Golly but I have a head on me today, I can't tell you. I woke at about 10 this morning with the most thumping headache and had to call Rupes on his mobile to come and bring me a cup of tea. Poor man was feeling almost as rough as me, and stumbled around the house for a good 10 minutes with my breakfast tray until he found me - I'd forgotten to tell him I was in the Cedar Room and he simply couldn't find me! He ended up calling me back on the mobile and I had to talk him in. So amusing. Anyway after my tea and toast and a bit more dozing and three nurofen and a hot bath with that lovely bath oil that Suki sent me from California - it's almost run out actually, must get her to FedEx some over - I've managed to struggle into a Kimono and get upright. And now to the burning question - what AM I going to wear to the Winterthur's tonight?
Do you know I haven't really seen Ralph since the night of the Wiltshire's dance and our tremendously exciting encounter in Louisa's dressing room. Well I've seen him, obviously - given him a few waves from my car as I've driven through the village, and passed him coming out of the village shop as I was going in (I do feel it is important to support these things, so I make a point of going in and spending a tenner at least once a fortnight, although I end up buying all sorts of horrible little cakes and dusty tins of overpriced soup which I end up having to pass on to Mrs Coddington. I do think she appreciates my thoughtfulness, though). But I haven't really spoken him if you know what I mean. So it is going to be rather exciting going there this evening. I wonder who else he has invited? And of course meeting his mysterious wife - what's her name? Bugger, I can't remember. I expect she is bottom heavy and rather worthy and over-accessorised like these Americans always are.
Which brings me to the burning question - what to wear? I have a rather lovely Missoni wrapover jersey dress which really highlights my marvellous and newly perked up chest, I could wear that with my new Roger Vivier heels. It may be a little day, though. Or I have a rather demure new short Alberta Ferretti cocktail dress, midnight blue chiffon over a silk slip. Jolly sexy in a sort of veiled way. Or I could dress down a little and wear my little Pucci tunic and my Balenciaga flat gladiator sandals - they are splendid, sort of studded bondage for the feet. I had a super fake tan yesterday (Michelle in Marlborough has been on an advanced course and she is really tip top now - although I was a little less happy with her waxing skills, my landing strip is veering distinctly to the right which is SO frustrating), so I could carry the Pucci off with no problem. It barely covers the tops of my thighs though....
Golly it is tricky. Oh! I must dash, the cellar door is decidedly sticky and Rupes is banging away at it. Better let him out. Wish me luck for tonight, and of course I'll report back in full detail!