Menu and Outfit Pressure

Monday 20th February 2017

I am burdened by the thought of all the outfits I’m yet to wear. How one longs to be completely finished, like the Queen or Jean Shrimpton, but one never is.

Last week I dined on Oldroyd with Prince Dmitri on Monday, the Smoking Goat with Joshua Baring on Wednesday and Saturday was lunch at Rules with Rufus Pitman, Bruce MacBain and Conrad Matheson followed by dinner at Boisdale with Beamish O’Halloran, the Laird and Lairdess, Esme Manning (from Heidi Hi), Laura Malcolm and Matt Driver. Outfits were called for but exercise, even cycling, also, in order to be able to get into the outfits required for the functions but the cycling element having an impact on the outfits that could be worn. I only had 6/10 outfit satisfaction for Boisdale. A sudden flash gave me my white Zara jacket (had to be bought out from the storage wardrobe for summer clothes).  A heterosexual feel was called for. I was planning to change from the black Zara spray-on jeans to the Balenciaga waxed ones, but at the last minute didn’t. A perfect silver-yellowy grey spray-on slack hovered at the back of the cave (I mean Platonic Ideal) but unfortunately didn’t exist. Nothing like can I find anywhere.

The week before was the double PV evening already mentioned. I wore my Bott Ven suit whose trousers have just been narrowed. Had quite high outfit satisfaction as a result: 8/10. First I was Royston King’s guest at the Royal Academy for the Russian Revolutionary Art Exhib, to which I was recalled later to do a piece to camera for Dainty Lady TV. Essentially art wasn’t allowed in Rev Russia so it’s a bit odd. They had to do propaganda. The PV was packed, my dear, but nobody was there. Royces and the like drew up in the courtyard. I heard a woman advancing from the portico: ‘Good evening, Ambassador,’ she said. The ambass was accompanied by two spiked lady greatnesses. Another woman emerged from a Royce, in a skimpy red dress, feather boa and terrific heels, superbly dieted to the point of near-death but that was her look and it was great. She clucked to the front door for immediate admission but they didn’t seem to know her and she was put in the queue.

Mary Beard was a wheeny bit in the way in the dining hall where a choice of three mini-meals in bowls was offered except that Mary Beard was in the way. I had all three, finally. I think they’ve done something about her hair. It looked expensive rather than a wiry mess. The Gay Mother has had it in for Mary Beard’s hair for ages. Genevieve arrived from the Tate Hockney PV with the Nasreem in tooled Moroccan leather and was dead against our going on to the Robots at the Science Museum. But Royston was insistent. Gays are in charge at the Science Museum and the eats are fantastic, he said. As it turned out , we were thrilled with the Science Museum PV. There was no feeling of cruelty. Frockage, it’s true, did tend a little to pull-on boil-wash but there was  proper PV uplift despite this. We met the Head of Science Museum and I saw him later on TV at Windsor meeting the Queen. We met the man from the Bowes Museum which had lent the Silver Swan automaton that catches a fish when wound up, which it will be once a day. You must go and see it and take your children.

I was charmed by the robots. There was one that could keep you company: it had a screen on its chest that showed the most fearful shaggy dog story. Poor robot was rather a bore. A Japanese one will look after any old people you have who need looking after – apparently. The best was the baby at the entrance who was a dead ringer for a baby. But babies are easier; the Japanese girl robot mostly had her puzzled face on. Two young men in boil-wash pull-on frockage were shouting at her, really getting quite cross and the more they shouted the more she lurched about and repeated her phrase – I suppose that’s like a human. They also got frustrated with another robot that wouldn’t pick up the toothbrush when they told it to. Really these robots can’t do much, poor things.

It’s strange: a lot of endeavour has gone into getting a machine to resemble a human. The point is not quite clear: if you want your old rellies looked after by mechanical means why does the machine have to look and act like a human? But still this great craving for a perfect robot just like a person. What is it? Like the quest for the perfect outfit? Or a perfect state of affairs where robots will be wheezing about our homes doing everything for us and we will be suspended in perfect finished leisure.

The Baby Robot: the Star Attraction at the Science Museum Robot Exhib

The Baby Robot: the Star Attraction at the Science Museum Robot Exhib

The Robot Keeps you Company but it is a Bit of a Bore

The Robot Keeps you Company but it is a Bit of a Bore

Poor Girl Robot was Confused

Poor Girl Robot was Confused

The Swan Automaton from the Bowes Museum: The Glass Rods Rotate when it's Wound Up and Look like Water. The Swan catches a fish

The Swan Automaton from the Bowes Museum: The Glass Rods Rotate when it’s Wound Up and Look like Water. The Swan catches a fish

This is an Old Robot: Was Show to the Queen's Father in the 1920s

This is an Old Robot: Was Show to the Queen’s Father in the 1920s

Posted Monday, February 20, 2017 under Adrian Edge day by day.

One comment so far

  1. holle you

    i will buy a robot baby
    venlig iben

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