My Christmas Garland «

My Christmas Garland

Monday 15th December 2014

I fear that I shall have to explain how Chekhov made mayonnaise sooner rather than later, for my Christmas garland, suddenly discovered late last week to be already hanging around my neck this Christmas with both past and future glories was very nearly ripped from me and trampled all over by some unfortunate remarks on Friday. But after two days, I’ve managed to rally and continue.

I began, it emerges, on the very 1st day of December when Dainty Lady TV were bidden to Kensington Palace for an evening reception. Forging up the deserted and dark Diana Coffin driveway, I then was directed by a lone footman along an unending unpeopled gravel path to where another attendant indicated the front door of the Palace. Extraordinarily dark and solitary. Within the Palace the early 18th century apartments were also abandoned. Nobody there. Where was this party? At last, I heard voices and there was Lady Lucy Worsley of TV herself amidst the throng. The State apartments of KP are heavy and dark but the spirit of 18th century Christmas nevertheless prevailed, before the heavenly gloom and melancholy of the Victorians set in. Lady Worsley addressed the party and was very insistent in face to face conversation on coverage. ‘What are you doing for us?’ she demanded. Her address was about toilet arrangements for ladies in crinolines and the time a lady was refused permission by the King to leave the room so self-wee-ed on the spot. A Gay fancied me, according to Genevieve Suzy. He was from the Mirror. I don’t see how since he had a ‘partner’ with. Anyway, we amused yourselves by placing our heads above an crinoline dress and getting graphed thus (see below).

Then Genevieve ordered a taxi out of the looming darkness and solitude to the very door of the Palace. ‘We’re going to L’Escargot. It’s the Daily Mail weekend section party.’ So that’s what we did. Couldn’t hear a word. Genevieve got cross because I failed to register the Editor of the Daily Mail Weekend Section. Many faces were familiar, not just from the KP party but from by-line photos in the Daily Mail Weekend Section. Huge names, but I’d no idea who they were and no means of finding out owing to not being able to hear a word. Eventually Genevieve said, ‘You can go home now if you’re tired.’

Otherwise, there’s been Peter Acharya and Ned Czernowksi’s party on Friday, also attended by Aunt Lavinia who was urged to dance by Bruce MacBain despite two new half-knees and the other half of one on the way out. Then yesterday the Multis gave their annual mass pub lunch in the Midlands for friends and family. I drove Val up and he timed his announcement of acute biliousness to coincide perfectly with our reaching the raised section of the M4 near Chiswick where there is nowhere to stop. He’d only just finished a boiled sweet. I think it was wind.