Saturday, 23 May 2009


The good thing about sports days is seeing how perfect some mothers are. Harrow is a bit of an antiquated affair, with the boys still wearing tails and boaters, and they do look amazing. A pity the world has become so shabby, here you enter 1880 quite easily. Carnations in button holes, sit down picnics with flowers on the tables in magnificent white tents. Suckling pigs ready to guzzle, and mothers calling out for boys by their surnames. Eliasch come and sit with me, and where are Hearne and Potter? So fabulously old fashioned and English. Everybody keeps to their own. Boys sing, boys play cricket and boys win the tug of war. Debonaire von Bismarck is perfect in every way, and you really only need to know her or Sue Sangster if you want a truly delicious lunch. I try not to sponge but some people just have that edge of brilliance needed to win Super Mummy. I love the stories boys standing on loos, flooding the whole house, not happy with this they stand on the basin making it worse. How fantastic it is to be British on a sunny May afternoon.
Eric from Los Angeles was the guest surprise. The best florist in the world.

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