Sunday 27 October 2013
Saturday 26 October 2013
Friday 25 October 2013
NEEDED A MAN WITH WHITE SUIT AND A WHITE UMBRELLA WITH LIME GREEN INTERIOR
I am looking for a man with a white suit, a ponytail, grey hair swept back with new black ribbon, a widower, holding a white umbrella with a lime green interior. An aquiline nose and about to retire from the East Indies, 1732 it may be. I picked up the book by Arthur Quiller-Couch, (the man who collated the huge book of Oxford Verse) in the fabulous hotel Cliveden and fell in love immediately with the hero, only to find he disappeared within the first ten pages. Don't you find it irritating that books are so predictable I know he is either killed off or going to appear having stolen some cash or killing his wife. In any case the man sounds gorgeous if only the world were like that?
Cliveden used to be the home of the Astors and thank goodness they are not here anymore, it is much more fun without them. They are better to read about in books, and nobody wants to have boring conversations with a whole lot of stiffs, who believe their press, and on top of that you end up having to tip the maid. Thank goodness the National Trust took over. I would rather watch them in some Television series on Channel Dave and dream about lunching with them from afar.
I ate in the stable which was rather disconcerting as the drainage system was down the central bit and all I could see, were the ponies there, from times gone by, They were chewing hay and stamping their feet. Their saddles sadly turned into chairs. I swear I am a witch. As the lights twinkled, that is the ones that still worked, as many did not, I heard the old cob whinny, as the stable boy brushed his gleaming coat and mucked the ponies out. I even could see the mice and rats in the straw. So why was this wonderful building not a stable anymore?. The National Trust of course banned hunting, but despite its disappearance you can feel the ghosts of the past.
I am off to hit the sack in a comfortable bed of down, posh feathers to my companion.
I am beginning to like the words toilet, meal and posh as I get older, I feel the snobbery of Sir Arthurs books tedious as I try to find my man with the umbrella.
Cliveden used to be the home of the Astors and thank goodness they are not here anymore, it is much more fun without them. They are better to read about in books, and nobody wants to have boring conversations with a whole lot of stiffs, who believe their press, and on top of that you end up having to tip the maid. Thank goodness the National Trust took over. I would rather watch them in some Television series on Channel Dave and dream about lunching with them from afar.
I ate in the stable which was rather disconcerting as the drainage system was down the central bit and all I could see, were the ponies there, from times gone by, They were chewing hay and stamping their feet. Their saddles sadly turned into chairs. I swear I am a witch. As the lights twinkled, that is the ones that still worked, as many did not, I heard the old cob whinny, as the stable boy brushed his gleaming coat and mucked the ponies out. I even could see the mice and rats in the straw. So why was this wonderful building not a stable anymore?. The National Trust of course banned hunting, but despite its disappearance you can feel the ghosts of the past.
I am off to hit the sack in a comfortable bed of down, posh feathers to my companion.
I am beginning to like the words toilet, meal and posh as I get older, I feel the snobbery of Sir Arthurs books tedious as I try to find my man with the umbrella.
Thursday 24 October 2013
CLEVER MEN FROM HERE TO ETERNITY
Two weeks ago I slated the Light Princess, not for the clashing colours or brilliant imagery, but for a badly told story which needed editing and sadly it still does. That is unless you want a wriggly seven year old making a scene in a car park.
Round the corner is the opening of From here to enternity
Of course I am biased as I love my friend, Tim, but I can also have a sense of reason too.
The directors, and all involved from The National, really need to visit and learn from Sir Tim Rice and Stuart Brayson who have put on his latest musical From here to eternity. This is a story about Pearl Harbour, written in 1951 and turned into a film which won 8 oscars, by Fred Zinnerman with Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr. Nothing could be more tricky to follow and questions pop into my mind, why now? We have seen such brutality in the Middle East that nothing surprises us, or does it? How can it be turned into a musical? Whether they have full houses or not, this musical has something.
I was actually shocked by the homosexuality, we are so brain washed about political correctness, that the word "queer" rang in my ears. At the same time, it occurred to me Jews were being rounded up and killed, actually the musical has depth, and America, hypocrisy. The world was as we know it violent on both sides of the fence. The point is Sir Tim and his cast have turned an out of date story into something worthy of remembrance. Poignant and touching the songs ring in my ears. I was lucky enough to spend an afternoon listening to early recordings of the musical. Some beautiful moments.
The story includes a lesson on fleeting romance and the bigotry within the army. A good old fashioned story, yet bang up to date as well. My friend Tim is old fashioned, and thank goodness for that. The new nowadays is just not that attractive in most cases. A dose of old fashioned could be a good thing?.
This is a Christmas Show for Granny and Aunty with enough raunch to keep the teenager in her seat and not punch you for taking her to a crashingly boring show. They may also leave with something to think about. Remember teenagers think they are teenagers aged 7.
The staging was brilliant, with clever choreography, in slow motion, the brothel scenes. the love scenes, held together well with Darius from Pop Idol giving his all. A musical for me has to be slick, fast paced with numbers ringing in your ears as you leave the theatre. It is not Mary Poppins but it seriously has a place next to Lion King where there is not a bad number. Actually Sir Tim and whoever he works with seem to be as near genius as you get when it comes to making musicals, so worth watching just to see he can do more than Beauty and the Beast and Evita. Let's face it, wherever you go in the world, however obscure, you see a banner of "The Lion King"
That is why I like him, and he can answer any question on the planet. With an after party in my favourite place The Freemasons Hall, I could not have wished for a better evening. Oh for clever men.
P.S I loved the tickets, invitation and website.
Round the corner is the opening of From here to enternity
Of course I am biased as I love my friend, Tim, but I can also have a sense of reason too.
The directors, and all involved from The National, really need to visit and learn from Sir Tim Rice and Stuart Brayson who have put on his latest musical From here to eternity. This is a story about Pearl Harbour, written in 1951 and turned into a film which won 8 oscars, by Fred Zinnerman with Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr. Nothing could be more tricky to follow and questions pop into my mind, why now? We have seen such brutality in the Middle East that nothing surprises us, or does it? How can it be turned into a musical? Whether they have full houses or not, this musical has something.
I was actually shocked by the homosexuality, we are so brain washed about political correctness, that the word "queer" rang in my ears. At the same time, it occurred to me Jews were being rounded up and killed, actually the musical has depth, and America, hypocrisy. The world was as we know it violent on both sides of the fence. The point is Sir Tim and his cast have turned an out of date story into something worthy of remembrance. Poignant and touching the songs ring in my ears. I was lucky enough to spend an afternoon listening to early recordings of the musical. Some beautiful moments.
The story includes a lesson on fleeting romance and the bigotry within the army. A good old fashioned story, yet bang up to date as well. My friend Tim is old fashioned, and thank goodness for that. The new nowadays is just not that attractive in most cases. A dose of old fashioned could be a good thing?.
This is a Christmas Show for Granny and Aunty with enough raunch to keep the teenager in her seat and not punch you for taking her to a crashingly boring show. They may also leave with something to think about. Remember teenagers think they are teenagers aged 7.
The staging was brilliant, with clever choreography, in slow motion, the brothel scenes. the love scenes, held together well with Darius from Pop Idol giving his all. A musical for me has to be slick, fast paced with numbers ringing in your ears as you leave the theatre. It is not Mary Poppins but it seriously has a place next to Lion King where there is not a bad number. Actually Sir Tim and whoever he works with seem to be as near genius as you get when it comes to making musicals, so worth watching just to see he can do more than Beauty and the Beast and Evita. Let's face it, wherever you go in the world, however obscure, you see a banner of "The Lion King"
That is why I like him, and he can answer any question on the planet. With an after party in my favourite place The Freemasons Hall, I could not have wished for a better evening. Oh for clever men.
P.S I loved the tickets, invitation and website.
Tuesday 22 October 2013
TO THE OSCARS WITH SAVING MR BANKS
I rushed home for the end of the London Film Festival hosted by the W hotel and American Express. I love the BFI and all they stand for. This is my favourite festival of all.
I easily cry, I am an emotional creature trying to remain hard, but there is something about Saving Mr Banks which is so incredible for me that I am still thinking about it today. The portrayals by Tom Hanks and Emma Thompson are moving that Oscars surely await them?
My personal love of Mary Poppins started when I was five years old, crying through Camp Hobson's a shop at the back of the cinema in Newbury. I did not want it to end. Aged four or five, I could not believe a film could end. I was told I was spoilt and ridiculous. I wanted my mother to buy me a Barbie, a Thelwell pony, anything to alleviate the pain of this film ending. The film brings back memories, Let's all fly a kite, Just a spoon full of sugar, we all know the songs, and with each handkerchiefs and snuffles were muffled by laughter and the gorgeous feeling they brought back. John Lee Hancock has stirred up a wonderful childhood tear jerker to our screens, with no violence or swearing. Showing Hollywood to be a discerning place full of compassion.
I don't want to tell the story, we all know it, I want everybody to see the best film for me this year.
Last night I was given a wonderful lecture and opportunity to show my film at www.theotherclub.co.uk. Full of intelligent women I was grilled about The gun the cake and the butterfly. What it meant? How long did it take to make etc.
With everybody cheering me on, and criticising me too, in equal portions I knew I was at home in London, where to be totally positive is a Californian trait.
All love to Katie Glass for organising it.
I also had time to pass by Joan Collins Party and get two copies of her new book "Passion for Life"
I am her best fan, who else would look so magnificent, with diamonds and black satin, beautifully fitting in The Westbury's new night club.
The first page tells it all "If you have got it, flaunt it" I also like the last bit of wisdom, "The more toadying gofers you have the quicker your coffers dry up"
I easily cry, I am an emotional creature trying to remain hard, but there is something about Saving Mr Banks which is so incredible for me that I am still thinking about it today. The portrayals by Tom Hanks and Emma Thompson are moving that Oscars surely await them?
My personal love of Mary Poppins started when I was five years old, crying through Camp Hobson's a shop at the back of the cinema in Newbury. I did not want it to end. Aged four or five, I could not believe a film could end. I was told I was spoilt and ridiculous. I wanted my mother to buy me a Barbie, a Thelwell pony, anything to alleviate the pain of this film ending. The film brings back memories, Let's all fly a kite, Just a spoon full of sugar, we all know the songs, and with each handkerchiefs and snuffles were muffled by laughter and the gorgeous feeling they brought back. John Lee Hancock has stirred up a wonderful childhood tear jerker to our screens, with no violence or swearing. Showing Hollywood to be a discerning place full of compassion.
I don't want to tell the story, we all know it, I want everybody to see the best film for me this year.
Last night I was given a wonderful lecture and opportunity to show my film at www.theotherclub.co.uk. Full of intelligent women I was grilled about The gun the cake and the butterfly. What it meant? How long did it take to make etc.
With everybody cheering me on, and criticising me too, in equal portions I knew I was at home in London, where to be totally positive is a Californian trait.
All love to Katie Glass for organising it.
 |
| JUSTINE GLENTON READY FOR STARDOM IN HER RED SATIN GHOST OSCAR DRESS |
I also had time to pass by Joan Collins Party and get two copies of her new book "Passion for Life"
I am her best fan, who else would look so magnificent, with diamonds and black satin, beautifully fitting in The Westbury's new night club.
The first page tells it all "If you have got it, flaunt it" I also like the last bit of wisdom, "The more toadying gofers you have the quicker your coffers dry up"
 |
| JUSTINE GLENTON AMANDA ELIASCH AND JANE PROCTOR |
Saturday 19 October 2013
"CONSISTENCY IS THE HOBGOBLIN OF THE SMALL MIND" Julie Burchill
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My film is contradictory but I believe what Julie Burchill says, "Consistency is the hobgoblin of the small mind" I love to show madness, my madness and sanity altogether. Oscar Wilde said that "It showed a lack of imagination"
I also decided to get a new Estate Agency, Savills to sell my house on Cheyne Walk. I would like to live twenty miles from London, perhaps its time to see a bit of green, but my uncle said it is social suicide to live in Surrey. I shall keep Beauchamp Estates and Alan Russell, but the truth is that Savills have incredible internet presence, and I want to grab the sunshine in Los Angeles while I can. The flight despite the delectable man is a bit too much for me.
Anyway I shall follow the new ideas of selling my artwork with the house and have asked the agents to mention my Car painted by Inkie the Graffitti artist. A new life is always funny, and I wish to do as much as possible with it. Someone else can enjoy the views from my bedroom and perhaps my artwork. I always love being a follower of fashion.
In the meantime I am learning how to sell a film and what it means to my purse.
Monday 14 October 2013
THE SMILIE ICON MUST BE GAY
The smilie icon must be gay, he is much too nice, to be straight. Have you noticed that gay men look better, smell better, dress better, working on their characters. They are often
more artistic, they are more creative. The look after me, they pay for me, they drive me around and they are at the end of a telephone when I need them?.
The straight men are lagging behind big time with their tummies hanging over their sagging belts, in ill fitting suits. Football and drinking just do not do it for me.
I am happy being stroked by a gay man you know they are clean and are not going to do something nasty to you. They earn their own money, are successful and altogether more useful around the house than straight ones. They want to garden, decorate, hang paintings, do the shopping, cook, and even clean up afterwards. I was never interested before but I might come to some agreement and marry one, they are much more entertaining.
My best straight best male friend says that his straight friends are absolutely no good for me to go out with.
The gay men are often so attractive and easy to fall in love with. They are never unfaithful to me as they don't have sex, but talk about high heels and make up like loyal girlfriends.
Sex is fantastic but it causes so many problems.
My gay girlfriends look happier too, they have an inner glower which my heterosexual girlfriends do not have. They look content.
Best gay men for me are the following
Pablo Ganguli best ideas
Nicky Haslam best decorating
Sean Borg best writing
Eric Buterbaugh best flowers
They are all fabulous companions and never leave you at the table while they go and have a smoke.
They have fantastic manners, opening the car door. not slamming it on your face. They are good at flowers.
The are well spoken, they talk about clothes, they know about clothes. They reliable. They are fun to gossip with. They are sensitive and get hurt easily.
The ideal man for me is a gay man who does not like boys, he hasn't come out, he is frightened to be honest, so ultimately he is good at all of the above. He needs a wife to hide behind. Anybody suitable out there, let me know.
Here is a pink flower for you darling xx
An article from Hollywood this week.
more artistic, they are more creative. The look after me, they pay for me, they drive me around and they are at the end of a telephone when I need them?.
The straight men are lagging behind big time with their tummies hanging over their sagging belts, in ill fitting suits. Football and drinking just do not do it for me.
I am happy being stroked by a gay man you know they are clean and are not going to do something nasty to you. They earn their own money, are successful and altogether more useful around the house than straight ones. They want to garden, decorate, hang paintings, do the shopping, cook, and even clean up afterwards. I was never interested before but I might come to some agreement and marry one, they are much more entertaining.
My best straight best male friend says that his straight friends are absolutely no good for me to go out with.
The gay men are often so attractive and easy to fall in love with. They are never unfaithful to me as they don't have sex, but talk about high heels and make up like loyal girlfriends.
Sex is fantastic but it causes so many problems.
My gay girlfriends look happier too, they have an inner glower which my heterosexual girlfriends do not have. They look content.
Best gay men for me are the following
Pablo Ganguli best ideas
Nicky Haslam best decorating
Sean Borg best writing
Eric Buterbaugh best flowers
They are all fabulous companions and never leave you at the table while they go and have a smoke.
They have fantastic manners, opening the car door. not slamming it on your face. They are good at flowers.
The are well spoken, they talk about clothes, they know about clothes. They reliable. They are fun to gossip with. They are sensitive and get hurt easily.
The ideal man for me is a gay man who does not like boys, he hasn't come out, he is frightened to be honest, so ultimately he is good at all of the above. He needs a wife to hide behind. Anybody suitable out there, let me know.
Here is a pink flower for you darling xx
An article from Hollywood this week.
Friday 11 October 2013
WASTED DNA FOR A FRONT COVER
What a funny week it has been. I had an old boyfriend say I should start going out with a man properly and stop pissing about with nonsense. That I was too attractive to be on my own and on the shelf. The problem is not the other men in my life just that the sex was difficult to replace. I missed him because he was terrific in places that others were sadly lacking. Oh dear, as I look at the long legs in front of me, I just wish I wanted to stroke them and wish they wanted to stroke me the same way that the love story of my life did..
I also decided to move to Palm Springs which made my friends mostly roar with laughter that I wanted to hang out with old people in a sandy desert. The houses there are incredible and such a good deal and actually some of the grooviest people in the land hang out there.
I also got the most incredible front cover of my life in Hollywood Weekly which is a glossy magazine in the same vein as Hello.
Altogether my week was good I awoke up to find condoms and broken eggs on my front door and some forks. I thought wrongly that there was some spooky magic going on which my neighbour, who tends to look mad did for me, but actually I have the man on my security footage that Richard Basch had fitted. I had a bet with my housekeeper and I should have listened to her as I lost 100 dollars. Nobody gets away with much these days. The man was clearly enjoying himself at my expense, I was left with bills of at least 1,000 dollars as he left his heavenly fluids in the rubbers. Felony is frowned upon in these streets. He should have gone to the sperm bank, it was such a waste. He was a reasonable looking considering his trade. Incidentally it is illegal to leave bodily waste at houses that do not belong to you in Southern California. His images are now famous throughout the land and his identity will be known soon enough.
I went to the opening of the Bel Air Film Festival walking the red carpet with other talented professionals for my film The gun the cake and the butterfly. This time on my own without Justine Glenton. It feels funny without my wonderful other half. Eventually though you have to part company and start leading normal lives again. I hate normality it is for whimps, I am exhausting company at the best of times.
The parties here, consist of Getty images and a red carpet and several babes with a microphone doing interviews. Forget placement and delicious food. I wore quite incorrectly a jacket from Yogi Yamamoto, when I should have worn a slinky sparkly long dress number showing plenty of back at 7pm. It is not fashion but the sort of dress that makes me feel sick.
Girls with perfect makeup stood before me and I felt proud to be at my sixth festival with the brilliant Freedman's and Xaque Gruber. I am very grateful to the festivals for encouraging my writing and directing. A year ago I never thought I would be in this position.
My house is for sale, because I want old age crawling over me in Palm Springs and to return to my home in London. I can stay here with my best pal Mumma Kay. Splitting my time here is becoming so exciting with never a dull moment..
Fashion still interests me and Genlux Magazine are now starting a live show, so I should be busier than ever..
I also decided to move to Palm Springs which made my friends mostly roar with laughter that I wanted to hang out with old people in a sandy desert. The houses there are incredible and such a good deal and actually some of the grooviest people in the land hang out there.
I also got the most incredible front cover of my life in Hollywood Weekly which is a glossy magazine in the same vein as Hello.
Altogether my week was good I awoke up to find condoms and broken eggs on my front door and some forks. I thought wrongly that there was some spooky magic going on which my neighbour, who tends to look mad did for me, but actually I have the man on my security footage that Richard Basch had fitted. I had a bet with my housekeeper and I should have listened to her as I lost 100 dollars. Nobody gets away with much these days. The man was clearly enjoying himself at my expense, I was left with bills of at least 1,000 dollars as he left his heavenly fluids in the rubbers. Felony is frowned upon in these streets. He should have gone to the sperm bank, it was such a waste. He was a reasonable looking considering his trade. Incidentally it is illegal to leave bodily waste at houses that do not belong to you in Southern California. His images are now famous throughout the land and his identity will be known soon enough.
 |
| VANDAL PLACING CONDOM. |
I went to the opening of the Bel Air Film Festival walking the red carpet with other talented professionals for my film The gun the cake and the butterfly. This time on my own without Justine Glenton. It feels funny without my wonderful other half. Eventually though you have to part company and start leading normal lives again. I hate normality it is for whimps, I am exhausting company at the best of times.
The parties here, consist of Getty images and a red carpet and several babes with a microphone doing interviews. Forget placement and delicious food. I wore quite incorrectly a jacket from Yogi Yamamoto, when I should have worn a slinky sparkly long dress number showing plenty of back at 7pm. It is not fashion but the sort of dress that makes me feel sick.
Girls with perfect makeup stood before me and I felt proud to be at my sixth festival with the brilliant Freedman's and Xaque Gruber. I am very grateful to the festivals for encouraging my writing and directing. A year ago I never thought I would be in this position.
My house is for sale, because I want old age crawling over me in Palm Springs and to return to my home in London. I can stay here with my best pal Mumma Kay. Splitting my time here is becoming so exciting with never a dull moment..
Fashion still interests me and Genlux Magazine are now starting a live show, so I should be busier than ever..
Wednesday 9 October 2013
FILM FESTIVAL BEL AIR AND LA FEMME
With the week end drawing nearer in Los Angeles I am excited to be a part of the Bel Air Film Festival.
On Saturday 12th they are showing my film The gun the cake and the butterfly at UCLA. At 4.30 pm. As regular readers will no doubt know it has been doing well on the Festival circuit. It is then to shown at LA Femme on the 17th October at 10am. This is the trailer
I do hope you will have the opportunity to come and see it.
LA Weekly and Sean Borg have kindly written a very good article about the film. My friends have been incredibly supportive and here in Los Angeles they have been most welcoming.
I am moving yet again, it is the sagittarius in me, I have it in my moon, and I am extremely unsettling to be around. I am never happier than signing for a new house or selling an old house. It is so exciting. I have many friends with the same sign in their moon and they are the same.
Stephen Webster gave a fabulous party last night, the travel mogul and jeweller. Of course I love his work and I am always asked where I find such unusual rings.
On Saturday 12th they are showing my film The gun the cake and the butterfly at UCLA. At 4.30 pm. As regular readers will no doubt know it has been doing well on the Festival circuit. It is then to shown at LA Femme on the 17th October at 10am. This is the trailer
I do hope you will have the opportunity to come and see it.
LA Weekly and Sean Borg have kindly written a very good article about the film. My friends have been incredibly supportive and here in Los Angeles they have been most welcoming.
I am moving yet again, it is the sagittarius in me, I have it in my moon, and I am extremely unsettling to be around. I am never happier than signing for a new house or selling an old house. It is so exciting. I have many friends with the same sign in their moon and they are the same.
Stephen Webster gave a fabulous party last night, the travel mogul and jeweller. Of course I love his work and I am always asked where I find such unusual rings.
Saturday 5 October 2013
THE WINGS OF MR WYNN ARE AS NEAR PARADISE AS YOU CAN FIND.
Have you noticed that romance now is a yes on the like button on Facebook and Intagram. The height of romance is sending a rose on your facebook page and receiving a smilie instead of any written note? I don't like the iPhone, I am the only one in the world who hates that smile face, I would kill for a written letter.
I decided this week that I should visit Las Vegas, the last place on the planet I wanted to go to. I always imagine it to be like eating Coco pops and swigging glasses of beer. But this City is as happy as the Celebrity Centre, The Scientologist's dream. I like both and I am surprised.
We are all finished as human beings, but thank goodness for one thing The Wynn Hotel in Las Vegas, where the staff have a degree in Politeness. As you enter, there are weddings happening on every floor as well as gambling. As we know, it is Roulette as you walk the aisle. They go hand in hand.. I like the golden side of this place, and the doorman here, look as if they are guarding the gateway to heaven. In any case this hotel is as near to heaven as anyone can get on this avaricious earth.
Bach and Handel play from the sound system, as you enter the room with
Mr Wynn's smouldering voice seducing you into eating the most mouth watering dishes from his many restaurants. In fact this place is better than eating chocolate cake on your own in London, this is paradise with acrobats pleasing your every visual whim.
La Reve is the show which cost a million dollars, actually that looks a bargain. This is theatre which dreams are made of, all explained in the hosts dulcet tones. If only the National Theatre in London could come and see this. 90 minutes of exhilarating movement provoking thought and deep pleasure.
This planet of Wynn's is simply there to amuse and seduce. I never buy face cream, and yesterday I was persuaded into parting with 352 dollars for facial cream that I have never heard of but I am assured, when using it, that I look twenty years younger. I bought double the dosage.
The swimming pool darkens at precisely 3.30pm everyday, in time for a game of black jack, before the nightly show. I understand now why my friend, Andrea fell in love with this very viable man, Mr Wynn is more regal than the Pope. He does a good Elvis impersonation too.
I visited a hotel The Golden Nugget downtown where sharks swim with their human counterparts. You slip down a shoot into the mouths of the awaiting whale. So clever. Roulette is played in swimsuits, and tattoos are the norm.
I shall start visiting the places on the planet I most dreaded, I was wrong about Las Vegas, I could be wrong about Roseville, New Mexico where I shall look for aliens and ufo's.
I decided this week that I should visit Las Vegas, the last place on the planet I wanted to go to. I always imagine it to be like eating Coco pops and swigging glasses of beer. But this City is as happy as the Celebrity Centre, The Scientologist's dream. I like both and I am surprised.
We are all finished as human beings, but thank goodness for one thing The Wynn Hotel in Las Vegas, where the staff have a degree in Politeness. As you enter, there are weddings happening on every floor as well as gambling. As we know, it is Roulette as you walk the aisle. They go hand in hand.. I like the golden side of this place, and the doorman here, look as if they are guarding the gateway to heaven. In any case this hotel is as near to heaven as anyone can get on this avaricious earth.
Bach and Handel play from the sound system, as you enter the room with
Mr Wynn's smouldering voice seducing you into eating the most mouth watering dishes from his many restaurants. In fact this place is better than eating chocolate cake on your own in London, this is paradise with acrobats pleasing your every visual whim.
La Reve is the show which cost a million dollars, actually that looks a bargain. This is theatre which dreams are made of, all explained in the hosts dulcet tones. If only the National Theatre in London could come and see this. 90 minutes of exhilarating movement provoking thought and deep pleasure.
This planet of Wynn's is simply there to amuse and seduce. I never buy face cream, and yesterday I was persuaded into parting with 352 dollars for facial cream that I have never heard of but I am assured, when using it, that I look twenty years younger. I bought double the dosage.
The swimming pool darkens at precisely 3.30pm everyday, in time for a game of black jack, before the nightly show. I understand now why my friend, Andrea fell in love with this very viable man, Mr Wynn is more regal than the Pope. He does a good Elvis impersonation too.
I visited a hotel The Golden Nugget downtown where sharks swim with their human counterparts. You slip down a shoot into the mouths of the awaiting whale. So clever. Roulette is played in swimsuits, and tattoos are the norm.
I shall start visiting the places on the planet I most dreaded, I was wrong about Las Vegas, I could be wrong about Roseville, New Mexico where I shall look for aliens and ufo's.
Tuesday 1 October 2013
SWINGFULLY YOURS
The sun wakes me early in Los Angeles and I rush out of bed to do Yoga on my mat which I leave out all the time incase I feel energetic.
Yesterday I went to Nobu in Malibu and fell in love with the ocean for the first time. The house was rustic, down to earth and I felt at home playing with dogs. There were bikes too, a Ducati. It was a day for laughter. All the blondes were smiling with perfect teeth. I was happy.
On my fantasy list, and if there were more hours in a day, I would love to ride bikes, big bikes. In my dreams at night I imagine riding an MV Agusto?. Two weeks ago I loved a black shiny Harley Davidson. I am thinking more and more about living in the country and whether it would be social suicide or sociable paradise. A Ducati or a Moto guzzi?
I just need green more and more. London feels squashed and overflowing with people, and although you can go to the theatre and concerts every night, there is a need to hear an owl say good night.
With wonderful friends in Los Angeles I had the opportunity to hear the great Jazz musician Loston Harris last night do wonderful American numbers. From the Carlyle Hotel in New York he played and sang with incredible heartfelt integrity leaving me emotionally satiated. There is something so touching listening to people work and perform with passion. As Loston's fingers touched the piano I knew the soul of this man.
Performing from the Whisper Lounge in Los Angeles where the food was delicious and the acoustics perfect, I was lucky to have a enthralling and tranquil Sunday evening.
Yesterday I went to Nobu in Malibu and fell in love with the ocean for the first time. The house was rustic, down to earth and I felt at home playing with dogs. There were bikes too, a Ducati. It was a day for laughter. All the blondes were smiling with perfect teeth. I was happy.
On my fantasy list, and if there were more hours in a day, I would love to ride bikes, big bikes. In my dreams at night I imagine riding an MV Agusto?. Two weeks ago I loved a black shiny Harley Davidson. I am thinking more and more about living in the country and whether it would be social suicide or sociable paradise. A Ducati or a Moto guzzi?
I just need green more and more. London feels squashed and overflowing with people, and although you can go to the theatre and concerts every night, there is a need to hear an owl say good night.
With wonderful friends in Los Angeles I had the opportunity to hear the great Jazz musician Loston Harris last night do wonderful American numbers. From the Carlyle Hotel in New York he played and sang with incredible heartfelt integrity leaving me emotionally satiated. There is something so touching listening to people work and perform with passion. As Loston's fingers touched the piano I knew the soul of this man.
Performing from the Whisper Lounge in Los Angeles where the food was delicious and the acoustics perfect, I was lucky to have a enthralling and tranquil Sunday evening.
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