Last week on one of those sweltering evenings, I went to an opening at my friend Rebecca Hossacks Gallery in Conway Street. It is the most beautiful still white gallery space, over three floors. Coloured light bulbs are twisted around the railings of the outdoor fire escape, very New York, very festive. I drank sparkling burgundy, (because Germaine Greer was given the last glass of champagne) which sounds hideous, but was in fact reasonably good. I felt light-headed and graceful in my silk Henrietta Bevan dress.
Greer was there to open the exhibition of Jean Baptiste Apuntimi, Tapalinga, an Aboriginal artist. Lovely Rebecca introduced us and told her about, The Seven Year Itch, my “book out now.” She stared through me, like a man who is dismissive of women and their silly books. Later we got stuck in front of her as she launched into a speech about the Aborginal people. She told us how she’d travelled miles to meet one and how he just hadn’t turned up, because as she put it, he had better things to do. A rather creepy man stood next to me and gave a muttered running commentary on the proceedings. He looked like a gatecrasher.
We had dinner in an Italian restaurant in the Worlds End afterwards. An amazing musician came to our table. He was unnervingly good – and my mouth literally fell open as he did trick after trick. He changed a pack of cards that my husband was holding into a brick of glass without any of us knowing how he did it. Later Luke said he felt nothing untoward happening in his hand. He also got Luke to scribble his signature on a card, then shuffled it into the pack and it later appeared folded up under Luke’s watch strap. Catch him if you can before he becomes mega, Daniel Alexander, 07930 560 638. www.charismagic.com What a man. He is a genius. Mention the woman with her mouth open last Thursday at Frantoia.