Dear gorgeous readers,
You find me coughing and wheezing on my bed, wallowing in self-pity and surrounded by a veritable mountain of 3-ply tissues. However, I simply cannot tolerate boredom and am keeping myself amused in an appropriate manner.
I am re-reading Tolstoy's rather weighty Anna Karenina with greedy relish and it is every bit as superb as I remembered it. What a mind he possessed! I last read it at Eton in my pimply youth and, thankfully, remembered little of it in detail. I also have James Sherwood's latest tome, The Perfect Gentleman. It's sexy and glossy and is cheering me up no end!
As I am confined to my bedroom, I have also had the chance to go through my wardrobe with a fine tooth comb. I've just sent a pile of clothes over to my tailors for minor repairs and alterations. Although I do have a rather nice dressing room, I still keep a traditional wardrobe in the bedroom itself. It's a family piece and was made with staggering craftsmanship in Gdansk in Poland about 200 years ago. Walk-in wardobes are rather soulless in comparison.
My antique wardobe is reserved for my bespoke clothes according to the current season. The heavy cloths suggest an age of elegance, intrigue and adventure. 18oz grey flannel, heavy black barathea, tweed check jackets in wonderful hues, beige speckled Donegal, odd vests in tartan, Tattersall check and boxcloth. Butter-soft heavy camel wool trousers, a Harris tweed hacking jacket, double-breasted chalkstripes, an Inverness cape and my piece de resistance: a 23oz mid-grey herringbone overcoat with a Russian sable-fur shawl collar.
If I were a pauper, I would still find a way to fill my wardrobe with cheaper clothes that had nice fabrics and colours. Tracksuits, sweashirts, nylon coats and cotton hoodies are depressingly dull and unnecessary. People show little imagination in their dress these days. Budget does not come into it!
I was just back from France last week (my love/hate relationship with the frogs continues) and was walking along Piccadilly when I saw the magnificent sight of our soldiers in full ceremonial dress collecting donations ahead of Remembrance Sunday. Believe it or not, I have never seen a Welsh Guardsman in scarlet tunic and Bearskin hat up close! There were also Scottish soldiers in full highland regalia and various other soldiers beautifully kitted out, shaking their collection tins. Well, I had absolutely no cash at all about my person and I have never been so mortified in my life! I felt so ungrateful and hung my head in abject shame. I have made my contributions since but it still stings just thinking about it! I do hope you are also doing your bit?
Be good.
More anon
The Duke of Snarlborough
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