Life is hectic in London and as usual culturally exciting. With an incredible concert by Shostakovich and Verdi at the Guildhall School of Music on Monday, dinner with Nicky Haslam on Tuesday at the Colbert in Sloane Square, and Wednesday, the British Film Institute to watch a private viewing of the Woolf of Wall Street. It is a feast that never gets exhausted. I am also editing a little of the film again, just tiny moments that will make it run smoother. Yesterday I met the artist Howard Morgan, for me portrait artists still hold the magic brush. He told me he would paint me with a pale background laughing, fingers crossed. Then I had some photographs of Charles, Justine and I done, for Hello Magazine, which have hopefully turned out rather well. John Swannell, the photographer was charming company. We are about to enter the year of The Wooden Horse. I am ready to be dominated and charmed.
On another note be careful wives and girlfriends. Have you noticed there is a new type of girl,"une fille de poule"?, The 'gallery girl' in the art world. It is full of women, with semi ordinary degrees, pretending to be clever? They are nearly sexy, with good address books and a willingness to sell their bodies, in the nicest possible way of course. They will do deals for a sale of a painting, getting upgrades on aeroplanes, or seats on private jets. These girls are available for almost anything. Most art galleries are now dangerous to the "ring holder" so beware the long legged girl, with glasses, slightly scruffy, from some semi important long lost family, in some far away place in the nether regions of Europe, that leaves messages on your husbands telephone.
Yesterday it was confirmed to me that Lulu's, in Hertford Street, was the best club in the world, all the richest men in one spot.
I do not want to be part of any club.