My Yahoo!

Reading the books pages of this mornings Observer, I see that some ghastly woman has published yet another book about poor old Ted and Sylvia. Why Ted was hounded pillar to post, just because two of his wives committed suicide, I will never know. I had a run-in with Sylvia; trust me, she was a lovely girl, but as mad as a tree.
I had to go and see 'Sylvia' the film, really just because the same company are making a film about my marriage to Noreen, known to every one in Soho as Mimsy. Our film is to be called 'Hilary and Mimsy', and is being shot largely in Torquay, God knows why. I wouldn't mind if they got one of these young actresses to play Mimsy, because then I could watch the nude scenes and crack a last one off, in the dear old girls memory.
Reading the review, I was reminded of Ted's devotion to 'The White Goddess', and this reminded me in turn of the time Mimsy and I visited the Graves menage in Majorca, some time back in the early 1970's. Robert was on top form, and took us to an bodega, where we ate paella and drank sangria from long-stemmed jugs, while a flamenco dancer stamped along to the most marvellous guitar music. Mimsy bought a straw wine bottle holder in the shape of a donkey, which she was very proud of. I haven't had occasion to revisit Majorca since, but I don't doubt that this authentic Spanish culture has been swept aside in the unholy name of tourism.