Ooh, before I forget. EB, after commenting on your blog, I started watching TV and spotted a teenager with a certain haircut. So here I rise to the challenge: I am so glad that last year's distended mohawks are now out of fashion!
Now about confessions, the guiltiest I felt for a long time was after throwing a pen out of a moving train. There was a group of us taking the train from Paris to Mont St-Michel. Don't know why, but our teacher had to fill out a form - and - don't know why, but between a teacher and 5 girls, we hadn't a pen between us. Close to the end of the journey, we'd had too much fun - our teacher (a female, please note) kept giving us wedgies and we'd tied her shoelaces together a few times. So we were as good as drunk.
Came to a bend in the track and the pen, dropped in the middle of the fracas, rolled out from under the seat. It was truly nasty and dusty and wrapped in cobwebs. I picked it up, exclaimed, and flung it out of the window! Everyone stopped in their tracks with eyes wide as saucers: "Olivia!" (This is because I never do stupid things like that.)
I laughed saying, "But it was yucky!".
When the poor conductor came to collect the forms and the pen, there was a moment of hesitation as he waited for it and then realised he wasn't going to get it back. THEN I felt bad.
But in the afternoon the sun came out. I called my Daddy in Houston to sing Happy Birthday, and he was so lovely on the phone. After that, the rest of my day was more cheerful.
1) The lady behind the sandwich counter at Fortnum's knows me from when Christie's Edu was next to the auction house.
2) The guy who runs the Murano glass stall at St James's weekly arts market also remembers me.
3) I spotted a girl I'd known from Christie's crossing the road at Jermyn Street. I'm never good at calling across traffic at people who look busy, so I didn't bother.
I've forgotten all the things I wanted to discuss with you before yesterday's diversions, but it's late now so I will just provide you with the last installment of Blackadder.
Blackadder Goes ForthBlackadder:
Your brain, for example, is so minute, Baldrick, that if a hungry cannibal cracked your head open, there wouldn't be enough inside to cover a small water biscuit.
This is going to be art's greatest moment since Mona Lisa sat down & told Leonardo da Vinci she was in a slightly odd mood.
Get me a chisel & some marble, will you, Baldrick?
Oh, you taking up sculpture now, sir?
No, I thought I'd get my headstone done.
What are you going to put on it?
'Here lies Edmund Blackadder, & he's bloody annoyed.'
If we do happen to step on a mine, Sir, what do we do ?
As far as I can tell, you're guilty as a puppy sitting next to a pile of pooh.
…………………….George: 'My head... oh, my head... feels like the time I was initiated into the Silly Buggers Society at
So, we're a bit stuck.
You can say that again, George. We're in the stickiest situation since Sticky the Stick Insect got stuck on a sticky bun!
They've [the Russians] abandoned the Eastern Front.
And they've overthrown Nicholas the Second, who used to be bizarre.
He used to be the Czar, Baldrick.
However, the Teutonic reputation for brutality is well-founded. Their operas last three or four days. They have no word for 'fluffy.'
Sir, is there something the matter?
You're damned right there's something the matter! Something sinister & something grotesque. And what's worse is that it's going on under my very nose!
Sir, your moustache is lovely!
Forgot this excerpt from Blackadder The Third:
How Baldric will pretend to behead the King and then help him escape.
The king must wear a pumpkin head -- one with eyes, nose, moustache and beard painted on, and a wig placed on top.
I will balance it on the King's head, like this. Then, I will cover his real head with a cloak, and then, when I execute him, instead of cutting off his real head, I will cut off the pumpkin, and the King survives!
I'm not sure it's going to work, Balders.
Because, once you cut it off, you have to hold it up in front of the crowd and say, "This is the head of a traitor," at which point, they will shout back, "No it's not; it's large pumpkin with a pathetic moustache drawn on it."
I suppose it's not one hundred percent convincing.
It's not one percent convincing, Baldrick. However, I'm a busy man, and I can't be bothered to punch you at the moment.
Here is my fist. Kindly run towards it as fast as you can.