Wednesday 18th January 2017

Really important news is Val’s Christmas menu. Val made quenelles for Christmas. Not rabbit, though, but salmon. Rabbit quenelles were the death of an awful woman in the spectacular opening of Molly Keane’s Good Behaviour which is a novel. Val’s were salmon. Who has now heard of a quenelle, let alone made one? Suffice it to say, they’re an incredibly detailed, demanding French thing. The mixture has to be just the right consistency for the poaching, or they’ll fall apart. You’re left with a shiny, pale ‘shape’. Imagine a milk jelly turned out. The appearance must be perfect. Often they are made of pike. But taste is elusive to say the least. They are coated in a matching pale cream and egg sauce for serving.

It is reported that Laura Malcolm and a party watched ‘The Sound of Music’ over Christmas. ‘Are they a JAM family?’ Laura inquired, meaning ‘only just managing.’ It’s true there’s a lack of staff and food in the villa, although a great deal of singing and parading. Her friend, the Queen Mother, was distressed by apparent finger marks  around the door handles in the bedroom scene. This is when she sings ‘A few of my favourite things..’ and gets the idea to make costumes for the children out of the old curtains. ‘Couldn’t someone have Vim-ed?’ the Queen Mother wailed.

I asked the Gay Mother what her Christmas present was from Cousin Ruby. ‘It’s a spa,’ she said – which didn’t seem very likely. But I discovered later she was reading from the side of the box. A ‘spa’ means shower gel and that kind of thing in a collection. So now you know. The Gay Mother also said that Hickey is her favourite Miss Marple.

On my return to London I was asked to a buffet by Kernow Hellizon. I thought the large art work in the drawing room looked familiar. Perhaps it was by Bryan Organ who painted Prince Charles in an organic fashion. But no. It was a world-class painter one of whose works was destroyed at dead of night in a gruesome ritual by some of the highest ladies in the land, including the Queen Mother. On another wall was a drawing of Lord Goodman. I saw him once in person at a concert at St Johns’ Smith Square. This was in the 70s. Some searing ladies asked Anthony Mottram and myself what we were doing there since it was an evening dress gala we’d accidentally crashed not in evening dress. We gave them hell, even in those days.

Among the other guests was a world-class philosopher so people were begging for answers which were not forthcoming. One had already achieved a solution  though which is choral evensong.  I thoroughly agree. I had a long talk about Twirly Godfrey with one of the other critics. This was a rare evening.