Thursday 2^nd June 2011

Today is the 55^th Birthday of Robert Nevil, biographer of the Pony Club. Tuesday was the 16^th Birthday (that’s an estimate) of Arjan Bose, of the doctoring world.

Actually I’m somewhat criked. The tasks! My gardens are being shown on Saturday. I’m scratched to bits by my roses trying to get them in place. I’ve been besieged by seedlings for the third phase of planting for late July, Aug and Sept. Nowhere to put them.  I think I’ve an allergic reaction around the eye from plant matter biffing. So just as the most diarized weekend ever known looms, I’m grotesque.  Thanks so much. I can’t believe I’ve been in this house 14 years and never had coat pegs. Coats have been slung over the banister, spoiling the most important view of all – the one gained on entrance, also concealing a gracious newel post.

I’m trying to source a reclaimed white coat-peg board from Angus Willis who usually has such things in stock. As for the phone wires trailing on the drawing room floor… At lunch today (we’d been at the Silver Vaults in Chancery Lane for wedding presents for that Bath Abbey wedding: there’s another thing: I’ve nothing to wear. Silver prices have rocketed), Aunt Lavinia said she’d heard a motto: ‘A clean house shows a wasted life.’ So wrong, but I didn’t say so. Actually she has a cleaner.

Last night Connor Cadoux, of the Australian Poor Little Rich Gays, dined at the Multis. He has recently joined a massively known financial house, says it’s fearful hard work. I said: you try should running the home and getting outfits bought for an important wedding.

The Photo Multi took us round the wraparound terrace. He said: ‘I like that spider there.’ He meant, it had styled itself well into its position. He gestured to the far hills of Sydenham or wherever. ‘I want a sign on them, like the Hollywood sign, saying “Hills”.’ The thinking seemed to be that people would go to see the letters and then get a good view of his penthouse atop the riverside tower. If they had binoc they’d see him and the Blond leading their unimaginable terrace life.

But there’s talk of the Multis buying into central London and using the Penthouse as a weekend retreat.

As far as I can see, I can only allot six hours to shopping for the Bath Abbey wedding outfit.

It’s desperate.

There’s no hope of anything more than the present near-engagement with Lord Arrowby, my part-time love interest, given the state I’m in. I just haven’t the time for anything more.

Look, I’ve not told you how it all came about and the astonishing affair of the invitation to visit the Stuart-Smith garden in Hertfordshire on 20^th June. Lord Arrowby is coltish, gloriously difficult, and really rather boyish.

You’ll have to make do with this graph for the time being.

The Important Part of Lord Arrowby, my Part-Time Love Interest