|
Wednesday,
6th August:Today I depart for London via Eurostar. It is a quiet quick
trip. Read all the way. It's strange to arrive in St-Pancras. Find a taxi
and soon arrive at 166 Gloucester Terrace. A warm welcome from Ernie Eban.
Suggest we go and have a pizza, but learn that Pizza Express is no longer
there. It is now a North African restaurant.
Ernie and
I spend a funny evening. First we go to Chelsea to visit a friend of his.
Her name is Charlotte. We are urged to sit down and join them for dinner.
One of her friends is Carinthia West. When she hears my name, she tells
everyone that she had a secret crush on me in the 60s. Ernie tells me
that she was a great beauty in the 60s. In fact, she is still lovely.
In one sense, Ernie and I have wandered into The Importance of Being
Ernest. A very silly dinner. But Charlotte is very sweet. Her mother
is Lady Bracknell. Then we visit Beatriz Belfrage's home in the Fulham
Road. I meet her mum, Candida, and B's sister, Ixta. Beatriz is still
in Brazil. Mary Clemmey gives us a ride home and when we get to Ernie's,
I realize that I left my red jacket there. Ernie departs to sleep at his
sister's and leaves me in the flat.
Thursday,
7th: Up at 8. Putter about. Dorota Chrisp calls, but I fail to reach
the phone on time. Call her back. We agree to meet at the Polish Cultural
Centre near her office in Chiswick for lunch. Go down to the Spanish café
for breakfast. On the way there purchase The Guardian and The
New Yorker. Sit outside and have a half English breakfast: one egg,
toast, coffee, hash browns, ham, sausage. A couple comes and sits next
to me. They have just arrived from Australia and cannot get into their
hotel room until 14.00 hours - almost five hours from now. Read a review
of the new Woody Allen movie, Vicky Cristina Barcelona in The
New Yorker. Back to Ernie's. Leave a note for him. Go out and wonder
which bus to catch. A sudden heavy rain. Allow two buses to go by and
for reasons I do not know, get on the third. Bingo. It goes to Chiswick.
I arrive before Dorota. Find a table in the window and order a hot chocolate
until she arrives. We both have very filling bowls of soup. Then we order
something else. Very silly of us. She and Tim are off to Crete for a holiday.
They met there almost twenty years ago. Their wonderful daughter, Lila,
will go with them, but Joe, their son, will stay in London. So if I need
a place to stay when I come down from Edinburgh, I am welcome to the guest
bedroom. Take the bus back to Ernie's. He is there and we start making
calls for tonight's annual Khan's Indian take-away dinner. In the end
we are about a dozen. Men are Ernie, Mark Petrushkin, Jim Campbell, Alex
Kan, Tom Hope and yours truly. Women are Mary Clemmey, Jeannette Petrushkin,
Emma Hope, Ksenia Nova and Ksenia's friend, Juliette. It's another fun
evening. Mary Clemmey is a hero for driving to Candida"s home and collecting
my red jacket that I left there last night. Mary even gives me a book,
Man Is Wolf to Man - Surviving Stalin's Gulag by Janusz Bardach.
Ernie goes again to his sister's and leaves me his bed. What a host!
Friday,
8th: Up at 7.45. I slowly shave and dress. Go out and find a taxi.
The driver is a Francophile. He loves Paris. Give him the Chicago Tribune
article and invite him to dine when he next travels to Paris. The ticket
fellow advises me to run for the next train departing for Newcastle and
get the Flying Scotsman when it passes through Newcastle. I dash to platform
4 and manage to make it with seconds to spare. The ticket attendant inside
the train advises me to get out at York and to pick up the Flying Scotsman
there. Not sure of her reasons but do as she suggests. Get a call on my
mobile from John Calder who says he missed the dinner last night because
he failed to check his messages. He will be coming up to Edinburgh on
Sunday. Get a call from Hercules Bellville who says he is home in bed
with a bad cold. He, too, is sorry not being with us last night. He further
advises my sitting on the right side of the train to get the best views.
This leads to a discussion of POSH and its etymology. I reply "portside
out starboard home" home before he can tell me. This requires my
asking Hercules if he knows the etymology of wow. He doesn't and I tell
him that it is from a West African language meaning "yes". He
is not impressed. I promise to call him when I pass back through London
the end of the month.
We pull
into York and I get out and walk across the platform. Ask a young student
if she is waiting for the train to Edinburgh and she is. Telephone rings
again and it is Jim Campbell. He says he enjoyed last night's dinner but
he forgot to contribute anything towards it. Not a problem I retort. It
was my pleasure to treat everyone. I ask him if he knows a bookshop that
might have his new collection of essays, Syncopations, published
by the University of California Press. He tells me to give him my address
in Edinburgh and he will send me a copy. (And he does!) The Flying Scotsman
approaches. Once on board, discover it is packed. But manage to find a
seat. Ride in comfort all the way to Waverley Station. Oh Edinburgh, I
love you!
Find a taxi
and am delivered to 84 Great King Street. Manage it get my bag up to the
second floor and ring Martin's bell. And no one is home. Leave the bag
in front of the door and walk to Patisserie Florentine in Circus Place.
Have a hot chocolate and ponder what to do. Decide to walk to Theatre
Workshop and see if Ruth Holloway might be there. She is! After we have
embraced and she has welcomed me to Edinburgh, she gives me her key. She
tells me that Martin is cooking dinner for us.
When I get
back to the apartment, my bag is inside my room. And Martin is in the
kitchen busy preparing dinner for Ruth, Dougie, me, himself. He greets
me and apologizes for not being home when I arrived. No problem. Soon
Ruth is with us and we are feasting. Dougie, who is from Edinburgh, but
living now in Australia. He is staying here at Martin's for a few days
more and then flies home. Martin is a great cook and seems to enjoy the
act of cooking. He announces that he and Ruth are going to a vernissage
of painting, jewellery, sculptures, textiles tonight and would we like
to join them. Yes, we would.
And after
dinner we drive down to Coburg House in Leith to an old building that
houses dozens of small rooms all filled with attractive young men and
women and their creative endeavors. One of the first people I encounter
is Gavin Wolfe-Murray with a tray of drinks in his hands. I tell him I
have just arrived in Edinburgh and ask him about his mother, Stephanie
Wolfe-Murray. She is still living in the country about an hour South of
Edinburgh. I give him my mobile number and ask him to pass it to Stephanie.
We go from room to room. Lots of very talented individuals. I especially
like Stephanie Rew and Dylan Lisle's paintings.
Wander up
to the Assembly Rooms and am able to talk my way into the Club Bar. See
Karel Beer. He runs a comedy club in Paris. See Abdel Bari Atwan standing
at the bar alone and invite him to join me. We have never met, but I find
his contributions to the BBC World Service Dateline, London TV programme
extremely provocative. He sits at our table and we talk and talk. He is
warm and extremely interesting. He will be speaking in the Book Festival
Sunday at 12.30. I give him the Chicago Tribune article and invite
him to come and dine when he is next in Paris. John Ritchie and his beautiful
wife, Catriona, join us. Tim Cornwell, a journalist at the Scotsman
and a neighbor of Sheila Colvin's, invites me to a reception at the Scottish
Arts Club tomorrow afternoon Bari has a ticket for Best of the Fest in
the Music Room at midnight. I am tired, but go inside nevertheless. Four
stand-up comedians. A classic way to begin the Festival.
|
|
Saturday,
9th: The Book Festival starts today at 10.00 with Ian Rankin interviewing
a mystery guest from the world of politics. One part of me wants to go,
but I am sure it is sold out and I probably cannot get a ticket. (Later
I learn it is Gordon Brown, the Prime Minister.) Head up to Hanover Street
and purchase a bus pass. Change euros into pounds at Marks & Spencer.
Go to the
Scottish Arts Club in the afternoon. Tim Cornwell has invited a lot of
people to attend a reception. It's a superb gathering. Tim is making information
available about a project in Zambia. It is a three year project, in its
first year, aims to benefit 15,400 people in 20 communities and 10 schools.
By 2010 the project should have improved the health of some 46,000 people
by providing clean drinking water and school latrines. Toby Gough brings
many performers from his various shows in St. George's West, especially
the entire cast of Hemingway's Havana. The musicians play and the
dancers dance. One extremely beautiful dancer beckons me to dance with
her and I cannot say no. I meet them all thanks to Toby. It is very nice
to meet and to talk with Valerie Hemingway, Ernest Hemingway's secretary
and daughter-in-law. I promise them all that I will attend their show.
This evening
the Book Festival's opening party. Once again I have not been invited
and I attend with some hesitation. Do not go into the Spiegeltent, but
stay outside in the garden. See lots of people I know including Jamie
Byng and Elizabeth Sheinkman, David Graham and Kristy Gunn, Bill Campbell,
Faith Liddell and Amy Saunders, Bob Flynn, Leslie Hills, Kath Mainland,
James Mackintosh and so many more. Of course Claudia Monteiro and Frances
Sutton. When I leave Charlotte Square, find myself walking next to Kath,
whose family name I cannot remember, and her fellow. In the softly falling
rain. She used to be Barbara Grigor's assistant. Her fellow says he interviewed
me for a BBC-TV programme some years ago. They are going to Heriot Row.
Hail a taxi and offer to drop them, but they say they prefer to walk.
I go home to Great King Street.
|