Monday 28th January

‘The Queen of Versailles’ on TV.  Florida trailer-trash who tried to build the biggest home in America!

Queen Beatrix has abdicated!

What a day for Queens.

I’m beginning to wonder if Miroslav, my Polish builder, isn’t somehow on a lay-line. Surely it’s beyond co-incidence? First of all, he tells me he’s quoting for a job in Museum Street. I say ‘That’s where Elsa Hodgeman lives.’  The Gertrude Stein de nos jours, you recall? Kingpin of the art world, former Turner Prize judge. She tried a salary but couldn’t be doing with it. So Miroslav goes on, for some days. Then he drops: ‘Now I must be with Elsa!’ Can you believe it! He’s doing up Elsa’s massive staircase in her cleverly gained (at a low or non- rate) West End mansion!

On the other hand, he’s working for Bruno France Bruno, the mystery Poor Little Rich Gay (always a Picasso in the bedroom, not his own). But that’s through Reggie Cresswell, and further back through Bruce McBain, our private architect,who bought in Miroslav in the first place. Today Miroslav told me that Bruno France Bruno’s got a secretary.

I mean a home secretary.

Well, that’s something none of us have thought of.  Or have got. But must now have. Must, must, must.

Meanwhile we’re all very concerned about poor Rufus Pitman whose toe is badly infected. He’s on pital with view of the Palace of Westminster. Joan Bakewell has sent messages. Of course he’s Poor Little Rich Gay-ed all the nurses who are thrilled to wheel his bed to any part of the building he wishes, abandoning all other patients even mid-drip or with their dressings half ripped off. On Friday I visited the pital and who should appear but Lord Arrowby – in astonishing elephant cords by Paul and Joe in an indescribable not quite lemon shade and a brown puffer. Well, he’s been on an equally astonishing train ride. Completely and utterly exclusive ! Some very great powers crossed Lord Arrowby and had to get back on the right side of him.

But what’s Lord Arrowby been doing at home? Head in Government papers? Collecting art? Down the Royal Vauxhall Tavern?

to be con’t