Tuesday 16th July 2013

Tomorrow I must return to London. Today I have achieved levels of relaxation almost unheard of for a Poor Little Rich Gay. Not even the energy to transfer the blocks for the cold bag from my Official car with Xenon driving lights to Laura Malcolm’s freezer. My plan is to re-patriate some French chickens for my 9-piece dinner on Thursday.  So must be transported through the Chunnel in a cold bag.

I glanced at my diary for the coming weeks until Tuscany on August 10th. Was immediately wan. Just don’t know how I’ll get through it. Harry Rollo has gone and created a major performance for tomorrow night. All London agog. I’m to be bolt upright in good seats, then on to a party in celebration after. On Thursday,as I say, a nine-piece dinner.

Frocks, perfume, dishes, conversation…

Still nothing heard of Robert Nevil, biographer of the Pony Club of Great Britain. He has evap into darkest Bulgaria.

Where, oh where, is Robert Nevil?