“It’s brain,” I said: “pure brain! What do you do to get like that Jeeves? I believe you must eat a lot of fish, or something. Do you eat a lot of fish, Jeeves?” “No sir.” (My Man Jeeves, PG Wodehouse)
I saw Ariadne auf Naxos again on Wednesday at Holland Park; a very different kettle of fish to Longborough. This time the players were allocated caravans to change in, not dissimilar to the ones given to Gregory Peck and Sophia Loren when they were making Arabesque in Wales.
What on earth am I supposed to do? I have been deprived of complaining about the London weather for weeks. I have been having cold soups, salads, gallons of rosé – I hope EJ Murgatroyd isn’t reading today – and fortunately there is AC in my attic bedroom.
Last week I visited Strawberry Hill House in Twickenham. It has been extensively restored and only fully re-opened in 2013. It is open from Sunday to Wednesday so more of a destination for Retired Folk.
I have just finished the last of the three books by Frank Gardner that I was given for my birthday: Crisis. The first two are autobiographical and this is a thriller with an unimaginative title.
FTWeekend has lost some of its appeal, so many articles are advertisements in disguise (advertorial). So it was refreshing to read Jonathan Heaf’s piece on men’s smells.