Tuesday 4th March 2014

All last week was the Gay Mother’s 90th Birthday. There were three functions, the tea for village, church and neighbours on the Sunday, the lunch for rellies, old friends and advisors on the Tuesday and finally, the London lunch, on Saturday, at Shoreditch House, on the back of Aunt Lavinia having her 80th party there two years ago, arranged by her granddaughter Cousin Barley, who’s in fashion and on the Committee.

I’ll be very cross if it turns out that this was not the first 90th birthday at Shoreditch House. I quizzed the staff and they thought there might have been a 50th.

Overall, assisted by me, the Gay Mother entertained 95 people for her 90th Birthday. ‘I’m not a hostess,’ she said, struggling with the Shoreditch placement the day before. Indeed, in the entire 1960s, she and my father gave one dinner party as I recall. But she has the old-fashioned grace, spotting anyone stranded at once and homing in to mix them and save their lives. My God, she worked at her parties at 90 years of age! Glamour and self-drama she has always refused. From earliest days, at 3 or 4 years old, I struggled in vain to get her to adopt more jewels, furs and heels. But she is formidable, a great lady even though, unlike me, she would never lay claim to position. But if you are a pheasant in the wrong place or one who has left a gate open or lit a barbeque and left debris, you will know where you stand. She had all the heaters switched off at Shoreditch House.

The lunch at Shoreditch was my first £2000 a head affair with flowers at £120. Mercifully in the graphs I don’t look too wracked. I made a speech. Lord knows what it was about and whether anyone could hear. Full poise and soigné regality elude as always.  I sat with Cousin Corin and we had family therapy. Her granny, my aunt Olive, long gone, was really awfully criked. Her own father had committed when she was two. Cousin Corin brought an unexpected toddler with her, who turned out to be a huge asset. The unexpected is often the thing that makes the party.

Speaking of babies, the day before the Gay Mother and I visited another baby, provided by a young relly in January. I’ve decided to be bitter about babies, apart from Cousin Corin’s. It really is a stark choice: either decor, hair, gloves and bags: or babies. You can’t have both. Although the Gay Mother claims now to care nothing for carpets, at the time there was a dread of desecration in the drawing room. Sticky fingers on the damask, the flower vases knocked over, spillage, breakage…

But back to Shoreditch: I visited the other end of the table and found Laura Malcolm talking dirty with the one of the young cousins, Cousin Sampson. He’s a very driven young man and was loving it. Laura Malcolm and Matt Driver, her husband, had been out at Annabel’s until 3 in the morning for reasons unknown. The Multis were exceptionally gracious. We’d been so worried about their placing but they accepted the wines and foods although they’re used to Claridges and pushed out towards unknown companions.

Towards the end it was so romantic. The sun had shone throughout and began to sink at 4pm. Lovely nostalgic light, rich and golden.  On the rooftop, members of Shoreditch House ,not in the peak of fitness, dashed through cool air for the heated outdoor pool in their swimmies (that’s trunks). Cousin Corin’s little girl insisted on a pool tour, just to look, not get in. In the street below, as we parted, Laura Malcolm and Matt Driver were graphed by the Photo Multi as ghosts in the blasting rays of the setting sun.

But I forgot to say: Cousin Barley gained late from Paris Fashion Week, in full fashion rig. She’d had an encounter with one of the great Glossies to whom she’d tried to explain that she is expecting. ‘Is that what that this? I thought you’d eaten too much bread,’ the Glossy quipped.

Also Robert Nevil was going on to address a mass meeting of the Pony Club at the Methodist Central Hall.

The Luncheon About to Forge Forth at Shoreditch House on Saturday: graph, the Photo Multi

Frockage for the Gay Mother’s 90th Birthday Party. This isn’t Her Though: Graph, the Photo Multi

These Flowers were Done by Rikki Mikki at £120: Graph, the Photo Multi

The Simple Scene, at £40,000 a head: Shoreditch House for the Gay Mother’s 90th Birthday: graph, the Photo Multi

Quinoa on the Menu: Pronounced ‘Keen-Whar’: graph, the Photo Multi

View from Shoreditch House As the Sun Began to Set on the Gay Mother’s 90th Birthday Party: graph, the Photo Multi

Shoreditch House: Her Pool at Sunset: graph, the Photo Multi

Goodbye, Shoreditch House: graph the Photo Multi