All that glitters

IMG_0581Denise and I hugged goodbye.  “Keep in touch” she said.  “I want an update on Tolga.”

Indeed there could not have been a more appropriate private view in the world to attend other than Lincoln Townley’s ‘W1’ last night.  I wasn’t even sure why I was there – other than a very lovely invite from my celeb cuz who I’m occasionally honoured to accompany on such jaunts. But, at the end of the evening I knew exactly why.

I googled the artist en route to the Royal Academy, only to discover he is way up there with the portrait painters of today.  Hollywood hasn’t escaped him – and recognition is worldly and unanimous. I was particularly struck by his painting of Al Pacino.

Having found the gallery within this noble institution – ‘To the right of the courtyard at the far end’ Bex’s message said – I wandered in to friends and family of the artist and various other showbiz acquaintances.

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Stiletto Biatch

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I’m not prone to swearing.  In fact it takes a lot to get me up there with the best of them.  Notice I’m even unable to say the ‘B’ word as it should be said, but rather a variation of it. However, I suspect another couple of days of this pain will result in me screaming it from the rooftops.

“You don’t like being ‘off games’ do you S?” my companion from the scene of the crime remarked over the telephone.  I reached down towards my left foot, adjusting the pink sock ice pack so delicately placed for maximum coverage.  I wondered where I could get an ice pick to make smaller pieces – heart shaped ice cubes are really not the best.
“No T, I do not” I replied.

The night had started innocently but stridently enough.  Schmancy party-heeled clad, T App’d a black cab. We hopped in as he and Dave began the banter that saw the meter still ‘off’ until half way there. T pointed it out to him,  We watched as he reached up to click the switch, still laughing: “Sorry about that guv” he said, “I just got lost in the moment!”

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The heart of the matter

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Sometimes in London one wonders where the heart is, where it’s gone, what happened to it? After a particularly hectic big smoke day I headed out to the Natural History Museum to accompany my starry cousin as her plus one at the European Diversity Awards.

Wandering inside to join dinosaurs and all things crusty, I wondered if everyone else felt as I did – ready to slump in the first available chair.  Sort of, one’s arrived, now one can rest up, take a chill pill and just hang.

Of course it’s never like that at a black tie awards event.  Usually there are meets and greets required, handshakes and schmoozing, congratulatory kisses.  It’s impossible to relax.

But, tonight was different.  Really different.  Celebrating diversity in all its forms, Sandi Toksvig reminded us that on the very ceiling we craned our necks to check out were images of plants from all over the world – a diverse selection.  She also reminded us that the dinosaur we sat beside at white rose and hydrangea decorated tables was unidentifiable as a male or female.  Why?  Because apparently the genitalia disappear over time making it impossible to tell.

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Needle on the record

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“I haven’t got any ID with me by the way” my 21 year old City trader companion for the evening remarked as we headed out for drinks.

“Well – what’s the age now? Isn’t it 18? Aren’t you legal?” I asked a little clueless on not having come up against this issue for a while.

“Yes of course, it’s just sometimes I get asked.”

Chiltern Firehouse was our destination for the evening. Ah, like an illicit lover she carelessly drew our attention – all charm and good looks, subtly seductive with the attention to detail that makes us weak at the knees and powerless to resist.

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Disco dancing Jagger style

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I can always tell when my cousin is on the school run.  Apart from the time itself – around 4.45pm – the bellowing wind enveloping her usually causes a shouting match as she marches up the hill towards her son’s place of learning.

Me:  “RACH!  LOVELY HJORDIS FROM IBIZA HAS SENT AN INVITATION TO WHAT LOOKS LIKE A PROPER OLD SKOOL DISCO NIGHT.  IT’S CALLED THE RETURN OF JEZEBEL HOSTED BY BODY AND SOUL – A CHARITY – AND JADE JAGGER.”

Rach: (even louder than me):  THAT SOUNDS NICE!  COUNT ME IN!

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