Sunday 15th May 2016

In the quest for antiques ( I really must have that Empire sideboard) and the frequent to and fro from the Far West (last night a hog roast was given to thank the family in the parish hall), chronology has gawn out of the window.

While I was gasping in London, Val came over at some point, in fact was sitting on the door step when I came back from shopping – he was early. I’d not seen him since mid-February when the agony of the valance took place. On that occasion, Val keeled before dinner could be served in his flat- or indeed made. He’s been giving out, since, that he’s annoyed with me and nocturnal emails have indicated my extreme thickness etc. On the doorstep, Val at once attacked by my Zara stretch-slacks with false fly. ‘Don’t they reveal rather more than we want to see,’ was his opening remark. I was prepared for this because Val loves to greet by homing straight in on a spot or a fault with one’s frockage. Only I didn’t rage as planned. I said, ‘Now then, Val, don’t be horrid before we’ve even begun.’ The valance is in play again, to the extent that Val has made off with the fabric. He’d intended to run it up in situ on Aunt Olive’s machine now in my possession but thought of another more elaborate plan that involved not doing it there and then. Instead we looked on eBay for the Portland Vase. And a cauliflower tea pot.

Otherwise I’ve been much with Angus Willis and Fergus Strachan, one evening mid-week and last Saturday night in Hastings. Angus has ferociously not wanted the Gay Mother’s cast-off Denby ware egg-cups. ‘We don’t have anything with a pattern in the shop.  “Harvest Green” not wanted.’ I said, ‘They’d come in useful were you ever in a David and Goliath situation. Those egg-cups could be lethal if slung. They’re the weight of stones.’ In the end I left them on his kitchen table. Mid-week we had an Angus Willis private dish last-minute in the Shoreditch warehouse – noodle-soup with sliced prawn cake, spiced crab paste, rare Eastern leaves and other glories. Eating it, Fergus said, ‘With Dermarola nobody need age. It’s totally unnecessary to age with Dermarola.’ Down in the cottage at Battle, we had another private Angus Willis dish of lamb cutlets with leaves and garlic-leaf pesto. I hope you know that garlic leaf pesto has been this spring’s signature dish, made so by Angus Willis, who shapes the Nation’s eating. Although often in Far West near hedges full of garlic leaves, unfortunately I’ve failed to make garlic leaf pesto.

On Sunday morning, Angus read the Sunday magazines with contempt. ‘Scones with pistachio and cranberry!’ he spiked. ‘They don’t understand what a scone is. Scones with Earl Grey and Lavender! It’s what you put on the scone that matters.’ Later Fergus failed in the kitchen. ‘You’ve overcooked the eggs again,’ Angus withered. But subsequently the verdict was revised.

I spent a lot of time looking at antiques on-line. I was beginning to be exercised about the Empire sideboard. Then we went to Dixter