Friday 20th July 2012
No, not that Priory. These Poor Little Rich Gays took a Priory in Sussex for the weekend.
Landmark Trust – do you know it? V. superior.
Prince Dmitri Hersov, of the Accountancy Firm, and I went down by train last Saturday because we’d got to be back for the My Fair Lady prom. Lucky to have him with me, an accountant at the highest level, because you needed to be able to count the carriages to avoid being hived off to Littlehampton. The train divided at Haywards Heath (more 1st class season tickets from here than any other station). If you couldn’t count which carriage you were in, you’d be in danger of Littlehampton.
So, Marcus Cargill, England’s leading clock mender (oh yes, at the Lily Safra level) and Hamish McCory took this Priory with these new Poor Little Rich Gays for the weekend, although they all live just a few miles away. Their publican and partner were also of the party.
The Priory’s got its own private ruins and is nestled in a crook of the Downs.
East Sussex – near Glyndebourne. One of the best counties of England for residence. You can be enclosed but not hemmed in. There’s always a view. Great Dixter’s the same. To me, this is England.
The Multis came down by car. They too had to be back for a Gala that evening at Covent Garden given by Trenton’s gallery, which they support.
We were so refreshed and soothed after London engagements. Lord Arrowby’s party had been only the night before, after which I was barely standing. It was beamy, this Priory, but not nooky, in fact spacious, with Georgian elements. We paraded round, planning improvements, especially extra bathrooms, before a most comforting lunch with fine wines.
Now these new Poor Little Rich Gays. One of them is actually the Bond Dealer who has been briefing me privately about the Libor Rate scandal. This was not the first time I’ve met them. But suddenly they’re on board! So thrilled with them. They do go to pubs and are not so utterly rarified as some Poor Little Rich Gays. The other, Rupert Aubrey, sang exquisitely ‘On the Street Where You Live’ from My Fair Lady and explained that, on holiday recently in Ibiza, he had become exasperated (reason not known) and boarded at once for London. At Heathrow, he changed his mind and, hammering to return, took the only remaining seat on the next flight back which happened to be Club Class.
£1000 round-trip. Not bad.
Marcus said, ‘Oh, I think he regained after lunch. I’d forgotten all the whole thing until you mentioned it.’
Seven dogs were present in the Priory, belonging in not quite equal proportions to the gay couples in residence. They were either black or white, no colour variation permitted. All pedigree of course.
The Priory: Interesting Bannister
The Priory: Dogs in Black or White
Black Dogs
The Priory: Drawing Room. We'd Get Rid of that Blue
RSS Feed
Given cause of sad demise of dry-cleaner’s dog, I am now very worried about Poor Little Gay Dogs at Priory, one of which in one of your photos appears to be eating … a CHICKEN BONE. Please can you reassure us that this Poor Little Gay Pet is still alive?
Also, could you please advise on whether one can feed dogs on kitchen bones? I suspect these may not be quite as dangerous, but some of your readers may have acquired rather a pile of them and will wish to dispose of them safely.
I have always understood that kitchen bones are instant death to any dog, whether Poor Little Rich Gay or just an ordinary member of the dogs. But I’ve never taken a dog on account of hygiene and the threat to the home they pose, so can only go on hearsay.
I advise that Poor Little Rich Gays find other means of disposing of their old kitchen bones, possibly by telephoning to the Police Station