Prince Dmitri’s 50th Birthday in a Greek Taverna «

Prince Dmitri’s 50th Birthday in a Greek Taverna

Thursday 30th January 2014

Today I threw away all the post and paid squillions to the tax people. In a way a relief to slough off a great slab of money. One feels lighter.

So, amidst a slight programme of engagements, Prince Dmitri Hersov’s delayed 50th birthday function (delayed almost to the point of its being his 51st birthday which is today) was in another class. As you know, the Prince is one of the few Poor Little Rich Gays to approach a state of Goodness. Very Russian, he contemplates the vast rolling Steppe of this life and despairs: so much treachery, greed, selfishness and cruelty, although not in his orbit.

But he’s got an art collection and, more importantly, a vinyl collection. That’s records. Not just floor to ceiling but from top to bottom of his three-storey residence. So many groups and solo artists, rare ensembles, underground collectives. He does not reject the mainstream but it has to prove itself. I can’t remember what he thinks of Britney.

We foregathered in his mews for Bollinger. Many of his friends from the vinyl world or the accounting world I’d not met before, all distinguished by warmth and friendliness, as you know not classic Poor Little Rich Gay qualities. I felt I could have pushed out a little more, given more instead of being in a gang with Elsa Hodgeman, the Gertrude Stein de nos jours, the Multis, Arabella von Gardendoor (last seen at the Russian Ball at the Albert Hall) and Bruce McBain, my private architect.

But of course we had so much business to discuss. The Multis were charming after their refusal of all invitations in Abstainuary and the Blond Multi so concerned not to hurt. Of course Elsa tends severely to the Left and the Photo Multi in particular gets very cross. On the other hand, splinter and conflict are essential in friendship from the Poor Little Rich Gay point of view. Princess Irina Hersov, sister of the Prince, spoke to the Multis for the first time in many years, more than spoke, was radiant. She has always feared that they might criticise her decor.

So there was much healing.

Then we removed to the Taverna, astonishing in itself, a real landmark, perfectly preserved from the 1970s or even the 60s. The owner does not always incline to open. The kitchen is just inside the front door. They’ve rigged up a garden extension out of rough wood. Many would be repelled by the peeling brown dilapidation of the outside from even entering, but they’d be wrong. Excellent food, unique atmosphere (it takes you back). Prince Dmitri had the whole thing and entertained 50 plus to a sit-down Greek slap-up. Oh the lavishment. Every known course. After the 5th main, it was rumoured that pork was still to come but it wasn’t which was a mercy because of so much food. But excellent, the real thing.

We were so happy at our table. We met a Lesbian couple, neighbours of the Prince’s in the mews, one of them not that keen on the Queen. We discussed Palestine and the possibility of making marmalade with less sugar.

The Prince was enchanting with the gift of enjoying his own party. He made a cute speech, every heart melted. He hates speeches. For the finale, the schoolboys who wait in the restaurant, brought in a cake surmounted by an icing vinyl record and with a roman candle stuck in it and alight. Their glee was a glory for the world.