Paddy Renouf

Look what the Sun can make you do

I always thought you had to be an over optimistic octogenarian to play bowls. But its another thing that I've got wrong about Barnes.....the place I thought pedestrian and bourgeois - 'gin and jag land' (Tim Rice and Giles Brandreth for heaven's sake)....until you grow up a little and realise that riding in a Jag is actually rather nice and the crunch on the gravel of a well appointed house is rather delicious and a portent of the jolly nice gin and tonic you will be offered before sitting down to the best cut of beef.... anyway I digress



On Friday I arranged to meet the poet Roger McGough for a quick beer. Like everyone else I was determined to make the most of the heatwave and my friend Colin Ryder, who is another pro at rising to a good time was already on his way over. "Lets meet at the Bowling Green" said Roger. " Sure," I replied "I don't know that one....where is it exactly. I'm currently overlooking the river from the White Hart, but I'd love to discover a new watering hole"

"Oh its just behind the Sun Inn by the pond in the centre of the village...how long do you think you'll be?"



"See you in 40 mins or so" I replied. Colin arrived, suitably impressed and waxing lyrical on the impact of the flora and fauna as he got off the train at Barnes station which, at this time of early summer, is particularly 50s Britain, and after a jar we made our way towards the Sun Inn, discussing the prices of property and what one could afford and in what road.... just like everyone else in the vicinity having their evening stroll...



We walked past the back of the Sun and sure enough there was a sign and an arrow - 'To the Bowling Green' and a wooden gate. We entered a walled garden and in amongst the herbaceous borders we agreed that this was a little piece of heaven. We listened to the pigeons cooing and the bells of St Mary's. There before me was Roger in a white flat cap and the sort of elegant sun-shoes that you can only buy in Majorca.



"This is Terry, he is the Captain of the Barnes Bowling Club and, as a matter of fact, I am the President." Wow - 'another thing you didn't know about Roger McGough' I thought to myself.

"I had no idea this place existed, in fact I thought you meant a pub called the bowling green" I added before kissing his wife Hillary on the cheek. I hadn't seen her for 3 years since we met nearly every evening for dinner over the course of a long week end in Deia.



"How do you do and would you like a game" offered Terry graciously. 'Definately give it a try..' was the mutual response from Colin and myself.



Barnes Bowling Club is for private members only and I couldn't help feeling rather special playing with the President and Captain in an inpromtu game on a lovely summer's evening. It is an Elizabethan club and the only one in the world, Roger explained; this means that if you are the tournament winner you are actually the world champion...there are no other clubs to play against. This was going to be a guinea a minute..... 'What a Friday night...' I thought to myself.



"You're gonna have to coach me Roger" I said feeling like a batsman heading to the crease. Terry helped me select a pair of bowls, advising on shape, bias (the lopp-sided weight) and feel.



The green is square and you play from corner to corner, taking care not to snooker or cannon the other team who are playing across you from the other two corners. Like Sunday evenings and going back to school, there is something about playing a new sport in front of an audience that intimidates and you get it in your gut. Colin, who is one of nature's sportsmen, took to it with the grace of an athelete and released the ball with the delicate balance of pace and line like a pro. I had a couple of beginner's luck moments and the rest consisted of attempts that were followed with things like "gosh I've never seen that before...or try using your other arm."



In no time the game was over and I felt to shy to ask if we could do another. "I always thought this was a game for old gits....or you needed a colostomy bag or a healthy serving of piles to find it interesting...." There was no reaction. "Ok then, at least a pension or bus pass."



"Actually most of our members are surprisingly young.... in fact we had to change the rules because some of the younger members turned up in the early hours and started to party...Which was fine by me" added the Captain," but they didn't think to keep the flood lights switched off and what with the booze etc one thing lead to another and those houses overlooking the green" he pointed " were all woken up and then treated to a full-on spectacle with a big stadium band feel to it......I didn't mind, but we had to put a stop to that sort of thing. But its quite hard, because if you become a member you simply get a key..." he added with an inviting look.



"Conficious said - 'he who makes love to wife in field has piece on earth'" I added.

Roger and his wife sauntered off to dinner at home...exactly as you'd imagine a contented couple would do after a session at the bowls club.

If Barnes made me feel like I was colonial England in 50's Britain going to my Doctor in Goldbourne Road to get a prescription on a radiantly brilliant Monday morning made me feel like Wilfred Thesiger going amidst the marsh Arabs. Exiting the brilliant sunshine into the cool darkness of the waiting room was like coming upon a magnificent scene in a Bedouin tent...except everyone was ill, not healthy. But the faces and fabrics are fabulous. A riot of Afghan, Syrian, Somalian and African robes. Sure there are gaping problems, but compared to say Paris or New York (and certainly Washington) London has the most racially integrated population in the world. It is just yet another characteristic that makes London magnificent.

So what do Hendrix and Handel have in common

Just imagine; you're Handel's biggest fan, know every note of The Messiah and decide to visit the museum in the house in which he lived. But instead of mingling with the sedate bunch of fellow classical music buffs, you're crowded out by musos in black felt hats and velvet jackets, playing air guitar.

Confused? Well, later in August the Handel Museum will host an exhibition to mark the 40th anniversary of the death of Jimmy Hendrix. So be warned.

Hendrix and Handel lived at 23 and 25 Brook Street in Mayfair, London, respectively. No 25 was Handel's home for nearly 40 years and between 1968 and 1970, Hendrix lived at No 23 with his girlfriend Kathy Etchingham, describing it as his 'first real home'. He knew of the Handel connection and reportedly incorporated some of Handel's riffs into his own works.

In 2001, the building was turned into the Handel House Museum and all the Hendrix memorabilia was removed, but Jimi's fans still arrive to see the attic room where he lived.

Now the house is to be turned over to the Hendrix in Britain exhibition, with early recordings, film clips and scribbled lyrics. No doubt it will only spark extra interest in the house from both sets of fans. In many respects, its the perfect marketing tool - something for everyone....

Gwyneth Rees and published in the Daily Mail

Is Violence Ever Justified - an interesting lecture

IS VIOLENCE EVER JUSTIFIED - For those of you planning to be in London on Wednesday 12th May 2010, there is, at 12.00noon, ST John's, Smith Square, London SW1P 3HA, a very interesting lecture

Archbishop Desmond Tutu will deliever the Forgiveness Project Inaugural Annual Lecture and be joined for a panel discussion by Pat Magee, convicted of planting the 1984 Brighton bomb, Jo Beryy, daughter of Sir Anthony Berry MP who was killed in the bombing, and Mary Kayitesi Blewitt who lost more than fifty members of her family in the Rwandan genocide.


Chaired by BBC Edward Stourton
Sponsored by Anglo American
Tickets £35, £25. £10 by phone 0207 222 1061
http://www.siss.org.uk/

sex blogger party Zoe Margolis

Last night I went with Liz Hoggard to a party thrown by Zoe Margolis at the Groucho Club. Zoe has written her second book based on her sexual adventures as a kind of female swordsman. She made her name having been exposed by the Sunday Times as the real life character behind her enormously successful sex blog.

We were certainly in the right part of town. I was wondering if I had the heart to take my heavily packed Durex inspired goodie bag away from the area that it would be most needed or appreciated...it felt like a crime. It would be a bit like nicking the swabs and disposable thermometers from the A&E department of a hospital. I was itching to explore the contents on the way home but didn't have the courage - despite the quantities of wine consumed - to examine the packages on the bus, although I must have looked like a mugger going through a handbag on the final walk from the bus stop in leafy genteel Barnes at 1.00am

Devon, Northumberland, dancing and painting. Van Gough to Roger McGough.

Its been an absurdly long time since I have had the opportunity to bring you up to date. I am going to give you a brief insight to what has been happening and then I can assure you that the diary will be back on the regular slot.


Christmas was spent in Devon and the New Year in Northumberland....both delightfully and at moments alarmingly snowed it. Adrian Renouf and his family were the most thoughtful and fun hosts......and then after crossing most of the Kingdom by train.....Ivan Invanovich would have been challenged by the rail journey to and from Exeter and then again to Newcastle.

Jamie Howell proved again to be the consummate host. We dined in some splendour at his latest acquisition - The Fisherman's Lodge - in the heart of Newcastle. Despite my acid reflux we tested the menu to the full. It was a lovely surprise to eat such delicious food.

Newcastle on New years Eve was like another planet. I now know what binge drinking is. The streets were littered with girls dressed for the beach in Magalouf or Veleyaki. It was like a fancy dress Toga party but in a snow storm. The residents are fun and full of good will and staggered through the snow and slush, some of them stopping to kip in the snow drifts. The Baltic gallery stood magnificent in the midst of all this..

A last minute invite to shoot with Rubin Straker on New Year's Day was a fabulous head clearer after a night painting the tiles red in the City and then a 2hr drive home across the moors with nothing but owls, badgers and foxes for company as we drove through the white-out. Land Rovers are fabulous just when they need to be.

But even a shot like Straker was pushed to hit anything with the white-out visibility that meant you couldn't really see beyond the end of the 28" barrels. But it was glorious to be out in the snow with the raspberry ripple skys and fabulous sunsets and also the guest of such generous and fun friends.

It was glorious to experience the snow in depths of the country and it proved a splendid break

Despite the hoardes and standing in the rain, the Van Gough Exhibition at the Royal Academy is an absolute must. Mary Killen swept us off on a rainy Tuesday morning and we were thrilled by the drawings and then the fabulous vibrant colour of the oils.



We cheekily went across the road to chance our luck at 1pm and Jeremy King, who had booked me to look after his friend for the day in the autumn, very kindly found us a table at the Wolseley and we enjoyed a very agreeable lunch of Toulose Sausages with puy lentils and I had the boiled ham with white sauce. The wine was excellent. Mary and I fretted over tax deadlines along with 75% of the other diners...

The portrait is coming along beautifully and I am really enjoying the challenge. The subject has only managed to make one sitting so far because of his involvement in the Chilcott enquiry. I am loving using my father's studio in his house in Barnes and thrilled to be spending so much time with him. He is teaching me a lot and guiding me through the portrait. I am also really enjoying Barnes....the village like feeling and the cosy pubs. The Brown Dog gastro pub is managed and staffed by some of the nicest people in the business. The food and atmosphere are wonderful - with proper coal fires, lots of dogs and plenty of newspapers.

I've also been able to catch up with some friends form the past. Roger McGough lives round the corner and we had a couple of beers in the Sun Inn just by the pond. This is a vibrant little boozer in the heart of the community. Doreen Londonderry (Doreen Wells) met us for coffee after the farmers market...which is as good as you'll find anywhere. Shirley Wadham and Lucy Kellie Smith laid on the most splendid dinner for us all.

I've also had the chance to catch-up with Hannah Sutter Brimelow. Hannah has just published her very well received book 'Big Fat Lies' or how the government is making us fat and it is being serilaised in the Mail. We discussed the issues in detail over dinner at the Dean Street House hotel with the wonderful Liz Hoggard.

The artist Peter Brown stands on the currently closed bridge at Hammersmith and paints the view looking out west along the Thames towards Chiswick Mall. I stopped to talk to him and cheekily get a few tips about capturing the light. It was a stunning day - more like late spring. After lunch at Morton's (vastly improved) with Julia Marozzi of Bentley Motors I then went on to meet Nicky Philipps who has just finished her original and stunning portrait of Princes' William and Harry, as commissioned by the National Portrait Gallery. It was wonderful to get steal and force out some tips from her too.........

Stowe the gab

On Wednesday I finally fulfilled my promise to go and watch William Prideaux play rugger. He is in the the Colts 'A' team for Stowe.

Although 60 miles away, it is motorway practically door to door so it is a swift and effortless journey. But the weather was appalling and it looked like dusk when we arrived at 2pm.

Both teams put up a terrific battle and Stowe went on to win with a 17 to 5 lead. William Prideaux played very well and suffered badly for his courage when he made a cracking flying tackle . I had been bellowing from the touch-line, like a ranting lunatic, that no one was tackling properly ....and despite a throat so sore that it had taken me twice to hospital that very week...I carried on. The next thing I know is that William has a real case of possible concussion and immediately after the game is taken to sick bay. Here nurse checks his vital signs and he is kept in over night. Coach comes in to say that he was just singing William's praise in the after game de-brief and it was only then that they realised that William wasn't in the changing room; coach was also pleased to say that William had been nominated as 'man of the match' - which is fantastic but I do wish that perhaps I hadn't bellowed so much. Cameron, William's friend who had been to stay with us in Norfolk during the summer holidays, got it on this occasion.

In sick bay a funny thing happened. Entirely through feature and face recognition, I met the son of friends of mine. Archie Walters is the son of Alex Walters who I have known since 1975 when we met at school...I think we went on an art trip to Florence in 1977 with my Pa. Archie's mother Caroline I have known since 1982 and had become close to her brothers Edward Bulmer (from UEA which from today has been put on the world map because of leaked emails to do with global warming) Mark and Hugo. I often stayed and had frequently shot at their lovely country house at Puddleston. I had also hooked up with Edward and Caroline in Courcheval when they were based in Meribel circa 1986. Finally, I had also known Archie's stepfather - James Dean- since 1982 when I stepped out with his stepsister Sarah Allen and had frequently stayed at their house East Mere in Lincolnshire as well as the house in Perthshire called Percy. I think it freaked Archie out a touch to have this chap in sick bay talking about all those nearest to him over a thirty year period. All he was doing was waiting patiently to be discharged by nurse having survived a bout of the old swine-flu. Still, he has each of his parent's natural charm. Talk about a chip off the block.

Its amazing to think the trouble you can cause by going to watch a rugger match...

London Blind and Serbian Christmas


Following my wonderful adventures in Paris with a party of blind travellers, I was very pleased to get a call from Amar Latif of Traveleyes asking if I could look after a visibly impaired traveler called Courtney who was coming into London from Tunisia. Courtney lives in San Francisco and had a day to kill in town.

We had a ball. Having picked Courtney up at Leytonstone tube station at 10.00am, we made our way tback along the Central line and surfaced at St Pauls. We wondered around and made our way upo Fleet Street, stopping at the Olde Cheshire Cheese (where both Twain and Dickens a long time before him at quenched their thirst) and the Church of St Bride....this boasts the first spire that Christopher Wren designed and is also the inspiration of all three tier wedding cakes that you see the world over. We examied the old Daily Express building and had our elevenses in El Vinos.....not the most obvious choice for that time of day, but it does open at 8.30am so we weren't the first. Courtney was able to smell the atmosphere....sour wine and cleaning fluid, this is the last venue of the serious boozer -the spirit of Keith Waterhouse and Bill Deedes live on in this dive.

We progressed on up to the courts of justice via, momentarily, the chapel of the Knights Templar (so resolutely shut as always - it seems proudly so). We went into the massive and spectacular courts of justice - a kind of Harry Potter version of 'Crown Court'. We quietly allowed ourselves into court number 5 where 3 pub managers were justifying their role in the rent arears and explaining how, after a downturn in business, the pub happened to catch alight.

After that we crossed the road to Somerset House to great the feeling of the great 18Century architecture and on hearing the scrapes of the Ice Skaters, Courtney suggested we give it a go. As I'd discovered in Paris in October, some blind people have an extraordinary courage. As luck would have it, there was a free slot starting in less than 10minutes. It was as if they were waiting for us. Bemused I watched as Courtney completed the exercise of booting up before I had finished.

Now call me old fashioned, but it was amazing to be lead around the rink by a beautiful, 27 year old woman who has, incidently, been blind since birth. It was exhilerating, liberating, not quite reckless and bloody good fun. Especially when Courtney decided, for fun, to test out the sensation of skating with her stick in front. In very little time we got the rink to ourselves.

Gordon's wine bar in Charing Cross was an excellent place for lunch. In San Francisco, Courtney works in a restaurant that serves people in complete darkness. 'The idea is that your senses are heightened and you taste all the flavours more intensely....what really happens is that people take longer to order and concentrate a little harder whilst they are eating'. This wine bar is about as dark as it gets without you offering 50p for the meter. The cavarneous cellar was a musty novelty and Courtney could not only sense the the womb-like spirit caused by the extremely low ceilings, but by listening and feeling was able to describe the types of people who where eating in there too. The food was delicious and the experience was fun as the pitch darkness made the meal more democratic...we shared perceptions and experiences which had started with us on the ice rink.

The Lions of Traflagar Square were fantastic to touch as I explained the story of Nelson and his part in our history. We walked down along Whitehall and Courtney greeted the mounted guard with confidence and purpose. She caressed the snout of the charger and felt the bridles and stirrupts. The mounted guard were utterly complient and not remotely phased by the sight of a blind person fondling and exploring their horses. I loved her for her bravery.

We wondered through Soho to provide a contrast in sounds via Cork Street and Regents Street. From there we went to tea in the House of St Barnabus on the corner of Greek Street and Soho Square. There we we met by David and Linda, Courtney's hosts for her stay in town. We went to the Flag and Lamb in Convent Garden - opposite the always attractive Garrick Club - to sample some ale and then settled for an Indian at the Palms Of Goa in Meard St, Soho.

Showing a blind person around town is every bit as interesting and revealing as any one else.


If you have a spare couple of hours, do visit the Winter Wonderland in the heart of Hyde Park. There are some fantastic rides and also ice-skating. But the bars are brillaint fun...try and go after dark... the lights are brilliant and the atomosphere vibrant. I had the pleasure of looking after two adorable children from Serbia with their nanny. You might blow your entire Christmas budget in an hour, but you can just go and enjoy the atomosphere and the mulled wine.

Whitefriars Glass, Thames yacht party and the Wallace Collection





























































On Monday 9th November Sally Prideaux and I drove down to north Devon to do an introduction to glass blowing with the gaffer and glass blower Simon Moore. Simon has his own design company, furnace and also lectures on glass and ceramics at the Royal College of Art in Kensington.










Emma Hope had kindly lent us her house which is nestled in its own Cove on the North Devon coast and so conveniently close to Simon Moore's furnace. It was to prove to be a remarkable experience. Emma's beautiful house and spectacular location was home for a while to the legend of the 70s, Deep Purple. It was a lovely place to stay.










Simon Moore worked thoroughly and hard over the two days to valiently pup our designs into actual samples. He made the whole thing look fantastically simple as he is such a splendid artist and master blower. He had been trained in the late 70s and early 80s by 'Two dinners Wilkinson' who was one of the last great glass blowers who had been all his life at Whitefriars until it closed in 1980.










It was simply wonderful to walk away at the end of the second day with our first working samples from which we will make drawings from which full production may be made. It is a very exciting time for Whitefriars..
Immediately I got back to London it was the turn of two Lady physicians from British Columbia. We visited the Wallace Collection to glance at the Hirst exhibition... hype over substance...(heard that before?) as he clearly cannot paint. These look like they might have been created on board his aircraft after a session although I understand that he doesn't drink anymore.
We also visited Joel's new shop Coco Maya on Connaught Street which is even more fabulous and decadent than before.
Borough Market is a feast in very sense and we were seduced into buying a picnic there and then. Brindisa, founded by my friend Monica Lavery some 18 years ago, supplied the most exsquisite Black Pig ham and that with peppers, bread, olives and a superior bottle of Rioja made for a splendid lunch in the car whilst our diver Jools did a wonderful route past the Tate Modern, The Eye, Parliament and then on to Windsor.
I left them that evening to go into Warhorse togther. I did meet with them for champagne, smoked Salmon and Scones the next day at the fifth floor of Harvey Nichols before they went on to Billy Elliot.
I made my way on to M.Y. Debra, a rather romantic and beautiful private yacht moored on Cadagon Pier at Chelsea. Ben Gordon acquired it this year and it is a proud, beautiful vessel that is a great reminder of the good life in the '50s. You have expected to see Tony Curtis or Frank Sinatra on board. The food was delicious, prepared by Debra (the wife, not the vessel) and I had the pleasure of meeting Georgia Gordon who works for Luxor Magazine (we will work together) and her brother Beau, who is a personal assistant to Kevin Spacey. Beau introduced me to the lovely Libby who runs the friends of the Old Vic and I am sure our paths will cross again.
London - from its restaurants, buildings, ice rinks to its private yachts on the Thames - is moving towards Christmas with great cheer and some optimisim. Its going to be fun.









Fortnum's hampers, BT phone box and a chopper over the Cotswolds


There is something wonderfully reassuring about Fortnum and Mason during the build-up to Christmas. There really is a feeling of Victorian Xmas. The packaging and glamour give a sense of tradition and celebration that is not found elsewhere. I went in with some visitors from New York and within 8 minutes we had ordered 6 or 7 different hampers and arranged for them to be shipped to various USA addresses. All you need is the imagination, credit card, zip code and the attention of the very attractive sales girl behind the reproduction writing table on the first floor.


Then you nip across the road to the Anish Kapoor exhibition at the Royal Academy - which finishes on 11th December to see his monumental work called Svayambh, which comes from Sanskrit , in which works of sculpture actively participate in their own creation. The sculpture moves slowly - squeezing through each doorframe of each gallery. Not unlike some of the Mall Mums and other Christmas shoppers in the nearby arcades.


A helicopter ride from Battersea heliport out to Blenheim Palace and then on to Moreton in the Marsh and Stowe on the wold is wonderfully simple to organise and a fun way to spend a saturday morning on a brilliantly sunny late autumn day. Back then to lunch at Cecconi's followed by a visit to the Portobello market and the purchase of a wonderful 1907 genuine cuckoo clock. We also arranged the shipment of a red telephone box and the Victorian bar from a disused pub to the Hamptons.


I have a wonderful job and was thrilled with my new driver Richard, who keeps the Bentley Arnage in perfect order. Ian - the head concierge at the Sanderson Hotel was fun and very helpful too.

Fireworks and the President of Equatorial Guinea





The fireworks at the party in Ladbroke Square were reputedly among the best in London last night.
Actually, the square has gained a reputation for the anual event as the meticulous planning is the envy of all the most up-tight garden square committees in town. To be part of a garden square committee is the epitome of arrival over substance - the prize of the American banker's spouse or the hedge funder's wife. And this square takes the biscuit.
Claudia Schiffer looked magnificant and glowed like a radio active Barbie doll in the brilliant light from the fire. ...such is her stature that its impossible for her to disappear into the obscurity of the crowd. Once, the great Sir Mark Thatcher, who used to hide in a borrowed pile in Landsdown Road would have been tolerated, if not welcome at one of these. I wondered, as I bit into my baked potato, where he might be just now and how he feels about the prospect of Simon Mann sodomising him in public and skinning him alive, as the President of Equatorial Guinea had intended to do to Mann before he decided to let him go free all of a sudden.
Quite apart from the balistics......the tents and the commotion, the organisational skills and facilities in Ladbroke Squarewould have made our boys in the Helmund Provence proud. we even had one of those prized helicopters to keep an eye on things.
The nearby mansions let off a volley of responses - like warships in the solent during a night time viewing of the fleet. We specualted as to which of the spectacular neighbouring silos were actually private parties and which were communial. This is important in this 'Hamptons of Kensington' where enough fireworks are discharged at some private parties to put a kid from South of The River through Eton.
Across the valley towards Notting Dale Rachel Johnson and Mary Killen enjoyed their show in Elgin Crescent before speeding off to Nicky Haslam's book launch.
As I Walked to the launch of the Venini collection at the Vessel gallery on Kensington Park Road, not five minutes after the fireworks, Jeeps and Range Rovers sped through the gunpowder smoke like UN rescue vehicles in the immediate aftermath of an air strike, as determind muns ferried kiddies that looked like they'd hardly recovered the trick or treating from the week before.
A N wilson was wrong. They've just raised the bar in this part of town and any event is enjoyed to the max.
Even the Electric club was empty....the puzzled lonely non-members looked into their cocktails like they'd been robbed.

Remember remember the 5th of November



We are really enjoying what is turning into a glorious autumn this year. London is looking fabulous and I have had the opportunity to do some painting without freezing to death.

Now, I'm very much looking forward to the firework party in Ladbroke Square, probably the best in London, which is happening tonight. I'll be popping to and fro across the road to the exhibition opening at Vessel in Kensington Park Road where Angel are hosting a party and launching a new collection of glass in his gallery.


It should be interesting to see whether its true that fatuous and wholly commercial Halloween celebrations have become more more popular than Guy Fawkes night - as was recently mourned by A N Wilson.


Mind you, its quite astonishing that we have what is an anti Papal celebration for an event that did not even happen...the near anillation, using gunpowder, of a landmark building in the very heart of the capital.


Furthermore, it wasn't the buildings that make up the houses of Parliament as we now know and love. The building that Fawkes tried to blow up doesn't exist because it was burnt down for real in the 1834! A clerk was ordered to burn the faggots which for decades had been stored underneath Parliament- the faggots that were records that you had paid your taxes. The trouble was that he was a typical civil servant and pretty inept. He burnt the entire place down.

That monumental scene was witnessed by a spellbound Turner, some say Rossetti (although he only would have been 6), Pugin (who funnily enough became a Catholic the following year as he started work on the new building with the architect Charles Barry) and even Dickens (who like Pugin was only 22). They were all standing with the masses on boats in the Thames so tightly packed together witnessing the spectacle that it is said that you could walk across from the north to south bank.


But no, we don't celebrate that real and spectacular destruction of the seat of Parliament - though we must thank Turner who did do at least 4 pictures.

And if we think that the failed attempt of the destruction of an iconic building in the heart of our capital is worthy of an anual 'light spectacular', in which we blow a considerable portion of our savings , what perhaps should our bretheren across the pond be doing in to mark 9/11?

That must surely be made a greater and more meaningful remembrance and be in our psyche for evermore. Lets celebrate our defiance that we will not be defeated by terrorism and celebrate too those that were taken in an event so violent that is still hard to fathom after all this time. That, surely, is worthy of us all getting outside and looking and marvelling at the heavens for a few hours one evening each year.

Simon Mann and frozen seabass

I don't think I'd really want to be Sir Mark Thatcher at the moment, or ever really. Nor Jeffery Archer or Ely Calil. I think that we are to witness the End Game fairly shortly on that one.

And don't ever try to compare frozen and fresh foods -especially fish and meat. As Ben, the Head Chief at the Electric explained to me when I asked if there was any real difference: 'Ok, its basic science. What happens in a swimming pool when it freezes.....the ice expands and the side of the pool cracks. It is the same as the cell structure in flesh. The cells fill out when they become frozen and break their walls. An irreversable damage is done to the structure of the flesh which has changed. It therefore cooks differently. Simple.'

So I took the seabass out of the freezer today and I couldn't stop thinking about this rather unappetising physical transformation and convinced myself that it was not as nice. The flavour was good but I couldn't help thinking that the texture was ruined.

So don't kid yourself that frozen is as good as fresh. I used to think it was a snob thing. Well i suppose it is if you ignore this information.

I'd still rather be a frozen sea bass than Sir Mark Thatcher, Ely Calil, or Jeffery Archer right now, and maybe for quite some time to come

Eton Whitefriars guiding the Blind round Paris and dinner with death


The past two weeks have been every more diverse and jam-packed.... here is a summary:


Whitefriars Glass


The Vessel Gallery on Kensington Park Road - the fabulous leading glass and ceramic London experts in London, co hosted a lavish party and show in a mansion in Belgrave Square. Aswell as works by Venini (Murano, Italy) there were some new designs by Tom Dixon too - there were an amazing amount of young designers in the 18-30 yr old bracket. Vessel has been wonderfully helpful with our plans for Whitefriars but most of all I'd like to live at 35 Bellgrave Square. Sally and I also had the chance to meet with Tom Dixon at his cafe in his complex at Portobello Dock. We later met with Pippa Small in her Colville Mews' showroom amid her fabulous jewelry designs. Both meetings where very stimulating.


Sally Prideaux, Joe Coles and I met at the Royal College of Art in Kensington. The reason being to introduce Joe to the highly talented Glass Blower and Tutor, Simon Moore. It was lovely to be having breakfast in a University environment...discussing our plans on a beatiful autumn morning. We went for a lovely walk through Kensington Gardens and stopped for coffee at the stunning Orangery at Kensington Palace. It was flooded with sunlight. I am so looking forward to doing a practical course in glass blowing at Simon's furnace in mid November.

Footer at Eton
I also had the opportunity to spend the day at Eton College. Cosmo Studholme, the older brother of my god daughter Nancy, was playing in a football match. I had an image of Eton- privilidge and prestige etc. At the risk of sounding daft.....It is a fabulous institution with stunning facilities and history. It is wonderful and in many ways magnificant....I wouldn't mind going there myself.



Sister Mary Birthday Sunday 18th


My father hosted a lunch party at his house in Barnes to celebrate my sister Mary's birthday. Although Joseph did the cooking and Gregory did the organising, Dadda was, at 84, the host. It was fun to catch up with one of my school masters, Julian Dare, who I havent seen for 32 years...and had anecdotes relating to my time at School. Also there was the old Worth Boy Hugh Betts - who runs Maggs Bros, the antiquarian book dealers in Berkeley Square, with his wife Asya Chorley. It was great fun.

In the evening I went to Thyra October Ellicots birthday celebration at the Primrose Pub by the Harrow Road.


Moving House


My land lady arrived from the country to say that she was selling flat and I had a months notice. Its a shame since I have loved living here and was just getting used to it.


Captain Ben Babington Browne RIP


Two strange things came out of this. In need of an office, a studio to paint and somewhere to live I entered the Gumtree website.


As a result of surfing the web I was taken to an obituary of a brave soldier called Captain Ben Babington Browne. Ben had been kiiled in Afganistan in July this year. He was 27 years old. I last saw Ben when I went skiing with him and his family in 1993 - he would have been 11. His father, Nigel had been great friend and colleague back in the 80s when we all worked in the Cellular radio business. We even went on Concord. Ben was 6 or 7 when I first met him and even then one was struck by his sensitivity and intelligence...he was mischievous and fun even then. I lost contact with the family and heard only a few years ago that Nigel, who had owned a snooker club in Maidstone had passed away. Now his wife Nina and is other son, Daniel, are left. Look at Ben's tributes to see what a truly outstanding man as well as an officer. The family are in my thoughts and prayers.


Guiding the Blind Round Paris 23rd to 28th October


The other remarkable thing to happen by going onto Gumtree is that I signed up to accompany 9 sighted and 9 blind people around Paris. It seemed such an interesting take on my job that I could not resist it. It was the most up-lifting and joyful experience. I learnt more from the visibly impaired about Paris than they did from me. We went to galleries, churches, the home of Louis Braille, restaurants and clubs. We laughted till we wept and painted the town red. One was up-ended on the exit from the metro in the turnstyle like a wheelie bin, one had a panic attack and another an asthma attack. But we each loved it fully and sang and drank and told stories. There will be an article that I've written for a national paper about the adventure and which I'll post to this site shortly. I painted and they brought to life the 'acoustic landscape'

DESMOND MACCARTHY THE FARMER WANTS A WIFE


We were meant to be at Wellington Square to watch the Farmer needs a wife starring Desmond MacCarthy and filmed at Wiveton. Unfortunately the program was moved to 11pm and to a different channel. Desmoind himself had pulled some strings so had got a copy on DVD to show the 30 odd friends he'd invited to dinner that night at Wiveton in Norfolk.

Thursday 29th

Instead I drinks with Mary Killen and Candida Lycett Green with Amabel Lindsay...later joined by Rupert Lycett Green who arrived by bycycle from the Calvary Club in Piccadilly at the Electric on the Portobello Road. I did have dinner with Mike Falconer and his wife Lizzie with Matthew Bell at Wellington Square

Friday 30th V&A 'In the Dead of Night'

Michael Howells staged a 'dine with death tableau vivant' at the V&A which was visually stunning. His costume design was magnificant. It was part of the dead of night at Victoria and Albert. The crowds were gormless and everything else seemed meaningless and disorganised.... I hadn't seen him since we had all had a riotuos evening at Wiveton Hall with Desmond MacCarthy and Selina Fellowes in the Spring.



























Windsor Castle, Charity art teaching at the House of St Barnabas


















After watching the changing of the guard at Whitehall Palace - it is slightly more dramatic and spectacular than the foot soldiers half an hour later at Buckingham Palace - we walked up to Trafalgar Square via Whitehall. I showed the exact spot that Charles 1st was executed (immediately outside the first window of the Banqueting House) and the black smudge on the face of the clock of the tower at Whitehall that shows the moment the King was executed (which most people assume is pigeon poo).










We walked into the square to witness one of the last of 2400 performers of the previous 100 days that had been human installation artists changing every hour. My guests were frankly too puzzled to really get it but they enjoyed the idea.








We proceeded to the chocolate haven that is Coco Maya on Connaught Street. Disaster...it was closed because they were between premises and the new premises were not ready. Thank fully Fortnums, those profoundly different, provided a suitably impressive alternative.




Lunch at the Petersham Cafe was, as always, an astounding success and I was delighted that they got me a table at an hour's notice. My principal guest was so happy with everything so far that whilst his wife and daughter were admiring the plants, asked me to oraganise an European adventure next year for 12 people to celebrate his and his wife's 50th wedding anniversary.

We arrived at Windsor Castle in fabulous autumn light and practically had the place to ourselves. I adore the Rubens in the Kings Drawing Room and the chandeliers in the Queens Ball Room.
After dropping my guests back at Chesham Street, firm friends by now, Yousseff dropped me back in Mayfair to see my friend Stefan Lindblom - formerly of Ricard James and now running the Ralph Lauren franchise in Dubai - who is back in London for a short visit.
Friday 9th October
It was interesting to go to Imperial Wharf in Fulham, just adjacent to Chelsea Harbour. Its one of those developments that makes you wonder who lives there. Most of them are investments for people swept up for better or worse in the 'buy to let' mortgage market. Its a huge development that manages to make homes look like a vast pile of white goods. Yet I was going to see my family...my nephew Sam Renouf who is moving to the far East, hosted a family dinner party. I shared a cab back with my brother Gerard....unfortunately he had to take the cab back to collect some documents then again the next day as he'd left his wig (I might eplain that he is a barrister.....).
Saturday 10th October
The Art Fair at Chelsea Hospital is part of the simply magnificant display of art and design available in London from Battersea Park through Berkley Square and onto Regents Park.
It is impressive that there are always 1000 Ivan Hitchens for sale at any one time...and that is just in London.
Sunday 11th October
Joined my friend Craig Delamare at the Bumpkin Restaurant in Nottinghill Gate for lunch. Craig has recently become the AGM and is adding very much to the character of the place....which is already cosy and fun and wonderful to waste away an afternoon with the papers.
Monday 12th
Sally convened a meeting for Whitefriars Glass. The whole re launch is becoming increasingly exciting.
Tuesday 13th
I applied to be the resident artist for one or two select cruise line companies...it should be interesting to see what the experience would be like...I have always been so very curious. The writer Richard Mason went on a cruise when I was in Venice in January but he literally jumped ship after 4 days because he found it hideous as well as prison like. He had thought he was going to be dressing for dinner but I think he got in with the wrong company and ended up on an extended booze run.
At 6pm I arrived at the pop-up club at the House of Saint Barnabas. I had offered to teach art to help raise money for charity. Nathaniel had organised it beautifully and as always it was fun to help and witness people dis inhibiting themselves and coming up with some thing that they actually surprised themselves with....
We were joined again by my gorilla breeding, African art dealer, the Maronite Catholic from the Lebanon, Paulie Raad. Paulie gave some inspiring words to all about releasing the creative from within before he and I headed off to Adam Jacot's book launch at Daunt Books in Marylebone High Street. There we met up with Desmond MacCarthy, Hugh St Clair and Andrew Snodgrass.
I went to MacDonalds on the way home.
Wednesday 14th October
My landlady arrived early from the country to announce that she has decided to put the flat on the market and therefore give me one months notice. whilst totally within her rights this was a shock for me as I have only been there less than 2 months and had started to feel at home. All moves are unsettling.
Mary Killen texted me to say that she couldn't access my website, which she was trying to show some one. Craig Brown and his wife Frances Welch arrived to go to the Tatler party whilst I went off to the launch of the newly jazzed up Elgin Pub on Ladbroke Grove. It was a lavish and generous do with oysters and cocktails...it was fun to see that staff who had been bussed up from the Pheonix in Chelsea (my old local) as it is a sister establishment.... On the way back I got a txt from Olinda Adeane who at that very moment was on the vaporetto in Venice en route to her apartment in the Guidecca and how she had been reading Tatler on the plane and how she though Nicky Haslam was a fantasist about his bedroom antics with David Hicks in rubber suits, Tony Snowdon AND Roddy Lewellyn and thinking he was in danger of doing a Capote. Olinda said that she felt like Madame de Genlis - living in exile and reading about our club openings in Tatler.....along with another invitation to stay in the spring
I got into bed and finished Eleanor Barry's book on Robert Maxwell. It is extremely funny and I now want to read her book called 'The Story of Paddy'.











Blenheim, new trainers, Judge Shanks and When Boris Met Dave

Sunday 4th October


Sunday lunch really does go well as well as all day at the Electric on Portobello Road....infact I stayed for supper too. I had agreed to meet the mother of the head chef (Ben) who was over from Australia to see her son. A remarkable lady who has just finished her battle with breast cancer whilst simultaneously losing her job and house. Her courage and fortitude was wonderful.





My friend Murray Shanks, now a judge come and joined us and it was great to catch up with him and compare the week ahead.





Monday 5th October


I met the chefs mother for coffee at 10.00am. It was pouring with rain and dismal. I had promised her that I would give her a tour of the town, but not in the Bentley as it was in the garage - we where going to do it my all methods and impetiously on public transport.



The Haunch of Venison was as far as we had got to before my very elegant but rather too fine italian loafers disintergrated. I had to act as I felt like I was on the foredeck of a ship in a storm. Not wanting to spend a fortune I opted for some trainers on nearby Carnaby Street. The idea of shopping there suddenly appealed to me....being such cliche from the 60s and 70s. The very sweet and helpful sales girl from Somalia asked what my 'normal trainer size was'? I haven't got a clue I explained...I have never bought trainers. She looked at me with amazement as well as scepticism. 'What, you've never bought trainers...like ever in your life'?

'No, I can honestley say I haven't...' Whereuon she whipped out her new mobile and took a picture of me to show her mates a photo of ...'the bloke that came in today that has never bought trainers in his life yet'. She was charming and helpful and also sold me some socks designed to wear with trainers...these become invisible once the trainer was on. Oh yes, the trainers were bright red and i flounced into Carnaby Street looking like Dorothy in the Wizard of OZ before that huge wooden hat that has been swept up in the tornado comes back and lands on her.



The National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery for tea were perfect. Desmond MacCarthy called to say that two of my 5 paintings on exhibition in his gallery had been sold.



Tuesday 6th October

My Driver Youseff arrived at Kensington Park Gardens exactly on time. We collected our clients and drove out to Blenheim Palace. The weather was foul but the atmosphere and the banter was fun. After a very good fun lunch at the Bear in Woodstock we went on a drive to Morton in the Marsh, Stow on the Wold and Burford. It is an aspect of England that is a pleasure to show....we got back to town with my new friends wanting another dose on Thursday.

Wednesday 7th October

Mary Killen was on very good form when she called me from her new office at The Lady Magazine. We arranged to meet for dinner at the Electric in an hour. It was lovely to catch up with her and share a bottle of wine. We left in time to go to Rachel Johnson's, via the off licence, and sit with her in her Nottinghill home and watch Toby Young's When Boris met Dave. It was fun to be there with Mary and Rachel. Rachel came across very well and it was fun to sit beside her as well as opposite at the same time. It is amazing to think that she was told that she was being interviewed about Oxford days and not explained the context of the program which sounds unbelieveably naughty . The program was laughable and shallow but vaguely amusing and Rachel herself was good.

Russians, Indagare Magazine and Trout with Morrocan beans

One of the more enjoyable aspects of my job is the introduction of people to London and also the introduction of london to people. Its kind of hollistic...its one thing to sample the best restaurants and more interesting exhibitions and culture, but how do you achieve the look?

1st October 2009
My delightful Russian clients, who have made their home in an arts and crafts mansion in St Gerard's Cross, were collected by me and my driver Gary. A day in London included the sights as well as buying suits in Savile Row - from Richard James to Huntsman - wine from Berry Bros in St James's and finally tea at Holme House, conveniently round the corner from The Wallace Collection, which was getting ready for the absurdly extravagant Damien Hirst Exhibition. I suppose its quite difficult to not be vainglorious if you have been elected to the role of Louis XIV of modern art, travel by private jet, have a net worth of over £100 million and yet can't paint.

That evening I joined Elisa Segrave and Desmond MacCarthy at a book reading which was being held at Waterstones on Nottinghill. I stood at the back amoungst the tables of best sellers. I received a silent txt: 'Pretty pedestrian this lot' read the message. It was from Elisa, sitting 4 seats away. Elisa can be very funny and she wrote a wonderful book called 'The Diary of a Brest' about her experience of confronting and dealing with brest cancer. Elisa smiled as she saw me reading it. 'I know, I'm flicking through one of those how to get rich books...' I responded. We three went to the Uxbridge Pub in Uxbridge Road which is stuck in the seventies -in the best sense....twee bracket lights with covers that look like parchment with caligraphy, orange and yellow lights and prints of country pursuits on the walls. Its more gin and jag in Petworth than urban. Desmond went on to meet Jane Pickering (who my brother Jules chased 30 years ago and she is still beautiful)to see James Studholme perform in his band at the Metropolitan Pub, but I was too tired.

2nd October 2009
I met the writer Elena Bose Marano from the publication INDAGARE in NYC. This is a very Upper Eastside magazine and we did an amusing and interesting interview for an hour or so. Upper East Side are an important demography for my business so it was good to be appealing to my audience.

In the afternoon I went with Sally Prideaux on a fact finding mission for Whitefriars Glass at the Goldsmiths Fair at the Goldsmith Guildhall. It was about jewelry and that is going to be increasingly relevant to Whitefriars Glass when it is launched. After that we went to the Museum of London to look at the Whitefriars Archive...unfortunately unavailable whist they rennovate the museum. We walked on past St Pauls and down to Fleet Street and into Whitefriars Street to the junction of Tudor Street. This was where Whitefriars Glass used to be manufactured...easy access to the Thames allowing the raw materials...sand for the glass and wood + coal for the furnaces to the works. It was fun to see the buildings that are now a block of flats. The style is Victorian but the company had been founded in 1680.

Couldn't resist taking Sally to El Vino's to drink in the atmosphere of Fleet Street of old - the days of Keith Waterhouse and Bill Deedes sitting there before Maxwell and Murdoch restructured the whole culture of the area. it was odd to get a call from a client in Florida whilst I was there, planning a cultural trip for a couple and their 45yr old daughter.

That evening the band promoter Tim Britton, over from NYC, took me with Jeremy Brettingham and his artist wife Mary MacCarthy, to see Howard Baker's play at the Riverside Studios. 'Found in the Ground' is one of those harrowing plays that is visually remarkable and extraordinary in the matter of stage craft. I didn't understand a single word of it and was extremely uncomfortable. I would have been happier having a therapy session involving the dynamics of my relatonship with my mother and my 9 siblings hosted by Oprah Winfrey in front of a live audience of thousands. It was difficult to enjoy dinner at little Asia on the Brompton Road afterwards as my stomach was unsettled by the ordeal.

At 1am I bumpted into my nephew on Brompton Road and we wasted 20 minutes trying to find a bar to sit down and chat. What is it with the problems of 24hr drinking when you cannot find place to do it?

Saturday 3rd October
I managed to complete two oil paintings before joining Liz Hoggard from the Standard, Tim Britton, Sarah Wodehouse the designer and Mark Gardiner the Finance Director of Random House. Somehow I managed to come up with freah corn on the cob followed by fresh wild trout with Moroccan beans and lentils. Somehow too it was delicious.