Spectator Life

One thing you can be sure of on a visit to Japan is that the service will be at the very least good, and quite often superb. The chances of being short-changed, snubbed, or slighted are virtually zero and truly bad service is so rare I almost, after 24 years in Tokyo, crave it now and again to break the monotony. ‘The customer is God’ as the Japanese say, and sometimes this exhortation to staff feels like only a slight exaggeration. I once witnessed a sad scene where an old lady tried to engage the cashier in a supermarket in casual conversation At its best, Japanese service can be glorious to behold. I once saw a customer drop money from her purse in the crowded food hall of Isetan (Japan’s version of Harrods). At the first tinkle of the coins, staff leapt into action.

Since becoming a mother, I have come to dread weddings. Children are often no longer welcome at nuptials. My children have been banned from several already, and we have attended several others where they might as well have been, so inhospitable were they to young families. I find it indescribably depressing and utterly baffling that small children would be unwelcome at such a momentous family celebration. The concept seems to contradict the very purpose of a wedding – to bring two families together for the creation of another. Perhaps as a result of the decline of religion, weddings are no longer for families – they are essentially very, very expensive dance parties for the couple’s young social group.

In bedrooms across the country, women are wearing £145 sexy silk chemises emblazoned with jewels spelling out the words ‘Ban Space Travel’. This isn’t just a bit tacky or part of a new kink. It’s a sign of growing cynicism around space exploration. (Another item in the same collection, sold by luxury underwear company Bluebella, casually calls for ‘world peace,’ as though the two issues are akin.) Bluebella’s CEO Emily Bendell says the garment, designed by Ashish Gupta, is a ‘cultural statement’. ‘With so many problems here on earth, we have to hold billionaires focused on space exploration to account,’ she says. It is unclear exactly how much holding to account exactly lace-trimmed camisoles can do. But this movement goes far beyond the bedroom.

Two hours into a muddy hike through Rwanda’s Nyungwe rainforest and though I’ve been barked at by a baboon, crossed rivers of fire ants and stepped over a foot-long centipede, I have yet to see any chimpanzees, which is the reason I’m here.  My guide and our team of trackers are on the path ahead, armed with machetes, rifles and a walkie talkie. We’re looking for an alpha male called Kuyu. His morning calls echo in the distance and my guide tells me we’re not far from him. I hope he’s right. I am covered in Mosquito repellent clothing, I’m hot, tired and my enthusiasm is waning.  ‘Look up,’ says my guide, and he gestures at a dark shadow that glides across the tree canopy above. We’ve found them!

Tom Brady must get bored easily. After America’s superstar quarterback retired (for a second time) in March, he invested in a Las Vegas women’s basketball team, sorted out his divorce, bought a racing boat team with Rafael Nadal and, this summer, became a minority owner of Birmingham City. A few weeks ago, it was announced that he’d had a meaningful chat with Wayne Rooney, the club’s new manager. ‘It’s important for the players to see Tom Brady have an involvement. It’s very clear that Tom is fully involved in the club’ said Rooney, clearly aware that fans might be sceptical. Brady is just one of several American celebrities who have invested in British football over the past few years.

Sometimes a small purchase gives an outsize amount of pleasure. I have felt this recently with a particularly robust pair of replacement boot laces and an especially bobbly, Italianate lemon. But most satisfying amongst all these small pleasures has been a lighter. Specifically, a Dunhill Rollagas lighter from eBay. Clearly an object of the 1960s, they are about £1,000 when new. This is far too much for me. However, they retail second hand for between roughly £25 and £200. Of course, even £25 is obviously a great deal for a lighter. But, for this investment, you receive a fantastically luxurious object. The pleasure is very like that which I imagine comes with a classic car. It has art deco lines, being made of only two shapes: a cylinder set in a rectangle.

I suppose it was going to happen. But not inevitably. After 66 years behind the wheel, I’ve finally gotten a speeding ticket. In France. During those years, I’ve put the pedal to the metal in an Alfa Romeo (Spider Veloce with Weber carburetors), a zippy MG (my mother’s), a 375HP Corvette Stingray (my first husband’s), occasionally an e-type belonging to a friend and a swanky but stodgy Mercedes. A French camera finally caught up with me as I was ripping up a Burgundian country road from Nolay to Autun, going 105 kph in a 90 kph zone in my new (to me) Mini Cooper. My grandchildren have begun to love ‘Puddle’ as much as (or more than) they love me.

I like the Art Deco apartment block where I live; the building is beautiful and the neighbours are nice. Just one thing; they keep having their old kitchens torn out and new ones installed – two of the three nearest flats to me have done this in the space of six months.  I don’t complain about the noise as I’ve been a very noisy neighbour in my time, but this architectural fetish has made me realise how out of step I am with the national psyche. For I would no sooner have a new kitchen installed than have a minaret erected atop of my building. My flat has its original tiny galley kitchen; like many of the swanky 1930s apartment buildings in Brighton & Hove, it once had a restaurant in the basement – Marine Gate along the seafront even had its own off-licence.

The jumps season is well under way and I am delighted to be tipping chasers and hurdlers again for the first time in six months. I particularly enjoy backing course specialists over the Grand National fences at Aintree and so the Boylesport Grand Sefton Handicap Chase is just up my street. In last year’s contest only 14 horses lined up for the race which was won by Al Dancer. Sam Thomas’s gelding is, according to his handler, unlikely to defend his crown but the two horses closest to him that day, Gesskille and Percussion, are likely to take part in the race. Geskille is favourite in most books for this two miles and five furlongs contest and he will have every chance if running to his best form last season.