DIARY OF A NOTTING HILL NOBODY
MONDAY Everyone in a panic about our Greek taverna line. Am starting to wish I never mentioned it. DD keeps ringing up to tell Gids about big game hunting. ‘I know, I know,’ I told him. ‘You’d better be sure you kill with the first shot, etc.’ Sometimes the old ones are the best. Sometimes, however, they are just tedious. To make matters worse, we’re run off our feet because Nigel is being rested. It was the only compassionate option after he went funny at conference and rampaged around the press room screaming obscenities at journalists, which even Gary said was taking media management a bit too far. So he’s on GWB leave, pending a full assessment by Sherwood, our lifestyle guru — who’s just done a course in ‘Mid-Term Paranoia as Exhibited by Opposition Spin Doctors’. What good timing is that!
TUESDAY Strange dreams last night about the Lord of Darkness. He was wearing a cloak and had fangs like Dracula. He swept through my bedroom window, bit me on the neck, stole my piggy bank then galloped away on Sesame. Things not much better when I woke up. Daddy moaning about his HBOS shares over breakfast and talking with a not v nice look on his face about the cost of horse feed again. Tried to go for an early morning ride but it was hopeless. The pheasant situation is totally out of control. No one coming from the City to shoot, so the darn things are running amok. Can barely ride in a straight line for them flying out of hedges and making poor Sesame bolt!
This is a v worrying effect of the banking crisis which I haven’t seen any coverage of in the papers. May have to write a memo. In the meantime, am thinking of having a go with Mummy’s air rifle. After all, it’s food going to waste when we should all be practising thrift.
WEDNESDAY Mervyn on the phone again. Told him Gids doesn’t want to speak because he keeps getting the blame for the FTSE crashing. Mervyn said not to be so silly and to put him on the line immediately. I’m afraid I had to take quite a stern tone. Jed couldn’t have been any clearer in his email from California. Our number one priority right now is not to let Gordon and Mandy pin the blame on us for the collapse of the entire world economy.
Took a pop with the air gun this evening and managed to shoot a squirrel. But Mummy refused to have anything to do with it. Said she wasn’t Heston Blumenthal.
THURSDAY Strange phone call from Bev at Labour — wants to meet up tonight. Sounded urgent. Told her we still didn’t have a safe Tory seat for someone of her Body Mass Index but she said it wasn’t about that. Then added: ‘Quite the reverse.’ What can she mean?
Am just back from top secret meeting. Can’t say too much yet. But if this were to turn out to be an astounding offer to become Head of Ambience Management at Downing Street, then it would not be something to be snorted at — now would it? Indeed not. It would be a huge salary increase and, as Peter might or might not have pointed out to me in his Special Cubicle, could mean the difference between keeping Sesame in the manner to which she has become accustomed and ‘you know, something absolutely horrible happening to her, quite frankly. It’s a no-brainer.’ Everyone must make tough decisions at this difficult time.
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