This blog is an off-spring of www.parkeriters.com
Recognising people, or father not recognising them, is as
bad as not remembering their names, to both of which faults I’m prone. A woman
exercising with a trainer on the Oval this morning greeted the dogs
ecstatically (‘Oh, they remember me!’ – oh, no they didn’t; they greet everyone that
enthusiastically); and how was I, and so on. No idea who she was., but she
obviously remembered me. Slightly more irritatingly so apparently did her
trainer, an extremely beautiful young woman with a fine athletic body (more of
which was, happily, exposed to the morning sun than was covered by clothing):
‘Great to see you again . . .’ Maybe she
was just being polite; can’t think I’d forgotten her. If I’d remembered her I’d
probably have forgotten her name. I remember once when I was chairman of the
Society of Authors and Prince Charles was coming to present an award, I
thought, ‘Oh, God, I’m going to have to introduce the Executive Committee members
to him . . .’ and goodness knows I didn’t remember who they were even at meetings,
let alone on some mildly frightening formal occasion.
Told tickets for my talk on Byron have completely sold out.
Michael says the caterers have asked whether
we’d prefer Cornish or Devonshire scones with the jam and cream and
wine; not knowing the difference, I said that since Byron’s family had Cornish
roots (‘Mad Jack’ Byron, his grandfather, lived at Caerhayes, near St Austell)
I’ve suggested Cornish! I ran through the script and it comes out at about 50
minutes; always slower when really delivered, so I guess it’ll be about an
hour, which will be fine. Must try to remember to be reasonably deliberate
rather than scampering through as I so often do.
Julia’s been told that the Hong Kong Tatler is being redesigned and they no longer
need her horoscope column, which she
has been doing for over twelve years. Not much of a financial loss – they were
still paying the same fee they paid her when she started! – but a pity, all the
same. We're now thinfor an annual or maybe monthly smallish payment, just to see what happens. Free is fine, but free makes no profit!
Took the afternoon off and sat about
re-reading Wodehouse’s Jill the Reckless
– probably one of his weakest books, but fascinating because of its details
about how a musical was put on the New York in the 1920s or ‘30s. Plum knew all
about that, of course, being the finest librettist of his time (not excepting
Cole Porter; he was before Larry Hart, of course).
Strange that Rolf Harris is being accused of ‘making an indecent drawing’
of a young girl. Can there be such a crime? A crime no doubt to inveigle a
young girl to pose for an indecent
drawing – but that’s not what the indictment says. Very odd. But we shall learn
all in due course, no doubt. Walked the dogs out to Robinson’s Point – or at
least the Cremorne ferry wharf – at 8.30 and the temperature already 23° or
thereabouts. A certain amount of panting went on from all three of us. Met
Derek’s wife, who says her son is getting married on Saturday to a Vietnamese
girl (they seem very pleased about it, which
is good); her son-in-law, who is a priest, is marrying them here and
there’s to be a Vietnamese service later. Odd, all this religious shenanigan
that goes on– how can people think it has any meaning at all, when the gods are
all put in a pot and stirred well?
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