December 07 2012
For no real reason I have switched my allegiance to Caramac. I rarely see this prince among chocolate bars, and it is redolent of my youth and of sweet shops with a smell of new comics, magazines, sherbet and biscuits. They had bells above the door that gave a sharp ping and then set themselves a-jangling long enough for the shopkeeper to look up. I used to set about how to spend my thrupenny bit with the same concern and detail that I am now exerting on buying a flat.
I have a lovely meeting with Gav, an inspired modeller (whose mother-in-law is reading my blog, apparently, so hello) who has just made the personification of life and good for me. She is a very beautiful, warrior-like lady and opposes the Grim Reaper. They are to be mounted on a set of candlesticks – part of a table service that will climax with a battle between good and evil, darkness and light, in the centrepiece.
I like the idea that, whoever ends up owning this, it will be around for centuries and will still, I hope, delight people. This is the antithesis of silver and jewellery as fashion, and requires a lot of hugely skilled silversmiths, sculptors, engravers and polishers. Gav is helping me make a chess set of Asian cats, and we are concurrently making one with African cats as well, so I am gaining more arcane feline facts with which to bore people. So many readers have asked me about the Mole ring I mentioned a few days ago that I am including a link. I should point out that we also make things that cost no more than a good night out.
We dine at Bar Boulud at the Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park with the über-agent Ed Victor and his adorable wife, the amazing Carol Ryan. There are not two more agreeable and entertaining companions on Earth. We briefly discuss the afterlife, so, knowing what Ed believes, I will give him his credit in the present. I eat a delicious burger called a Piggie, and this little one certainly went to market.
We get back to my daughter’s flat to find the endgame of what has obviously been an excellent dinner party. We were going to go to bed and watch the last episode of The Fear, but karaoke beckons, and having watched an extraordinary Music of the Night, I feel emboldened to do Sweet Caroline. Like everyone present, I wish I hadn’t. After that, The Fear holds none.