Friday, 18 December 2015

NEIGHBOURS AND OTHER PEOPLE

Christmas is on the door step and I nearly went mad trying to find an angel for my tree this week. 
With at least eight rooms featuring different types of Christmas decorations in Harrods, I thought I was going to collapse with the heat and I got the vapours.  I feel London has been invaded by thousands of people. Leaving Harrods I was exhausted. I decided to order them by post and two promptly arrived,  as I apparently pressed the send button twice on the computer by mistake from Balsam Hill. Beautiful delicate golden angels, I could not part with one of them so kept them both.
Apart from my new tree which smells delicious also from the Balsam, there are are a lot of changes in my house this week, for a start I asked the Bay Tree in the front garden to be trimmed, instead it got chopped in half, I can't pull it down as good old Henry V111 planted it and I hate pulling down trees. The good thing is I now have far reaching views from my drawing room. 
Bored with the joke, my "White Elephant" is no longer in the house as I put it on my terrace, I think I shall cover it with my fake jewellery as it looks so happy among the old geranium plants and now he can flash my neighbours.
Some poor dog continually barks nearby day and night. Yapping, it is clearly left. I thought about rescuing it but knew that within minutes I would be caught if I climbed  into the next door garden. Seriously though why have dogs if you don't look after them?
On another grumble why is it that builders like to start work at 7.30am and then finish at 10.00am?
Next door feels as if they are going to enter my bedroom any minute as they build a huge new extension. The house clearly hates it and groans as yet another nail goes into the party wall.
Then the building on the opposite side of the river is now considered the largest building site in the whole of Europe, in the old Battersea Power Station, designed now by Frank Gehry. This time they have not used Terry Farrell for more dreary constructions, but the brilliant Frank Gehry who last year interviewed for Liberatum  Terry Farrell has already ruined Earls court by pulling down the famous architect who built Detroit, Howard Crane. I loved Earls Courts facade and do not really understand the very fast changing face of London. Let's hope that in 50 years from now Terry Farrell's hideous constructions are removed too. Anyway, these huge building projects now explain why Lorries are hooting all night and are driving at huge speeds along the embankment. I am definitely going to join Zac Goldsmith's team to fight this huge intrusion as he makes his way to becoming Mayor of London.   I do hope the golden Mr Goldsmith is not beaten to the post by Mr  Khan, England is already going to the dogs. Hope Mr Khan if he gets in is all for freedom of speech and not homophobic.

My fur coats, I gather, are now in the height of fashion on upright chairs and copies were featured in The Turner Prize by Nicole Wermer who copied Hungarian Architect and Modernist, furniture designer, Marcel Breuer.  Good news as I have been using fur this way for ages. Old news, though as the Turner Prize used to be so bang up to date and exciting.
I have checked out some portrait artists too, thinking of making sure I last forever and
I do like having my portrait done. I love having my photograph taken too, but there is something
lasting about a portrait. Years ago Bob Carlos Clarke wanted to photograph me behind bars as a convict, instead of in PVC which he usually used. I liked the idea. Instead I have had mine painted three times, twice by Theo Platt,  once by Vincenzo deMaar  which I received at my 50th birthday having never met him but featuring two heads. Snap shot photography is great but selfies do not have the same glamour as a painting.
This week saw the huge sale of Margaret Thatcher's most intimate items, I was rather appalled by the sale of her clothes, ordinary and normal tailored suits. What were the avaricious Carol and Mark thinking of? Clearly they need the cash, but really it is unthinkable to sell a wedding dress. I remember my Mother chopping up hers, a beautiful pale green wedding dress, and turning it into coat hangers. Common sense though for a second. We never own anything, we just borrow them for the time they are in our possession, so perhaps the greedy unattractive twins for once thought right?
Thank goodness I am not into Turd Art. This is the final insult to humanity as we see it. You certainly should think about giving some money away if you buy the Venus di Milo made out of turds sold for $50,000  from excrement Pandas moulded by children with a little help from artist Zhu Cheng.  Of course Chris Ofili used elephant dung, but he did it so well. Reported here in the LA Times the world is at its end, but at last I can now see a river view from my drawing room.

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