Sunday 11th December 2011

I did love the art in Venice, really I did. On Monday I took Veronese, Guardi, Tiepolo x2, Palladio;  twice I assaulted the shut Fortuny Museum. Lunch was 95 euros.

But at Peggy’s I failed. I’ve been to her before and loved. But this time, it was the dog graves that absorbed. Visiting the previous day, Purbeck Crowhurst was suspicious: he is an international artist with a gothic bent, as well as a dog-lover.

‘I blame Jackson Pollock,’ he declared.

‘….?’

He’d spotted a high incidence of early dog death at a particular period.

Just the time, it so happens, of Peggy’s affair with the splurgist.

So now we know.

Me, I was stuck by the tiny-ness of Peggy’s dining table. Huge room, with little bench set-up marooned in the middle, barely space for 6 to huddle round nor hope for a plate to balance.

Peggy's Lost Dogs

Christmas Decoration at Peggy's