I am back, positively triumphant my dears, from dropping off the little ones at school and dealing with Sally Farquarson. I was a teensy bit naughty about it, I admit, but I think in the grand racing formbook of life, Sally will be marked as "fell at the first" on this one, which is immensely satisfying.
Sally always gets to school dead on ten past eight of course - her obsessive-compulsive disorder is still alive and well, although she is much better at controlling some of its more ludicrous manifestations, like that bizarre insistence that there must only be an even number of items on her plate (although I still garnish everything liberally with caviar when she comes to dinner, just for the amusement of watching her panicked surreptitious counting of all those lovely little black balls - aren't I a horror?). Anyway. So I made sure to get to school just as she was getting out of that funny little car she drives, with Lavinia. She blinded me with her tic-tac smile (I swear it gets brighter every week, makes the whites of her eyes look positively yellow in comparison, someone ought to tell her), and I told her how marvellous she was looking, which flummoxed her somewhat. After dumping the children, I hung back and fiddled with Lara's gym kit for a bit, to give her a head start back to her car. Then, (and this is the naughty bit), at the door of the school I hollered down the drive to her "Oh! Sally, I meant to mention - Lavinia's sleepover is a no-go I'm afraid. The Wales' have told me that they've promised the Wiltshires that they'll turn up to their bash that evening, so I think we are going to have to break up our lovely evening at home and all make an appearance. Such a bore, but I think we ought to have Lavinia another time. Bye!"
It couldn't have been more fabulous, because the drive was packed with people, including Beetle Carter-Jones who was half-in, half-out of her Cayenne and absolutely agog - she is such mates with Louisa Wiltshire and I know she'll go back and repeat my comments verbatim. Louisa will be spitting!
Must dash, I've got to phone Ralph Winterthur and book him and his wife up for the 19th. I need to do some digging and find out a bit about him, it is just maddening not knowing a thing of what he is about, I don't know whether he's someone I ought to be inviting to dinner and getting Rupes to suck up to, or someone who just gets a cheery wave when I'm walking Orca. I usually have such a wonderful natural instinct for these things, but bloody Americans just jam my radar. Too trying.
Minty xx
Tuesday 8 May 2007
Monday 7 May 2007
I haven't forgotten you all, honestly!
I can't believe that it has been so long since I've written in my lovely blog, I'm feeling too, too dreadful about it, but I honestly couldn't help it. The week I've had! I've just got to tell you all about it.
Well. You know the last time I posted I had got myself in a bit of a tizzy about the Wiltshire's party, and bloody Sally Farquarson and her passive-aggressive sleepover stunt? Well, the next day I phoned up my lovely girl at Elegant Resorts and told her that Rupert and I simply had to go somewhere spectacular that weekend, I didn't care where, she just had to come up with something fabulous. Well of course she did, but not until Friday. So I called Rupes at the office pronto, and said "Darling, I've had the most marvellous idea. You know how we never get away and have a lovely time all by ourselves? Well what about taking Necker for a week, in three weeks time, for a bit of pre-summer sun? Linda at Elegant Resorts says it's available, and I'm sure if you phoned Richard he'd make sure that masseur who gives tantric sex tuition would be on the island that week..." Well, it was a little obvious, but what with one thing and another poor Rupes hasn't been getting much action in the sack recently and I thought he'd leap on that suggestion like a Jack Russell on a rat.
But he didn't take the bait at all. "Minty, I can't just bugger off for a week on a whim you know," he practically barked at me "and you know I'm roadshowing Trident Ore Mining at the end of the month." "But Rupert!" I wailed in what I thought was a heartrending yet sexy way, "Can't you get Lewis to do your little show? What's the point in having minions if you end up doing it all yourself?" Well, he gave me 10 minutes of how useless Lewis was, and didn't I know that Trident would pay the bloody school fees for the next 2 years, and nobody went to the Caribbean in May anyway (which was a valid point, actually, nobody does) - and then cut me off. Disastre.
I was just pouring myself a little something to soothe my nerves, and trying to quell the mental image of Sally Bloody Farquarson's smug over-botoxed face which kept floating into my mind, and summoning up the strength to call Linda and tear her off a strip for suggesting the Caribbean in May, when the phone rang. It was Julia, Camilla's diary girl.
"Minty, I told the Duchess of Cornwall about your kind invitation for the night of the Wiltshire's do, and she was so sorry for the mix up in dates because she and Prince of Wales haven't seen you and Rupert for ages. But she had rather a marvellous idea." I was only half listening to her at this point, because I was trying to hold the phone and slice a lime to go in my gin at the same time, which is always a tricky manoever, no matter how often you practice it. "She and the Prince of Wales will be very close to you that afternoon, launching a new meals-on-wheels vehicle in Ogbourne Bassett. It would be such a bore for them to have to trek back up to Highgrove and back down to the Wiltshires for 8.00. So she suggested coming to Ogbourne Manor instead, so they can freshen up, change, have a few pre-party drinks and then go onto the Wiltshires with you and Rupert as part of their party. I'll talk to Louisa Wiltshire and make sure you are on their table for dinner. What do you think?"
Do you know, at that moment, I really, truly, for the first time in my life, actually believed in God. There was just no other explanation for this miracle. I was just desperate to be a fly on the wall when Julia phoned Louisa and told her that we would be in the Prince of Wales' party for her big bash. It was too, too perfect. "What a lovely idea!" I said to Julia. "Just one more thing" she said. "Would you mind terribly inviting Ralph Winterthur and his wife for drinks too? They'll also be on the Prince's table and the Duchess would love to see him at yours first." "Ralph Winterthur?" I said, confusedly. "You know, Ralph Winterthur. He's just moved into your Rectory." "Oh! Yes, of course, super." I said, and she rang off.
How on earth my little American man has got on such chummy terms with Charles and Camilla, I have no idea. Most extraordinary. Slightly irritating, frankly. Oh well, nothing could dent my joy that day. Of course I've been in Paris since then, sorting out what on earth I'm going to wear. I bundled Rupes on a Eurostar on Saturday and actually he was a lamb about it, probably feeling rather guilty about being so horrid about my Necker idea. He bit the bullet with grace in Chanel, and everything. Coughed up for the most marvellous dress, which Madeleine assured me wasn't being carried in the London stores. I do love Madeleine. Actually I love almost everyone at the moment. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to seeing Sally Farquarson on the school run tomorrow!
Must dash, Rupes has come downstairs wearing his silk dressing gown. He only ever wears his silk dressing gown when he wants sex, thinks it makes him look like Rudolph Valentino, poor deluded boy.
Minty xx
.
Well. You know the last time I posted I had got myself in a bit of a tizzy about the Wiltshire's party, and bloody Sally Farquarson and her passive-aggressive sleepover stunt? Well, the next day I phoned up my lovely girl at Elegant Resorts and told her that Rupert and I simply had to go somewhere spectacular that weekend, I didn't care where, she just had to come up with something fabulous. Well of course she did, but not until Friday. So I called Rupes at the office pronto, and said "Darling, I've had the most marvellous idea. You know how we never get away and have a lovely time all by ourselves? Well what about taking Necker for a week, in three weeks time, for a bit of pre-summer sun? Linda at Elegant Resorts says it's available, and I'm sure if you phoned Richard he'd make sure that masseur who gives tantric sex tuition would be on the island that week..." Well, it was a little obvious, but what with one thing and another poor Rupes hasn't been getting much action in the sack recently and I thought he'd leap on that suggestion like a Jack Russell on a rat.
But he didn't take the bait at all. "Minty, I can't just bugger off for a week on a whim you know," he practically barked at me "and you know I'm roadshowing Trident Ore Mining at the end of the month." "But Rupert!" I wailed in what I thought was a heartrending yet sexy way, "Can't you get Lewis to do your little show? What's the point in having minions if you end up doing it all yourself?" Well, he gave me 10 minutes of how useless Lewis was, and didn't I know that Trident would pay the bloody school fees for the next 2 years, and nobody went to the Caribbean in May anyway (which was a valid point, actually, nobody does) - and then cut me off. Disastre.
I was just pouring myself a little something to soothe my nerves, and trying to quell the mental image of Sally Bloody Farquarson's smug over-botoxed face which kept floating into my mind, and summoning up the strength to call Linda and tear her off a strip for suggesting the Caribbean in May, when the phone rang. It was Julia, Camilla's diary girl.
"Minty, I told the Duchess of Cornwall about your kind invitation for the night of the Wiltshire's do, and she was so sorry for the mix up in dates because she and Prince of Wales haven't seen you and Rupert for ages. But she had rather a marvellous idea." I was only half listening to her at this point, because I was trying to hold the phone and slice a lime to go in my gin at the same time, which is always a tricky manoever, no matter how often you practice it. "She and the Prince of Wales will be very close to you that afternoon, launching a new meals-on-wheels vehicle in Ogbourne Bassett. It would be such a bore for them to have to trek back up to Highgrove and back down to the Wiltshires for 8.00. So she suggested coming to Ogbourne Manor instead, so they can freshen up, change, have a few pre-party drinks and then go onto the Wiltshires with you and Rupert as part of their party. I'll talk to Louisa Wiltshire and make sure you are on their table for dinner. What do you think?"
Do you know, at that moment, I really, truly, for the first time in my life, actually believed in God. There was just no other explanation for this miracle. I was just desperate to be a fly on the wall when Julia phoned Louisa and told her that we would be in the Prince of Wales' party for her big bash. It was too, too perfect. "What a lovely idea!" I said to Julia. "Just one more thing" she said. "Would you mind terribly inviting Ralph Winterthur and his wife for drinks too? They'll also be on the Prince's table and the Duchess would love to see him at yours first." "Ralph Winterthur?" I said, confusedly. "You know, Ralph Winterthur. He's just moved into your Rectory." "Oh! Yes, of course, super." I said, and she rang off.
How on earth my little American man has got on such chummy terms with Charles and Camilla, I have no idea. Most extraordinary. Slightly irritating, frankly. Oh well, nothing could dent my joy that day. Of course I've been in Paris since then, sorting out what on earth I'm going to wear. I bundled Rupes on a Eurostar on Saturday and actually he was a lamb about it, probably feeling rather guilty about being so horrid about my Necker idea. He bit the bullet with grace in Chanel, and everything. Coughed up for the most marvellous dress, which Madeleine assured me wasn't being carried in the London stores. I do love Madeleine. Actually I love almost everyone at the moment. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to seeing Sally Farquarson on the school run tomorrow!
Must dash, Rupes has come downstairs wearing his silk dressing gown. He only ever wears his silk dressing gown when he wants sex, thinks it makes him look like Rudolph Valentino, poor deluded boy.
Minty xx
.
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