I Go Down the Road and Travel North

Friday 19th December 2014

Never, never have I known such a pre-Christmas. I’ve not lunched nor dined at home for a week. Very careful planning is called for to survive. Tomorrow once again I lunch out, then party in the evening. Sunday is Tristan, then the Ivy (now nothing: you can book on-line). Finally on Monday night, I’m at Canada Water Cafe for an intimate Christmas send-off. Every time I go to that place, I dine with the Head of something. Last time it was Head of a huge Publishing Group, next time it will be head of a huge BBC department. Such are the Multis’ connections.

Yesterday, I lunched at Zedel, went on to a private Carol Service at which ‘The Shepherds’ Farewell’ was given, my Christmas theme music for this year. In my special stall as honoured visitor (I was in the turquoise Prada mac) before the assembled throng I was in floods. In the evening was ‘Edward Scissorshands’ (about a man who has scissors for hands: why scissors? all the audience seemed to love him for his scissors. Is in a vestige of primary school and early scissor-work? You only have to bring scissors in and the audience goes mad. Edward Scissorhands only slightly cut someone once and then was terribly sorry… if he’d had chain-saws for hands, it would have been another matter, perhaps). Then afterwards at Ed Jasper’s and Roland Mainflower’s – of which much to tell.

On Wednesday I lunched at Caravan after the Gothic Exhib; Tuesday was a quiet private dinner, Monday was a day of rest after the journey North for the Multis’ pub lunch for the Photo Multi family, now an annual fixture. I drove Val up and the Photo Multi showed his kind side when he asked Val to have Christmas with them because he has nowhere to go. But really Val is in the most dreadful state, could hardly eat owing to shaking and on the way back threatened to be sick just in the place where there was nowhere to stop. And he’d only just finished a boiled sweet. I wonder if it wasn’t deliberate. Afterwards he complained about the men at the function ruling the air waves with their war memories and pronouncements about the Nation’s state. Well, they may not be our sort of people, but I saw only a certain clinging on. One must have some pity. Besides Wing-Commander ‘Feathers’ Bufton has quite a Google presence and did much to save the Nation by shooting down 126 enemy aircraft. This Multi-funded pub lunch is always a challenge to the styled and finished Poor Little Rich Gay pre-occupied with the best shape of ice-cube (you must also converse with young people about their hopes) but one we must meet, I feel.

Peter Acharya and Ned Czernowski’s party was easier of access. Peter and Ned curated superbly, on the one hand, some highly ornamental and whippy young gorgeousnesses, up to no good (we inspected the cupboard where last year some of them became frenzied) and, on the other, very grand ancien regime gays who did the Duchess of Windsor’s hair and took big parts in Coronation Street. Aunt Lavinia came over with Laura Malcolm and Matt Driver and was encouraged to bop by Bruce MacBain, an undertaking I thought quite dangerous considering that her knees are now by the King Edward VII Hospital for Officers. Laura said that black women were much better underwear models than white and Matt made a crisp marketing-type comment about something or other (I think the general state of affairs) which I’ve now forgotten sadly owing to failure. Unfortunate remarks were made by a person as we were setting out for the party, the trauma of which I fought all evening, not always successfully.

You’ll still be wanting to know how Chekhov made mayonnaise…

 

 

Posted Friday, December 19, 2014 under Adrian Edge day by day.

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