The Edifice Is Crumbling! SO LET'S GO TO A BALL

Last night was a late one at Wigtown. The drive-home was pea-soupish. This morning, at the dentist, Upper Right Molar 6 was extracted, at length, from my mouth. At 1.30pm today I received a phone call from my boss asking me where I was. Yes, I had actually missed a meeting. This has not, to the best of my memory, ever happened before.

There is, of course, only one remedy. Willow's Annual Ball! I may be there a little late, but I'll make it before midnight and I'm quite sure there will be dancing till dawn. And a karaoke marquee at the back of the garden if I'm lucky...

You will find the gang all here: http://willowmanor.blogspot.com/

My Escort will be this man.

I have long asserted that Stewart Granger is the most handsome man to have ever lived, ever, so you can imagine my delight when, in 2009, the Institut de L'Homme Adorable et Plus Fort in Geneva scientifically proved that this was the case.

Even better, Stewart has agreed to wear that Scaramouche costume. You know, the one with the tights.

Transport, obviously, is a done deal. I shall be picking Mr Granger up in my Chrysler. And I'm driving all the way.

To wear? For a serious night out there is, in my opinion, only one material that will withstand all that is required of it. Leather. So I have selected this laser-cut leather dress by Toni Maticevski, a Melbourne-based designer of Macedonian extraction. And yes, with those shoes.

I shall be doing my own make-up, as in truth only I can do my own make-up, but luckily my hair stylist, David at The Rainbow Room in Glasgow, was available for a late-night consultation.

It took me three years in Scotland to find someone who could cut my hair, for there are very few hairdressers who do not like to create a style. My hair has no style; it is the same length all over. You would be amazed how difficult it is to find someone who can cut long hair one length, and it seems to be a skill, like hedge-laying, that is fast disappearing. For the record, David is 6' 5'' tall, very slim, always wears a suit and looks exactly like Beck, if Beck were 6' 5'' tall, slightly slimmer and 15 years older. With grey hair.

My hairdresser. Kind of.

David also only ever talks about very fast motorcycles, his exploits on very fast motorcycles in Europe, and very fast cars. And his children sometimes. All this is just a bonus; basically, he's a shit-hot hairdresser.

And the look we decided upon? Below.

A perfect match for the dress, and also rather neatly referencing Stewart's starring role as Allan Quartermain in King Solomon's Mines. The good version (1950).

As gifts to my hostess, the fabulous Willow, I shall be taking Scottish poetry books by Hugh McMillan and Rachel Fox. And Marion McCready if she hurries up and gets it out tonight.

So bring on the Gin and Tonics (Gordon's and Schweppes, tumbler full of ice, and lemon, not lime)(where did that bizarre idea start?), for I'm ready to party.

I'm dancing till dawn, unless there is a karaoke marquee, in which case I'll be singing till dawn. And you won't get the microphone off me.

Looking forward to seeing you there...

Much Later

Back home now and relaxing with a copy of Ocean Magazine. And Dolphin Magazine. They're great! And they're here: http://www.oceanmagazine.org/