What a Life!

Tuesday 7th October 2014

What a life! Many would not believe it. Last Thursday I dined with Joshua Baring, the youngest known Poor Little Rich Gay, at Polpetto in Berwick Street – it’s a relation of Polpo and superb. Joshua is currently lying in the gutter looking at the stars. He is dying back in order to ascend and has eschewed what is commonly called a ‘day job’. This is similar to how Our Lord was Crucified that he might Ascend Unto Heaven. Joshua performed at dinner a whole slab of the Joan Rivers show with Melissa where Joan is about to undergo cosmetic surgery and says she might die. Joshua did all the voices. We were of one mind that Joan was the greatest: so horrifying and true. Then he did a charity function at Donald Trump’s Club, formerly a famous 1920s mansion, which he gate-crashed in the wrong clothes with his multi-millionaire friend. His account of this place was that it was made of cardboard and poster paint but Landsdowne Reindorp and Rick Rock, who showed up on the weekend at the Multis’ Kent demesne, didn’t see it like that at all. They should know. They live in Palm Beach, some of the time.

I mustn’t dwell though. The main point of my life at the moment is the rate of production of social events- rather like Barbara Cartland’s novels. On Friday I dined at Laura Malcolm’s. Matt Driver is aiming to put a stop to hot desking, which is where you don’t have a desk in your office. It’s hated apparently. He also said he stains his outfit at meal-times more and more these days. I got stained at Great Dixter on Sunday but I leap ahead. At Laura’s we revived Lynsey de Paul, who sadly passed last week, on YouTube and decided she was definitely a woman. Saturday was Lord Arrowby’s bruncheon for his birthday. A famous family attended with three unbelievably striking children. Rufus Pitman supervised a game where we guessed each other’s handwriting and what it means. My negative side came out because I had nothing nice to say about the handwriting I got. Lord Arrowby was dressed for soccer by various designers with bare brown legs of excellent quality. All his kitchen cupboards kept flying open in an alarming way. He was attempting to cook mackerel but I biffed him out of the way because he could hardly light the gas, despite running the country. Then he began scooping out oysters and Finn Magnus, the hot boy doc, stepped in a bit that flew to the floor. So Lord Arrowby’s flatti could be wrecked if oyster gets tramped through it. Finn is buying a place so we’ve got renovation to look forward to there. The lady from the famous family didn’t know what Lord Arrowby does even though they holiday together every year. Rufus Pitman said, ‘He’s a lord who runs the country.’ In fact you could see the country he runs from out the window – the view of Big Ben and Victoria Tower. ‘But,’ Rufus said, ‘he needs is a wife. What is the point if he can’t say, “Lady Arrowby is in the snug”.’

The famous-family mother looked troubled. As you know, I had thought at one time of marrying Lord Arrowby but he would lose his edge were he to become too domestic. Also would there be time for clothes shopping? Rufus Pitman, who is more uxorious, is evidently still keen on the idea.

The crisis at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern (will it be sold to developers?) muttered its way through the occasion. Lord Arrowby modelled his apres-ski jumper with built-in shawl. We encouraged him to have spray-on tights for his legs below to make a contrast with the bulk of the knitwear – or rather it was mainly me. I envisaged a Florentine look as seen in old Florence art. I think secretly Lord Arrowby would rather like to be a full-blown sex-bomb along the lines of his bosom friend, Guy Bostock.

I haven’t even begun on my Saturday night and Sunday programme. Madness though was rearing in several ways, not least with Val emailing to announce the unaccountable collapse of his ankle and then phoning at 7 on Sunday morning. I said, ‘Thought of calling a doctor?’ He said, ‘A lot of people complain about you but you do come up with the most sensible suggestions.’

Lord Arrowby Models his Latest Apres Ski Purchase

Posted Tuesday, October 7, 2014 under Adrian Edge day by day.

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  1. Robert Nevil says:

    Why did Lord Arrowby’s cupboards keep flying open in an alarming way? Were persons trapped within and trying to go free range?

  2. Adrian Edge says:

    No, Robert Nevil, Lord Arrowby was under intense bruncheon pressure and had a complex menu to push out in no time. He favours oysters, crab and mackerel. Like all Poor Little Rich Gays he longs to entertain yet is agonised by it

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