Clive James – laughing and loving

Clive James was a recurring presence in last weekend’s literary press. There was, I regret to say, a valedictory feel to the coverage. Robert McCrum, of the Guardian, was not so much suggestive as openly morbid: ‘If word of his death has been exaggerated, there’s no question, on meeting him, that he’s into injury time, with a nagging cough that punctuates our conversation.’ If those words and others like them made little impact on the reader, then the photograph of James that illustrates McCrum’s interview might. Old age looks no fun; serious illness even less so.

But, James’ spirit does not seem to have been shaken by the indignities visited upon his flesh. His latest TV column in the Telegraph bristles with verve and cheek:

‘I read somewhere that before the appearance of the Rolling Stones at Glastonbury (BBC Two), Mick Jagger, between a 10-hour session on the treadmill and a ballet class, had been dipped upside down in a giant pot of caviar, thus to preserve the fresh bloom of his skin.