In other news, my Dearest Muvver the Dowager Duchess von und zu Neustadt has her birthday on Sunday. Marfs and I are going down to the South Coast tomorrow to help celebrate it by eating what I hope will be a suitably expensive and delicious luncheon at the Sussex Pad.
It would be highly unchivalrous for an officer of my aristocratic background to reveal a lady's age so I will just vaguely hint that she was somewhere around 85 last year. I know you're supposed to like your Mum anyway so I am hardly an unbiased reporter but she really is a bit of a star.
Last time we were at the Pad the Infanta Marfs (I really must try to get a grip) was really quite unwell with fluish type symptoms not helped by the car journey and the erratic driving of Boris the Mad Chauffeur who kept shrieking "revenants in the trees!" and trying to go off-road after them. As far as I recall she was eventually pretty much off her face on painkillers, stugeron and a couple of Kirs Royals (oops bad parenting alert voop voop). So it might be quite nice for her to see the Pad without purple Alsatians' heads sprouting through the ceiling and the pot plants singing witty rustic ditties as the floor gently undulates in time, or whatever.
After that we shall drop the Duchess back at Chichester and zoom back to London, as the rest of the weekend consists of editing, rehearsing, rehearsing and more editing. Sigh. In a more relaxed world I would make a nice weekend of it in Sussex.
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