This week The Hon and I headed off to Warminster for a family Lunch to celebrate my Aunt’s 94th birthday. Recovering from the scourge of cellulitis, this extraordinarily adroit, cogent, witty English woman is the last surviving Kneesup Aunt. She had organised coronation chicken and salads and asparagus wrapped in smoked salmon, new potatoes, puds,…
British Grand Prix
This next month will prove crucial to the future of racing
I suppose one might describe this past week as better than expected. In cellar terms, not a filthy glugging week, but more a robust cru bourgeois week. A bit of tennis, a drinks party, a soupcon of American cousins, some musical theatre, a brace of jolly (and free) dinners, and a visit from my travelling…