Monday 13th July 2009

What a day! Tomorrow Robert Nevil and I board for Bulgaria at the crack where we visit the orphanage at Sir rola luka (spelling all wrong. Will check) that Anthony Mottram takes an interest in. The orphans are staging a street drama next Saturday. The theme is Bollywood.  I am to give a class in moisturising and face care, according to Mottram. Why? Robert Nevil and I have been competing all day in the pre-boarding tension stakes. I had to cram in a One-day fish course at the Leith School of Cookery. It was a present. On the way there who should be standing on a random street corner as I whizzed past on my bike but Robin Smallmeal – again!  Twice in the space of a week! I had just enough time to glare and as per great whips of leccy scored the air, with me, I must admit, wrenching  the voltage box to max, as it were.

Is this really a suitable way of a man of fifty to behave?

The fish course was all boning and fileting and wine reduction sauces – the sort of thing only high queens or desperate housewives would go in for, which latter I upset by saying that I’d never bother at home to make a salmon noisette tied up with string. All the same, my fileting and trimming was more exquisite than anyone else’s.

Then it was dash back to my official home for massive onslaught of pre-boarding tension. I’ve yet to put the things in the case and order the taxi for the crack. I’ve done all that ghastly folding though but, I hate to confess it,  I’m packing a shirt that has already been worn. Absolute golden rule – only clean clothes are packed. As I was laying out my wardrobe for the week, I thought, ‘I must dress designer for the orphans.’ Isn’t it awful? Mottram has given me a whole lot of Indian junk to take out for the Drama festival. I can’t see how it’s going to fit in my suitcase, but if I eject it in favour of outfits Anthony will say I should put others first, especially those less fortunate.