Wednesday 9^th June 2010

Do you know him? Minute, highly burnished dress designer?  Nearly a new race as far as skin colour concerned. Harry Rollo, the impresario and performance artist, gave a perf on Sunday night (Prince Dmitri and I dashed back from Lady Newell’s in the Porsche) to a world-famous audience in the Shoreditch neighbourhood. He stretched wires over water and rang bells, among other things. On Monday night, he texted, from La Residencia, Majorca as it happens: Watch this doc about Valentino on BBC4 at 9pm or die. The timing was perfect: I had been rather wondering: ‘What next for a Poor Little Rich Gay?’

Still no word from Anthony Mottram. I’m to be kept in Abu Ghraib for a while more.

Harry says the audience at La Residencia (I mean, other guests) is ex-footballers’ wives and their ex-footballers, min twenty years since the last match. Great mercy as means no Poor Little Rich Gays in sight.

So no competition – or trouble.

Of course the villa and hotel season is getting under way. Absolutely central to PLRG life. Robert Nevil boards tomorrow with Blanche Spain and Joshua Baring for three weeks in a fully-staffed luxe villa at Menton. The first of his three holidays this summer. He is absolute genius at getting into villa-life at the highest level. He and Sebastian Archer (still in New York for cosmetic treatment) once rose as high as Conde Nast although there was sadly a death.  I am detained in the punishment cell for the Mottram-backed re-visit to the orphans in Bulgaria. Then he will be with me for an Umbrian villa experience in August (I haven’t told you about that yet, have I?). RN will be suffering from appalling pre-boarding tension and anxiety about where the next meal is coming from while away from home – it all goes back to childhood.

The Multis are at the Voile d’Or, Cap Ferrat the last weekend of this month, by chance la meme moment que I will be at the Panoramic, Cap Ferrat for Ralph Kitto’s 50^th Birthday. In July I’m at St Tropez in Virgil Grayson’s house right on the sea, possibly to be joined by a very important historian of the Virgin, then I’m with Laura Malcolm and Matt Driver en Normandie for a het interlude.

By the way there was a terrific huff and puff re: CGT (that’s Capital Gains Tax) at Lady Newell and Elsa Hodgeman’s glorious lunch on Sunday (exquisite Elizabethan manoir outside Oxford, parade of ducklings through the grounds). The new Gov are going to put it up. You’ve probably heard. Matt Driver, husband of Laura Malcolm, the novelist, completely in favour. Why should those who produce pay more tax than those who merely own? He earns more than Smallmeal, head of landfill in this country, but is terribly strict on taxation. The Multis up in arms of course.  High CGT will damage economy as a whole. I’m sure they’re right. I’ve had to pay Cap Gains once or twice. I do think low taxes is nice.

Now, look, I’ve veered off into hotels and taxation. No time to tell you about utterly brilliant doc on Valentino. Come back tomorrow.