaller handbag. Even today I get dirty looks for carrying a large handbag.

Harry said they must leave for Los Angeles to attend to the outer reaches of their Empire.

The Buckingham Palace Press Preview of the Summer Opening took place. Display v. much reduced.  The Queen’s shoes looked just a little grubby. But you could see the dogs embroidered on her Corrie frock. The diamond collet ‘Coronation’ necklace the only jewel.

The big news is that that stain on one of the banquettes in the Picture Gallery has disappeared. Banquette recovered by the looks. The King must have put his foot down. It really did appear as if someone had had an accident. Just the sort of thing old people aren’t bothered about – like the Gay Mother and her drawing room curtains in ribbons.

Stained Banquette at Buckingham Palace Picture Gallery, graphed in 2015. Now GONE – stain that Is. They must have Found some more of the Fabric in a Remote Cupboard

Wendy House Put Round King at the Coronation’s Most Solemn Moment

The Queen’s Coronation Frock

The Queen’s Coronation Shoes

One of the Queen’s Dogs – name of Gus

Cecil Beaton Graphed Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, as Queen Elizabeth, by This Vase, Thereby turning her into the Fantasy Crinolined Queen she Afterwards Became

Buckingham Palace Garden: Rewilding, which seems to mean Stinging Nettles

Close-Up of Stingers in Buckingham Palace Garden: Should Rewilding just mean Stinging Nettles?