Sunday 3rd December 2023

Engagements have been numerous. But no dinner after…

We took Harry Rollo’s performance at a gilded world venue. Afterwards it was straight home, except Joshua Baring and I had a spell in an hotel that used to be the police station. We loved the performance but Joshua said he didn’t agree with it. Love isn’t paradise. It’s a nuisance. I said Decor and styling are so important. Also acquisitions. So we were looking though the same lens, essentially.

This hotel though – it’s the new world, I suppose. Completely dark. Staff quite frightening. Like you have to pass a test to get anything. Constant fear of cancellation. Joshua Baring paid for drinks and small plates. He has no idea of money.

We had the committal of Aunt Vaux’s ashes (she’s been gone two years) in Cousin Mercy’s back garden. I was deputed to tip the ashes into the hole which had been dug in advance. A flock of pigeons took off from a nearby rooftop at the sacred moment. So Aunt Vaux is now principally fertiliser. But lovely for Cousin Mercy to have her nearby.

This function was at 4pm, followed by return home. Home alone.

On Thursday it was Winter Wonderland as every year. A screaming mass of CEOs in the Royal Parks private tent. I got done for racism for reeling a bit when the Leader of Greenwich council was pointed out. But it was because he looked about 15. We had quite a few complimentary tickets for the rides, but didn’t dare… too old to be flung about 100 metres off the ground. We took the wheel. But that was it. Again no dinner after. But we’d been lavished with party food in the tent. Nobody came from the Royal Household.

The week before Royston funded an outing to Ariodante at the Royal Academy of Music. Aristocracy were in the party. The Susie Sainsbury theatre. An excellent performance. Young singers coming on. Very encouraging. Unfortunately Royston had only just returned from Jamaica that morning, where his father had been laid to rest and we hadn’t forethought to get the Riblats, who live next door to the Royal Academy, to lay on a small buffet – which is really all one needs after the opera – some cress, an egg mayo, maybe a haddock mornay…

If you want dinner, you have to give it yourself. Ed Jasper, the bedlinen expert, and Roland Mainflower dined some weeks ago. I had venison from Balmoral. The date was diarised in July. I wanted doctors to match Roland Mainflower. But none were available. I secured Charlie Hurling and the Sundance Kid. Very dangerous. Charlie Hurling thinks of the worst thing to say and says it, which is kind of Ed Jasper’s game too. Plus if Ed Jasper doesn’t like you, you’ll know about it. Then, last min, I suddenly thought: Dr Whipper and Olive Wildish… A doctor at least, but they’re friends of Charlie Hurling and the Sundance Kid. Ed Jasper could feel ganged up on…

My nerves beforehand … I was crystalline with nerves.

I nearly died in the drawing room beforehand. The strain, not to mention having to conduct the service. But, would you believe, it was all right. Dr Whipper and Roland Mainflower huddled in a corner of the drawing room – deep doctor talk. Ed Jasper said, ‘What nice people.’ They all decided to like each other. The Jasper party had to leave at 10pm, of course. It seems Roland Mainflower is still running a hospital – who knew? Why? But it means getting up early. Ed Jasper said, ‘Shall we make a scene or just slip out quietly?’ I said, ‘It’s an awful shame to pass up the opportunity to make a scene.’