On My Birthday’s Eve «

On My Birthday’s Eve

30th September 2014

Tomorrow I undertake a gruelling programme but thrilling. I lunch at the Multis’ Cafe, Val is to join (he’s taken up book binding), stop off at a leading hotel for a glass of champagne at 6.30 with a surprise person (you won’t believe it) before going on to Frankie-Doreen’s for a quiet private dinner. I do hope there’ll be time for shopping. I haven’t even begun to get a grasp on the Autumn look. Apart from the new turquoise mac by Prada from Prada Factory shop Montevarchi, I haven’t a thing to wear. Did I tell you that there’s a hole in my Balenciaga cardy, reduced from £768? It developed just as I was leaving for Hastings the other day. Genevieve Suzy said, ‘You’ll just have to get through the evening with the hole in it.’ I tried to mend it on the train. I’d brought a needle and thread. Genevieve pointed out what I never knew – that that little nick in the side of a reel of thread can be used to cut off a length and makes a clean break. But really, she said, the cardy should be invisibly mended at Seven Dials. Don’t try it yourself. So that’s where it is now.

Otherwise on that train journey we discussed gussets. She revealed that Angus Willis and Fergus Strachan are a one-pant couple. They wear each other’s pants, not at the same time of course. But they don’t have separate collections of pants. What about gusset-management? I said. Do they bleach their gussets? She didn’t know.

Lord Arrowby is to give a brunch for his own birthday on Saturday although the actual day is Sunday. This is unheard of – the giving of a brunch I mean. No more has been heard of the skiing holiday. He’s been frantic trying to save the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. Maybe it’s for the best, because I could be killed on the slopes. A few are.