We Skim and Flit in Stockholm: Meanwhile in London, I Throb at the Core «

We Skim and Flit in Stockholm: Meanwhile in London, I Throb at the Core

Tuesday 26th January 2016

Actually, I’m out of London with the Gay Mother but had I been in residence I’ve have been at the Royal Academy PV for the Monet/Manet Garden Show. The Royal Academy PVs are just about the highest imaginable. I went to the one for Hockney, if you remember, and everyone was there. What’s more, The Real Marigold Hotel is being shown on TV tonight (but I shan’t be watching: no need): two of the celebrities involved are intense intimates of Bruce McBain and one known to Frankie-Doreen. What’s more, last night I went to see The Big Short with Merle Barr and the Lords of Hastings and who should we bump into but Marmion Beaufleasance! So close to the Throne! ‘Give my best wishes to the Queen,’ I said on parting.

But back to Stockholm, where I was last week. We saw a huge ship which is the mega attraction of Stockholm, but, as you know, creamy grey, gilt and glass were our real craving – or mine at least. Also my hat – ‘What is that thing on your head?’ Prince Dmitri said. I began to wonder: Would not fur be preferable to dead dog nylon? The ship was huge and very old. There’s no other like it in the world. All the other wooden ships of the 17th century and older failed to survive. This one sank within 2 hours of launching on 10th August 1626 in the brackish waters off Stockholm. It was the brackishness what saved it. In the 1950s, Vasa was dragged up again and reassembled for viewing in the present museum – a huge, dark thing, towering above, with the stern a great tower of carving. Originally it would have been garishly painted: but now a sort of monster come back from the Past. As the only one left, somehow not meant to be, louring, frightening really.

On the way back we loved the sunset. The world that far North goes briefly into violent shadow against brooding blue and orange before darkness. Then a fur hat shop loomed. Unlike Gustavian (those rooms I made the Prince hover beneath once again), the fur hat shop was as if mounted on rail tracks coming towards us as we wished. I would have taken the mink one, but the rabbit was a better fit. PM also took rabbit. So we left the shop fully furred. In the evening we were at the Opera: Figaro’s Marriage. The Opera incredibly egalitarian: hardly any fur, all the men in grey flannel slacks and jumpers, dog-earred. At the end, no limos, no chauffeurs, no even any taxis. The next day was to be Drotters and Gustavian was within reach.