New York
A letter from an English couple, who are long-time friends of mine, arrived, thanking me for lending them my London flat. (They live in America.) ‘We also managed to fit in a wedding near Oxford and a long private chat with the Queen at Windsor…who, in contrast to the incumbent at the White House, drove herself (in a nice ordinary Jaguar) to church and drinks with us without a sign of security. Just a lady sitting next to her in a dark-blue suit. It is possible the slight bulge in her skirt covered a weapon, but there wasn’t a sign of the boys in blue anywhere. Amazing — quite like the old days.’
Just as I finished the letter, I read how Two Jags John Prescott, the world’s stupidest-looking Cabinet minister, had been intimidated last year by a gang of youths in hooded tops who tried to ambush him in a motorway service station.
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