Sunday 11^th September 2011

We remember 9/11 where many Poor Little Rich Gays died.

Our calling is hard; we must drive ever upwards (merely onwards isn’t enough) and the edge grows narrower the higher we go and the more mercilessly we are exposed. The Photo Multi, who allows himself to be completely known and knows no boundaries, suffered intermittently at the Tuscan villa, which closed yesterday. Someone interfered with the place names at dinner. Who was it?  Another took it upon themselves to style the chandelier with rosemary branches. Was the PM’s own styling for the dinner not enough? Captain Blond Multi had to soothe the PM in the bedroom as best he could.

Always, always, for the Poor Little Rich Gay, the dread of extinction.

At least the adorable Romanian cleaner was adequately tipped in the end. I had no cash on leaving the villa. The Photo Multi launched a hoax, insisting that cleared funds were in his account before any guaranteed transfer to Tatiana could take place. He supplied bank details. I held out for some days before moving £200 in, £50 for the tip and £150 for the darling Multis to buy something nice for themselves.

Now we are all friends with Tatiana on Facebook.

Yesterday I went to Great Dixter with Robert Nevil. It’s one of the most famous gardens in the world, if you’ve not heard of it. Thrilling to be reunited with RN after almost two months. He was so encouraging and sympathetic as always. Thundering down to Sussex in my official car, emblazoned with Xenon driving lights, we picked over the kitchen question (see glossary) and all the glories and horrors of the Poor Little Rich Gays. What excitements! What earthquakes! Poor Little Rich Gays play with fire, night and day.

I’ve not forgotten the kitchen question – my great meditation must be forthcoming tomorrow. But today is Bruce MacBain’s birthday function. I’m not taking the brunch, but I am taking the lunch.

Oh Great Dixter! I’m always uplifted and I’m always there with Robert Nevil. And yesterday there was the sudden gift of sunshine and warmth, when my iPhone had only promised autumn and rain. I love this time of year, the rich, deep light. The garden was a magical Poor Little Rich Gay chaos, all the rules broken, bitty planting, terrifying colour clashes, some of the worst plants in the world, messy self-seeded scraps everywhere. But what a whole! The whole thing so absolutely fuck-off and revelling in it all and I thought: I’ll re-think my garden for next year at once.

I was renewed, for £9.57.

The Multis gained their suite at the Hotel Hassler Villa Medici, Rome, yesterday, and achieved an exclusive parking space right outside.

All the Wrong Colours: the Long Border at Great Dixter Yesterday. These are Actually Pink Petunias!

Spotted Laurel in the Long Border at Great Dixter - One of the Worst Plants in the World

Jerusalem Sage in the Long Border at Great Dixter: Another Horror

But as a Whole It Works! The Long Border at Great Dixter Yesterday

Horrid Elements, Especially the Silver-Variegated Euonymus, Make a Superb Whole in the Barn Garden at Great Dixter Yesterday

The Multis' Room at the Hotel Hassler Villa Medici, Rome

The Multis' Hire Car in Exclusive Parking Space, Hotel Hassler Villa Medici, Rome