Those fickle skinners

Yesterday evening was fun. I went to eat at La Porchetta on Old Compton Street with Nathan. Dreadful food. Absolute crap. When I asked Nathan what his anaemic-looking sludge tasted like, he simply replied; “it will keep me alive”. At the same point I was wondering if my tomato salad was going to kill me. At one stage, the waitress asked if I wanted a drink and I said; “do you have any lemonade?” which rather surreally was met with the response; “Germany?” Nathan was angry with me for simply staring at the woman, blinking disbelievingly, but I have to confess she'd rather flawed me... and I'm not often lost for words.


It wasn’t me who got drunk at Soho House but by 11 o’clock when I went home, rather a lot of red wine had been consumed by the others, baring Helen, who like me was on the cranberry juice. We discussed the rather annoying problem of being an impoverished, vegetarian, non-drinker when some meat-eating, wealthy alcoholic says “shall we just split the bill?” Helen once drank tap-water and ate a plate of pasta worth £8.95 and was stung for £40. I went to a surprise birthday party about 4 years ago and ate a plate of vegetables and a trifle. It set me back £90 and to make matters worse, the bloke who'd ordered all the hideously expensive bottles of wine, left early and threw £50 on the table, uttering those words we all dread at communal meals; “that should cover it...” Having seen how the bill was standing at 11pm last night, I’m very concerned for those I left behind... and not just for their wallets. Red wine seems to give people strangely blackened teeth, which is no good if you're searching, looking for love (as Hazell Dean would say)

Tonight another Dorothy will leave the BBC reality show. Like last week, she will exit the studio draped on a giant moon and disappear into the roof singing Over The Rainbow. It would be every drag queen’s dream to leave a stage like that, but seems a tiny bit lost on those stage school brats! I have to say, if I was going to get kicked off a reality show, I could think of no better way to go than by hanging off a big glittering moon singing one of the most beautiful songs ever written. I'm sure I'll gret bored of the formula, but I can't wait to see that particular coup de theatre tonight...

The winds were high on this day 350 years ago and the Nazeby was swaying like a one-heeled, drunken slapper. Pepys seemed much calmer about the prospect this time, and even commented on the scandalous behaviour of a "gentleman" at dinner who'd had to “rise” (one assumes) to vomit out of a nearby window. I'd say he was showing a great deal of respect for his fellow diners. Perhaps Pepys never experienced a face-full of someone else's vom.

Letters arrived from London and amongst them were two from Elizabeth. Pepys didn’t say what she’d written, but he seemed more than a little pleased or perhaps relieved to receive them. Another letter brought the news that Londoners were now ready to welcome King Charles II to the capital  with open arms. The Skinner’s company, for example, had recently entertained General Monck, with the King’s Crest hanging on their hall wall where once the Parliament’s Coat of Arms were proudly displayed. A fickle lot, those skinners.

Later in the day Pepys played his violin, this time in the company of the ship’s chaplain, Mr Ibbott and one Lieutenant Lambert, who has now gone down in history as the first of only two people that Pepys in his lifetime told of the existence of his diary.

“I staid the lieutenant late, shewing him my manner of keeping a journal”

...Bet he was relieved the fiddle playing had stopped!