Pour a glass of Puligny Montrachet and settle down for a riveting read!

Right darlings, well I've promised you a blow by blow account of the Wiltshire's bash, and I haven't forgotten you (even though it was WEEKS ago now and I expect you've heard it all from someone or other, it's been the talk of the County).

Well the D of C and I had a simply lovely time getting ready for the party, my Chanel fitted like an absolute dream and was just so, and she looked jolly nice in something Robinson Valentine had knocked up for her, although she said it was a bloody pain in the arse that she had to wear British all the time, she fancied a bit of proper french couture, but the upside was that at least she had some knockout rocks. We had a couple of extremely dry martinis, and after the third one she said "Shall we just stay here this evening? We always have such a jolly time and I loathe bloody Louisa bloody Wiltshire!" Well, of course, this was music to my ears, so I bit the bullet and admitted the whole pathetic story of Johnnie being cross with Rupes over some investment or other, us being NFI to the party of the year, and finally that we were coasting on her and the Prince's coattails to get to the party specifically to piss Louisa and Johnnie off. She simply roared with laughter, absolutely loved it. Apparently the Wiltshires treated her like complete dirt throughout the Diana years and beyond, never invited her to anything and cut her dead when they saw her, but once she got Charles up the aisle they were all over her like maggots on a dead sheep. We swapped some fabulous stories about them (she never knew that Johnnie likes to shag Louisa wearing his granny's tiara and waders, and I had no idea that Louisa was born Louise Stokes in a suburb of London called Morden or something equally hideous sounding - very interesting though) and swore we'd have a good evening, come what may.

So we then had drinks and the funny little American turns up - sans wife! Jolly rude I thought, and the sort of thing that the Prince is usually exceptionally chippy and cross about, but Charles greeted him like a best chum, and waved away the apology, quite extraordinary. It was frightfully annoying but I didn't hear the excuse the Yank came up with for her no show, as I was standing next to Goran who popped the champagne at exactly the same time (I don't know HOW many times I've tried to teach him to open champagne correctly - "as quiet as a virgin sighing" - but he just can't get it. I'm not sure whether it is because he didn't have many opportunities to open champagne in Timisoara, or because there were precious few virgins there sighing, but it is jolly annoying. I may have to look for another handyman cum butler).

Anyway we were slightly steaming when we left for the Wiltshires - even the Prince, which is most unusual for him - and even more so when we arrived thanks to the Billecart Saumon thoughtfully placed on ice in the Bentley. Johnnie and Louisa were, of course, waiting outside their door for the guests of honour to arrive and I'm ashamed to say we were a teensy bit late due to me accidentally moving all the clocks in the house forward by 20 minutes! Whoops! The poor things must have been jolly cold and rather bored, listening to their expensive party happening somewhere else. It was completely hilarious watching them greet the Prince incredibly obsequiously, the D of C fulsomely but with a hardly discernible hint of froideur, and Rupes and I barely civilly. Quite impressive really. And I don't think they knew whether Ralph Winterthur was a guest or the chauffeur or a bodyguard so they just ignored him totally. Camilla and I did slightly get the giggles at the whole nuanced performance and I swear I saw the hackles rise on the back of Louisa's wrinkled chicken neck.

So we went straight into dinner because we were so late, gosh I was glad of that trip to Paris when we walked into the (frankly completely overdecorated) marquee and everyone stood up and watched us go to the top table. My dress was a complete triumph, especially compared to Louisa Wiltshire's disastrous backless number, which had the result of exposing a huge amount of slightly puckered cowhide. She looked like an aged Soho madam. "Oh Louisa! What a lovely tent! I'd completely forgotten you didn't have a ballroom, but this tent is really almost BETTER, and so rustic looking, isn't it?" I trilled so everyone could hear. I thought Camilla was going to explode with the pressure of keeping a straight face. She is a game old bird.

Anyway thanks to Louisa I had some eighty year old deaf Deputy Lieutenant of Wiltshire on my left who actually fell asleep during the starter and didn't wake up at all thereafter (perhaps he was dead? I never thought to check) and Ralph Winterthur on my right. He managed to get through the whole meal on small talk - I tried and tried to winkle some information out of him like Who Are You? How Do You Know The Prince? Where Is Your Wife? What Do You Do All Day? Why Have You Come To My Rectory? but drew an absolute complete blank. So then I tried to flirt with him - I tried everything, and believe me, when Minty wants to flirt, Minty usually gets results. But it was like flirting with Michelangelo's David - nada, nothing, zip, back in return. Of course I could hardly open my eyes, let alone speak at this point, so much lovely wine had I consumed, but that has never stopped me from getting a positive response before. Finally, I gave up, and staggered off to find the loos, tripping over that godawful canvas stuff they put over the molehilly lawn in the vain hope you'll forget you are in a tent. Of course I ignored the revolting old portaloos they'd put up (god Louisa has NO style) and went into the house, and while I was having a riffle through Louisa's dressing room (hardly worth the effort - you could put the whole lot including the actual cupboards on ebay and still not raise enough for a Paddington bag) who should turn up but that dark horse of an American. I held up a particularly nasty chiffon blouse and said "Pitiful, isn't it?" and he came up to me, took the blouse, chucked it on the floor, stuck one hand on my arse and one behind my neck and gave me the most tremendous snog. Golly it was exciting! I was just getting into it, and wondering if Louisa's Empire Daybed could take our combined weight, when he stopped, removed his hands, and buggered off.

So how about that?

Oh bugger, Rupes has just come in from the pub and brought Giles, Ed and Harry with him, they'll be wanting a Welsh Rarebit. Must dash!
Minty xx