Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Neil Young Old Man live in '71


Have you ever had a boyfriend who hid you away from site, locked you in a cupboard without a key? This is exactly what I do not want.  I was listening to a girlfriend this morning, who goes out with this famous old man. A musician from the 1950's, and famous somewhere in the 1970's.  He meets her, feeds her with liver pate sandwiches made by his housekeeper, goes for a walk to lock up his cocks, sorry chickens, goes home, makes love to her, and then doesn't see her for another 6 weeks.  I told her to get rid of him.  He is between 65 and death, and she a gorgeous 49 year old woman.  What does she need to waste her time on someone like that. He also has other girlfriends.  All of this would torment me to death.  I need just one person.
I am a passionate romantic, looking for a writer who loves me. Simple as that.  I would like a writer because it is fun to write together, or at least be silent together.
In any case she is in love so she will put up with the bother of any old man who has no interest in her.
I won't.  I would rather be on my own. N'or do I need to have someone famous to boost my healthy morale.  I  would like someone to share my life.  (although I am not sure I want to share someone else's).
So boot that old man out of your life my friend and get some dishy man the same age as you. Forget fame and fortune and go for passion.


Tuesday, 28 June 2011


Piet Odulf, a famous  Dutch architect has created an intriguing black box for the Serpentine Summer party this year.  With rain pouring down the glamorous and beautiful crowded under black umbrellas not caring whether there was rain or not.  It was beautiful.  Surrounded by mirrors and hiding an internal garden it was simply exotic. Nobody complained about the weather, it was  fun to see each other.  Although I was there for literally seconds I bumped into Nicholas Haslam looking delicious in cream, Julia Peyton Jones, the brilliance running the whole show, David Collins, Sophie Montgomery, Poppy Delevigne looking stunning as usual.  It was going to be a groovy evening despite the bursting clouds.
I had to leave to support my friend Kay Saatchi whose art was up at auction at Christies. By the time we arrived  the Ron Mueck the baby was sold for a whopping 700,000 pounds, so she did not need my help at all.    I rushed round to the Wolsey to give my pal a kiss. She won't be worried about using all the Q tips up. It was a good sale.
We ate in good company, the world was there Anna Wintour shone like the star she is on the next door table.  I wanted to go up and offer her all the Head tennis rackets she wanted.  Everybody knows she adores the game. In any case Charlie was stopped by  Jennifer Saunders who told him he was the best dressed man she had ever seen.  What a proud mother I was.

It a


My dear friend Kay is selling some of artwork today at Christies contemporary sale in King Street.  I wish her all the luck in the world.  It is very sad to sell pieces you love, but the light in Los Angeles is different so requires another style.  In any case sometimes it is good to empty our brain from possessions. Good luck my lovely pal.

Sunday, 26 June 2011


Vanna White an American television personality wrote "Any press is good press" I am personally not so sure.  Yesterday morning I definitely did not think so.

I am doing this play despite the ridicule of this piece, it is a play I believe in.  I have had good press and bad press.  I generally like press about my houses as I think it safer.

The power of The Mail with a salacious title  is that the piece  makes me want to hide under a pillow. t has gone round the world, on people's blogs, news etc.  It is very old news,  actually ten years old, so it is funny that it's readers were even interested.?  I am certainly not.  It was a very painful time for me and I am just getting over it.  I was wondering why I ever lived this lie?

I am producing the play at the Chelsea Theatre in London and I have just done a neon show at Leadapron in Los Angeles with Kay Saatchi.  That is what I talked about with the journalist. No other reason to be interviewed..  Of course the journalist charmingly skimmed over old tales with the pretence to cover a story about an incident when a man tried to knife me beside the Royal Festival Hall.  There are many old mistakes that other journalists previously made but the title makes a new readership want to read it.  It pushed up my google count by 60,000 overnight.. What is the world coming too? When there is so much devastation, war and famine, people would rather read something with an obviously catching title and completely out of date?. Another interesting fact is that a friend tried to put a positive comment on the end of the article and was rejected.  The newspaper clearly prefers the negative responses.  Funny really, my Father was their foreign correspondent in the late 1950's early 60's.

Correcting a few facts:
My mother was actually the second daughter of  Sidney Gilliat and that information can be found on Wikipedia and almost any website about him.  I have never had lunch at the Ivy with any man, and those are only two of the mistakes, the rest are so ridiculous that I cannot be bothered to change them.

The journalist Angellina Johnson was totally delightful, in fact I will make a friend of hers, but mashing the previously printed pieces without first checking the facts, makes certain inaccuracies in them, definitely less interesting than the truth. Is this public relations? I shall see in due course. Did it open old wounds, it most definitely did?

I shall keep working  and believe neither the good or the bad. My apologies to those that it has hurt or embarrassed. The script is coming alive and at the moment the rehearsals are moving and well done by all concerned. Hope to see you there.

Saturday, 25 June 2011


Lisa Borgnes and Julie Anne Rhodes
Contrary to Gore Vidal, who said "Whenever a friend of mine succeeds, something in me dies" I love my friends achieving things especially when they are older. I am all for the forty plusses finding a second wind, creating and sharing their ideas. Julie Anne Rhodes ex wife of Nick Rhodes, of Duran Duran, is one of the brave women who decided to work in a new world, she has produced a cook book. There are hundreds of books of this nature but she has created from the world she knew. As one of the kindest and most welcoming women in Los Angeles, full of charm and beauty. she gave me a lunch. Her food was truly delicious and the recipes work. I went to Winkfield Place many years ago to learn this art, but was never really good at it, which is why I have a desire to learn with the best. Tom Aikens knows this, even though he does not believe me, I like simple cooking, with yummy consequences. With "Party Accomplished", an e book this is the practical way to go. No more soggy pages as you try to read, with ingredients all over it. This book is available on line. Last night I went to another successful woman's opening, Kay Saatchi's dinner at Christies. Kay has now moved to Los Angeles too and no longer has room for many of her prized possessions. She is ready for a new life, so her valuable and extraordinary collection is available at auction from Tuesday. I love the baby by Ron Mueck, I remember it well on her piano. The good thing about flowering when you are over 50 is you have wisdom as well as beauty. Youth is fabulous but for me older is better.

Thursday, 23 June 2011


I want to thank all who are involved in my play, Justine Glenton, you were so moving the other day that it shocked me, the part of the boy played by Charlie was brilliant and Susan Parkes Opera singer and good sport, put on a pre show run through for Peter Leone, or Arthur Leone, the press man. He is totally brilliant. Hair and make up are beginning to be exciting. I can't wait to see the set designed by my wonderful friend Nicholas Haslam next week end. It is all coming together and the actors really get on. They were easy to work with. If you want tickets, please be sure to order them as there are only 100 a night, with some nights already sold out. The Chelsea Theatre are selling them on line, they are on the Kings Road, and the theatre is upstairs. Hope you come xx




There is nothing of me left, all passion has gone, and I await death, hopefully soon, As hope has, left my heart, I wish to die of that, I long to be kissed, yet the feeling of death, is gratefully soon upon me. please do not leave me when I die, stay holding my hand, for an hour, or so, so my soul feels at peace, and knows it was loved, even if you could not show it.

Francesco Tristano - bachCage Video


Rehearsed all day in the house running lines. It is so fun to see a play progress. Hairstyles, clothes movement all incorporated into this play add to it's excitement. I was rushed and forgot everything that I was meant to be doing concentrating entirely on the play. Justine Glenton is really a good actress and it is exciting watching the whole thing come together. With a struggle I made the BFI dinner last night, it was given to award Judy Dench for her contribution to film and theatre. I sat next to Beebon Kidron, she was a tour du force. Having directed Brigitte Jones's diary and some incredible documentaries. I ran home and half watched her collection last night, one on Indian girls which was so moving that I could not sleep. Haunting and terrible these poor girls go through hell. On the the other side of me sat the brilliant and creative Adam Curtis, who was feisty and argumentative. I think he was very irritated. How could he not be? I am everything he thinks he hates, yet doesn't. In any case he makes the sort of television I can actually watch, Oh Dearies... etc. Actually from finding him patronising I am now his biggest fan. As I could not sleep I nagged Charles my eldest son to come and talk to me at 2am. Luckily he was still awake. There is nothing on the planet better than talking with my boys. I find their youthful clean brains truly enlightening.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011


Yesterday I was rushed off my feet, I have forgotten how time consuming the Theatre world is. I had forgotten how much time you have to give to everything. From the press to the make up, from the serious to the facile. It needs time, so I nearly had a nervous breakdown at the thought of giving one more interview. I simply felt sick of exposing myself. Yet it has to be done. To sell tickets you have to sell your soul. By the evening, and after a little afternoon sleep I was feeling better. Having done a terrible interview I went round to Selfridges for Tracey Emin's opening of wonderful trinkets, books, artwork, prints. I bumped into friends which was good. Anita Zabludowicz, Anastasia and Stephen Webster, and the physic Sisters. One of these brilliant women I had met
with Belinda Carlisle. Anyway she remembered me but could not remember where she had met me. She told me the whole of my life in such accuracy and I had certainly told nobody anything like that. It was a great reading. I then had a delicious dinner at Oliveto on Elizabeth Street, I should not have as I am doing the Cleanse again. I just cannot be on it all of the time. On arriving home I was happy to have both boys playing on my bed. We watched Tim Willis. Editor of, speak on Sky. Pleased for his success I fell into deep sleep.

Sunday, 19 June 2011


When I was a little girl growing up I would put my head under the water to try and remember what my father was like, to try and capture any memory I could of him, but I couldn’t. No amount of peace in the water would bring him back. My Mother was twenty two years old when she had me, pretty, naive and talented. She was always hardworking. I was born in the Lebanon, my father was foreign correspondent for the Daily Mail, and had just won "journalist of the year". He was an adventurer. This was in the days when journalism was glamorous. He looked good, tall, slim and dark haired, wearing the best of Savile Row, which he rarely if ever paid for. My Mother told me he slept with guns under his pillow, and she was often asked by him to rifle through people’s suitcases, while he enticed the owners with drink downstairs. He had the air of James Bond. My Mother had been brought up in girls boarding schools, and in Wiltshire. in a wonderful dream like house, in a small village. My Grandmother was a pianist with enormous talent - she would practise most days - an incredible hostess with fabulous legs and a tireless wit. My Grandmother had power, real power. She owned more shoes than anyone I have ever met, and could whip up a souffle and an exotic dinner for eight in half an hour. My Grandfather was the film director Sidney Gilliat, witty, quiet and busy with words. I could always find him sitting underneath piles of paper. He had a love of Shakespeare, opera and writing. He liked silence, tomatoes and his dog Hiccup. My father however was brought up in a sad household, his mother had supposedly jumped out of a window when he was eight and he never saw her again - except once, at Paddington Station many years later. He had a brother and a sister and many nephews who he never made an effort to see. I think he went to Grammar school, but I was never told. My grandparents were horrified when my mother married him. Although the most interesting man she had ever met, they knew there would be trouble and eventually there was. He left The Mail under a cloud, when I am told he interviewed Pasternak and was given letters for his family by the great man himself. Instead my father put the letters in the Mail. My family banned him from the house. My mother was put in the cottage in Wiltshire with two children and left to bring us up. She was never resentful, never angry about him. My mother was a saint, who I would get cross with, because of her undisputed unused talent I always felt as if I was missing something, that something in my soul had gone. I felt dead from1963, yet I carried on living. I never understood why. I always looked for a man who could replace him. I loved my Uncle, I loved my Grandfather, but they didn't pick me up from school, and it wasn't their place to cuddle me in the way a father cuddles their daughter. When I was twelve I received a book he had written wrapped in brown paper. Heavy exciting I unwrapped it. A Bodyguard of Lies was in front of me literally. In it said ‘To my children, Amanda and Toby, from your father’. That's all. I would get presents occasionally, but then they would disappear. Later I was told he had put them on my Grandparent's account at Harrods. I wasn't angry with him, just with my mother. I regret this. He never telephoned me, I never saw his family. Nothing. I did not know where he was. At about eighteen I wrote to him telling him about myself through his publisher's Harpers and Row. I heard nothing. Four years later I was living in London when I received a call to meet him. I had to go that minute or I would miss him. So I took a taxi and rushed. On arriving I walked in, and there in the corner smoking was an old distinguished man I knew immediately was him. He had of course aged from the elegant man in a photograph I had with me, as I walked over, it was nerve wracking. What should I say?, what should I do?. I sat with him. I ate. It felt uncomfortable, I was past the age when I could sit on his knee and let questions pop out by mistake. The dinner finished quickly, and he actually paid for it. I tried to talk about my mother, I tried to talk about his books. He was on guard. I could not wait to leave. It left me with a sinking feeling. It certainly did not fill the gap in my heart that I looked for. I met him ten times more. He once offered to send me to the States, I agreed to go, but although he offered to pay, he left me with the bill. He had one last chance to make amends, at the end before he died, in an old peoples home in the Washington. He had Alzheimer’s and was singing Rule Britannia. Very happy, he said he had joined the band. He took my hand and as he did, I looked down and realised his hands and mine were the same. Only his hands have ever fitted mine.

Wednesday, 15 June 2011


Today is the day of my show. I arrived on Saturday, and have been so wrapped up with the exhibition. I am seriously impressed with the chicness of Leadapron. Jonathan Brown the owner arranges things beautifully. It is really one of the best galleries in Los Angeles and very easy to get to. Melrose Place is totally charming. Pretty buildings with antiques and a good restaurant. I am totally happy with the production thanks to Michael Flechtner and it is even better than I anticipated.
Funny things happen in life, my family are constantly brought up in conversation nowadays, leaving me tearful and emotional. I am asked to write things for newspapers that are difficult to talk about. Today was incredible. I met a woman who had married a man whose ex wife had been best friends with my Grandmother. Not a day goes by that I do not think about my grandparents and family. It is so funny. I met this lovely woman through Kay Saatchi who I am doing the show with tomorrow. Whatever Kay says there would be no show without her. Who is the artist in these things? The person who asks people to do things or the person who makes them? I often wonder? In any case it is a collaboration and I am truly grateful to all involved. I collected the catalogues beautifully designed and Peccadilloes is now alive. Let's pray it is a success.

Friday, 10 June 2011



As a lover of being free, I have tried in life to follow the passion I have at that particular moment,not to persuade other people in my life, that what I was doing was right, or to convince them to follow me but to be open to explore roads I am interested in.  This has lead me to the worlds of photography, fashion, poetry and now I have finished writing a play. I think this way order happens in any case, although I can look hectic and chaotic, my values are not so different from anybody else's, I just wish them to be honest, which is tricky in this world which is ruled by politics and religion.

I first took photographs for British Artists at Work about ten years ago,and the following inspirations evolved,

and I became interested in fashion, poetry and literature.  I work as  Fashion Editor  for Genlux Magazine, and have written two

books of poetry one called Cloak and Dagger Butterfly, and one called The Sins of a Butterfly, I also have my first neon exhibition at

the Leadapron Gallery called Peccadilloes, 7 neons of my deadly sins. I now have written my first play called As I like it, which is

being performed at The Chelsea Theatre with Lyall Watson.


I love blogs, they are a diary of thought.  The good ones leave you feeling alive on this planet. One of  my favourites is Julieanne Rhodes, Roving Stove,
I love her support in this particular blog.  I also love her recipes.  From writing she has made quite a name for herself.  Her cupcakes are truly delicious, and her stories too.

Lisa Borgnes's beautifully written and presented blog must be read, as a true intellectual and lover of literature, Lisa has a passion that makes me want to read more and more.

Nicholas Haslam's intrigue and ideas make me happy on a daily basis.  His quick wit and honesty can have you in stitches.

Franca Sozzani is of course the Queen for me.  Having given me wonderful opportunites, she also has the foresight to see what will be a success or not.  She has a certain magic at getting the best out of people.

Betty Bui has a blog that covers mostly art in the East.  It reminds me that there are other things on the planet than the West. She lives in Paris and has a wonderful character.

The Huffington Post is huge with one of the largest circulations on the planet, if not the largest.  I read it every day.

Don't lie we all read the Daily Mail. It has everything, from scandal to what we should and should not do. It is the modern Bible.

The Fashionista  has oodles of ideas and thoughts ...

Another Magazine is a platform for thought for supposedly men, but I read it...   Harpers have a great magazine on line, interesting fodder for a rainy day.

Thursday, 9 June 2011


I had forgotten how time consuming a play is. Not because I am sitting in rehearsal all of the time but I am working behind the scenes to make sure I pull this thing off.  Yesterday I was interviewed by a newspaper who asked lots of questions that were very intelligent.  I wrote this play on my own originally, but without the brilliance of Lyall Watson turning it into a play, there might be nothing. Of course, as a partnership, there are things within it that have to be worked on.  It is difficult to do a monologue and make it interesting.  I liked the idea because there are so few plays available for women over a certain age. This one is written for an attractive, clever woman whose life is better off the stage.  I hope I have accomplished this. With music and other actors helping the actress, some of it is certainly compelling.  Everybody is getting on and the standard is  high. Justine Glenton works like a trojan.  I am exhausted and its only the second week. My role seems to be to do the press.  Nobody else wants to do it.  Without press we won't sell tickets.  So I will do the best job possible.

I had to rush for a lunch,  my friends today, at Egg in Kinnerton Street, were giving  a birthday party.  It looked seriously pretty in an old fashioned dairy, with  white smocks hanging on the wall and country flowers in jugs.  Totally gorgeous.  All green and white.  I am getting to love nature more and more. My friend Jane Schulak had done a brilliant job of creating a country atmosphere for our friend Fizzy Barclay.  It was a beautiful party. Jane was dressed in Aliai with a Prada hat covered with coral.  She looked gorgeous. I stayed longer than I thought I would.  How could I resist?  There was the most adorable elephant waiting for us in the shape of a birthday cake, in fact four beautiful elephants. It was certainly stylish.

Vodyanova's big heart

Monday, 6 June 2011


Theatre gets fashionable with Amanda Eliasch debut

Theatre gets fashionable with Amanda Eliasch debut

War and Peace

Elgar Cello Concerto 1st mov.


Green lands are so precious and there is nothing better than going into the oldest parts of Great Britain. It does so much to make my imagination flow.  Waking to the sound of nothing but birds and the sound of waves breaking against rocks is what I wish for.
Yesterday I went for a lovely lunch with loads of small children, the atmosphere was calm, the children happy and from the corner of my eye I was able to watch the French Open at Roland Garros.  My favourite Nadal won, I just knew he would.  I have no hesitation over this mans brilliance.  He never disappoints. It could not have been a better day.  
Everything I ate was truly yummy.  I had been doing my fast for three days with Radiance in London. It works quickly and efficiently.  I am really only able to have liquids these days.  I feel much better on them. 
I think most foods are poison.  I wish I had learnt that when I was young.
There are troubles brewing with the trees of London.  Too many are being removed by councils.  My friend Christina Rotholz has set up a committee, and with the help of The Woodland Trust she is doing her best to save them.  The councils like to cut them down because it costs too much to clean up the mess they make.  With four million people unemployed surely there is enough labour to help? What is society coming to that we are too lazy to clear up after beautiful nature that has been here for already for two hundred years?  The people within the councils should be argued with. It is a crime. Anyway in the hands of Christina we can be assured the fight is on.
Bryan Ferry, Nicholas Haslam and Astrid Munoz all agreed to support her, to persuade ignorant councils that what they are doing is against the nature and beauty of London is a criminal offence.
Christina's email should you wish to help is


I look in the mirror
but only see what I want to
I turn left
I turn right
and nod
as if the image
I see is answering
I ask my soul
am I okay
it answers
in another voice
as if it is another voice
I ask if what I am doing is right
it rarely answers no
I know it to be
both right and wrong

Saturday, 4 June 2011

Lord Saatchi 'Something To Believe In' - Alfred Dunhill Discovery Evening

The Collective Review

Josephine Hart's last message: 'Without reading I would have found life less bearable' | News

All Star Orchestra - My Melancholy Baby

FAREWELL JOSEPHINE HART her famous saying I love is "Damaged people are dangerous, they know they can survive"

I met Josephine and Maurice Saatchi in the early 1990's, through Charles and Kay Saatchi who were then married, geniuses marry geniuses, both were.  They gave wonderful lunches in the country and the South of France in their stunning house overlooking the sea, which were always full of intellectual people from Helmut Newton and his wife, to Lord and Lady Loyd Webber.  She was always stylish in her black and white Comme des Garcons suits, with a roaring and wonderful sense of humour, she had a cleverness that most people would envy.
I fell in love with her book "Damage" which affected me so much that I underlined all it's amazing passages. I remember that she said to me that she had the character of a book when when had found the last line. I have not read her other books because I  wanted to stay in love with that one.  Certain books ingrain themselves into me and I don't want to tarnish that feeling.
Her other brilliance was encouraging people to love poetry with readings.  The London Library was packed out always full of fans of the  written word.  There was star quality about Josephine, I always felt a little bit stupid next to her, not because she made me feel uncomfortable, on the contrary, but because her brain was so quick and she had authority. Josephine you will be very missed.

Damage pt.19

Josephine Hart and Jeremy Irons: On Poetry

Memories of Josephine Hart

Friday, 3 June 2011

Ronan Parke - Britain's Got Talent Live Semi-Final - - UK...


I love my friends, but I ask myself sometimes who is there to talk to? I sometimes want to be played around with, you know ruffled up a bit.  I want to realise why it is important to put on my lipstick, to be appreciated.  I know I am, but I would like a little intimate flattery. One nice remark goes a long way.  I can put on that coy face and pretend that I do not need it.  Every woman needs to be told she is pretty, attractive, smells nice, has long legs.  The other side of it is, that most people do not see me enough to fuck me about, to fuck me about you need to see me a lot.
I have a wonderful life but if you think that it's luck, it is not, it is hard work.  Every day there are things that  just don't go right for me.  You know the sort of things, a light falls out of the ceiling on your head. The flowers die in the heat, even though you water them.  I get a parking ticket. The sandwiches are more curly than my hair.
I have to stay up all night to be like me.  I am a healed result of my past.  I like, all girls need passion and stability in equal portions.  I would like a man to stay ten minutes longer than they can, because they wanted to.
I see men like this, if they are nice to me, sweet with me, then they are shining men on white horses, if they are casual well....
The point is I do not like the leftovers and I want to be a luxurious must have. I want a complete conversation, open and honest. When men become too successful, or not successful enough they can forget so much.  I wish I could have that much testosterone. They forget who helps and supports them.
Of course I have been fortunate to have seen their magnificent body, my memory is very long.
I want to be grabbed and ordered about sexually and told that I have to be good to him because he is working hard.  I do not want to end up saying all this to the speaking clock.  I know what time it is, it is going fast.  I know your mouth cannot form  the words I love you, even if it were true, but I sometimes need the lie to protect my innocence and purity. My ears and heart need this, because this gives me a reason to live. Asked why I like frenchman,  I think this is the only place in the world that understood crimes of passion. You have to love somebody very much in order to hurt them. Don't show the cockroaches on the wall, turn me to the beautiful orchids. In fact send me flowers. Go anonymously to a florist and dive into your very closed up bunker and find some financial shrapnel to throw across a counter.
The wound needs to be cleaned. I am a woman, I love deeply.  Since half the world are women, surely men have come accross one or two before, if not, if you have not met a woman like me, I shall have to teach them from the beginning, and if you have, don't tell me because my jealousy will be white hot.
When I see you I see just you. When you see me I would like you to actually open your eyes and see me.


Thursday, 2 June 2011


I hate to be so aggressive but have you checked your telephone bill recently when you roam?. I am horrified each month to receive two thousand pound bills.  I have eradicated my friends, chopped them in half, and speak for no longer than 3 minutes and still the horrendous bills come through.  I would not mind if the emails were billet doux from some luscious lover, but they are usually spam from Viagra salesmen, or  women offering services.  I am tired of the endless costs from Vodaphone my provider. Two thousand pounds a month requires capital of a about one million pounds, so you could say why are my telephone bills so high, and that I am lucky to go abroad?  This is all true, but the costs are totally out of proportion to the amount of usage.