Lurching Up to Christmas Part One «

Lurching Up to Christmas Part One

Thursday 10th December 2015

I’m subject to moods these last weeks. There have been black days with ruin in the face staring. Terrible days on the metal markets and other markets, such as the social one. As I mentioned from this Tuesday I faced a blank diary. But I’ve been saved. Some last minutes have come in. This time of year is a trial for Poor Little Rich Gays who are not violently given to delirious happiness nor hugely well-anchored or who have suffered losses. If Poor Little Rich Gays are truly cared for, they will probably spend these days elsewhere, filling their diaries with those that care for them less to show that they have no needs. But I’ve had Genevieve Suzy very much at my side. We launched December and the great lurch to Christmas with the Historic Palaces Reception at Kensington Palace – so historic and haunting. We were there for Dainty Lady TV, Genevieve, although now the Head of Dainty, unusually in the plus-one role. Later at the Daily Mail Weekend Section Christmas Party I was back to plus-one-hood. All through the evening, Robert Nevil was hissing and splitting in the background via electronic means. He can’t bear Lady Lucy Worsley, who is the back-bone of the Historic Palaces and was installed at the party almost as an exhibit, this year in a non-speaking role. Nor can he bear the Daily Mail. Well, I love it, especially when they’re paying but it is a certain kind of world, to say the least. Genevieve loves it because it is male even when female and men love her, especially in Roland Mouret as she was. Somehow they must please her, even though they’re Chief News Editor or Head of TV Listings. Her power terrifies and thrills them.

On Wednesday I recovered from the Daily Mail Weekend Magazine Christmas Party and Robert Nevil was a bit nicer down the phone. On Thursday I thought to go nowhere but wanted to hear more at first hand about the Queen. She had been mentioned at Kensington Palace by an old aristocrat on one of the gossip pages who’d met her at a funeral after-party where she’d shown fascination with the folding glasses of the daughter of the dead woman. The only hope was Generalina’s art opening above a pub in Earlsy Courtsy. Her grandfather was an absolute whirlwind of a World War 11 American General. She’s been going for years and Robert Nevil, in the 80s, returned tri-coloured pasta in her back kitchen after excessive intake in her front quarters which were rigged with tartan and called Balmoral although only 4 at the most could get into the room. I knew Marmion Beaufleasance would be there. And he was and poured forth with marvellous richness and was a marvellous tonic. Ronnie Ronnie also was present: his Tittles, mounted on his head, had been put on backwards by the powers that be – was also more of a chestnut as opposed to the previous russet shade. Other incredibly young older gays were cosying up with younger gays. I got back to Fitrovia from Earlsy Courtsy just as Eddie Sedgewick’s Art opening there was closing and we dined after I’d admired his new Paris terrorist attack art which is awfully good. So an evening flared up out of nowhere. Eddie got free champagne in the restaurant: we waited for the result of the war vote in the House of Commons: Eddie’s special intimate is the MP for Whirly and Lorraine. Next door some people from Gravesend were also talking about the Vote with no idea how close they were to the centre of things. But Eddie is rather depressed: he was annoyed that his Paris terrorist-attack art was hung in an obscure corridor by the kitchenette. The world is falling part, he said. The young are hopeless. The art world similar. He can’t think what more to give. But he’ll bounce back, you can be sure.

Come back, come back, oh come back later for more.

Kensington Palace: Lit Privately for the Reception Given by Historic Royal Palaces: Maille Mustard with Chablis and White Truffle was In the Goody Bag