A perfect Sunday lunch with old friends: the wonderful Merle Ginsberg and Orian Williams… producer of Anton Corbijn‘s Control at The Chateau Marmont.
Followed by a walk up Abbot Kinny with Tristam Summers.
Categories
Tag: Sunday
Great weekend in Malibu. Loads going on.
Therapy Saturday. Lunch with filmy people. Another lunch with Gabe and Toby in Venice.
Met two very sweet Redondo boys in coffee shop.
Writer arrived at 1pm. Twins came home on Sunday as I am working with writer. Both of them had a great night in Hollywood. They got so drunk and sick and in trouble but separately. They lay down looking worse for wear.
The writer left. I vacuumed the house.
Miami Henry popped over. Made dinner for the four of us. Twins surprised that I made the salad dressing.
Henry left after dinner. Bed at midnight.
Nothing more to report. I have been writing like a crazy person.
I am thinking of checking into rehab. Seriously. I can’t go on like this.
Whitstable life.
Actress Fay Ripley has moved into the house opposite my old place. Saw her today in the most elegant shearling coat and big glasses. Celebrities stalk my home town…jabbering away loudly on mobile phones.
Even the little houses beyond the High Street that I never thought would be interesting to London people are now 300k and never on the market for longer than a few weeks.
Recession? Where is it?
I am still really pleased I sold both my houses.
I never really liked the Peter Cushing house (number 3 Seaway Cottages) it was large and draughty and I think I must have been to the beach maybe twice in 13 years. The beach was the front garden..but I am not a beach man.
I really loved the other house (number 2 Seaway Cottages), the house next door that I renovated from scratch. It looked superb by the time I finished with it.
I poked my nose through the door yesterday and the Anthony Gormley coat pegs are still in place. The rather beautiful kitchen lamps have been replaced by ugly, modern, cheap looking, brushed aluminum sconces. Everything else is just as I left it. The fig tree in the garden has been severely pruned as it should be.
I had an unfortunate incident on Sunday night. Went to see my friend Cathy for dinner but she was so drunk I turned on my heels and left the house.
Last night, through a genuine blizzard, walked to an NA meeting. I looked like a snow man when I got there. Expecting the worst (crack addicts) but instead met with a group of sober people with surprisingly good, modern recovery.
It was great.
Sometimes I think that NA has more to do with SAA than AA. The Step work and traditions of NA as written in the Green and Gold Book have really appropriate text for addicts of any kind sex/drugs/drink.
I had lots to write about the past couple of days but…the memories escape me right now.
Long walks with the little dog around the golf course. Tea with Georgina and family. Sunday lunch time went to the Monument Pub and ate roast pork with crackling. Entertained myself with the Monument Football Team who are all, every single one..to a man…GORGEOUS.
Ate home-made pate today for lunch with Carol before she crawled into her workshop…you know she’s a potter? A ceramicist?
Back in LA Ashley tells me that the waterfall that thunders under the Malibu house drive is thundering nicely. By the time I get back the garden will be a jungle. I was worried that the new road would be washed away. I bloody hope not.
The sun’s gone dim,
The moon’s turned black,
For I loved him,
He didn’t love back.
21/12/09 – 21/12/10 Adieu my darling.