Heavenly jockeys, splitting trousers and plenty of Pinot Grigio – Imogen Lycett Green enjoys a breathless lunch in the Cotswolds with Jilly Cooper
Two hours earlier she had rushed, panting, into the Crown Inn in Frampton Mansell. ‘I am SO SORRY I am late!’ she said, falling into the fire-smoky bar wearing leggings, knee-length brown boots, a white shirt and a belt that looks like a piece of horse tack. Sexy is the only word for it. Her instantly recognisable helmet/halo of thick grey hair frames her round, rosy-cheeked face. She is wearing a silver brooch of a galloping racehorse.
‘How are you?’ she says to the young barman. ‘I’m good,’ he replies. Jilly is thrilled. ‘I love the way the younger generation say I’m good. It’s such a misnomer. I’m sure you’ll be behaving badly the minute you get home.’
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