Angus Willis's photo shoot for Australian Vogue

The Multis wine purchases in preparation for the arrival of Elsa Hodgeman

Tuesday  18^th August 2009

 Our Tuscan setting is gay perfection. The landscape is austere, contrived and important, granted permanence by great artists. No horrid, craggy, just-as-nature-left-it Lake District horror here. Bruce MacBain would approve. On the other hand, there is Donatella, who has been engaged for a reckless number of hours by the Multis to provide what Anthony Mottram would call ‘breakfast service’. Think Barbara Windsor as naughty French maid. Except that Donatella is a rich burnished terracotta, coiffed and outfitted to a level beyond vac-ing or dusting. Her cork mules limit movement. Maybe she will gossip and go in for naughty talk like the excellent ladies who run Massivebury, the Limpney/Smallmeal country res.

 Poor little rich gay employers tend to bring out the filthy side in lady domestic staff. It is not quite what you expect. These women, of course, have never known such larks.

 Prince Dmitri Hersov, one of the Multis’ oldest friends (they were at the accountancy school together) is here and speaks good Italian. But he is proper.

 Speaking of the Limpney/Smallmeals, the Exocet missiles have arrived, but lie abandoned in the grass. I find I have no real urge to fire them off. Maybe it is the heat. It would be rather awful if my loathing were to go off the boil. Suppose I were just to forget about them?

 Yesterday, the Multis set off on a tour of grand wine establishments with Prince Dmitri in the Porsche and Marcus Cargill, who is England’s leading clock restorer and incidentally was at prep with Anthony Mottram (it’s a small world when you’re at the top). Marcus is noted for responding to the recent economic downturn by tripling his quota of holidays. They returned late in the evening with numerous of those rather sinister wooden cases very grand wine comes in that look rather like coffins.

 I must confess, although it is early in the holiday, I am so far only down about 50 euros. As you know, I have budgeted £6000 for living expenses while here. But these wine-buying outings are a little worrying. What if the Multis suddenly turn round and say, ‘That’ll be £40,000’?

 Just like that, there could be no money left.

 What seemed to give them most delight was a china ex-ashtray they bought at Baron Ricasole’s for 31 euros. No-one smokes now so it is a nibbles try. They squealed and giggled as they got it out of the box. At Baron Ricasole’s one of them’s shoes had been admired. More child-like, gurgling pleasure.

 You remember we were curious about how the Multis would dress in Tuscany. In London they are continual tailored suits, massive cufflinks – the business look gone mad. Well, here, it is the butch army shorts as I suggested, but the amazing stripped or floral or both shirts are retained as are the glamorous and unlikely shoes by Jeffrey West.

 There’s so much more to tell you. Robert Nevil and Anthony Mottram have raised profound philosophical questions in their comments. I hope you have seen. Why are we rich? Were we happier on those basic holidays of student days? But I’ve no time now. Nor to tell you how lunch yesterday was delayed because Angus Willis was busy photographing it for Australian Vogue. In the end, Fergus Strachan (he is Angus’s partner; terrifying lawyer, massively rational but devoted to bathroom products) and I became models. It was the only way we could get anything to eat.