Diary

What is up with the once superb Blue Guide that it fails to so much as mention beautiful Qinghai province, up in China’s northwest? Xining, Qinghai province, China What is up with the once superb Blue Guide that it fails to so much as mention beautiful Qinghai province, up in China’s northwest? Here a lively mix of minorities make up 46 per cent of the population. Tibetans and Muslim Hui are the most prominent, alongside a sprinkling of Kazakhs and Mongols. At Xining, Ta’er Si (Kumbum) is one of the largest and most important (Tibetan Yellow Hat) Buddhist sites. Labrang, on the grasslands bordering Gansu, another. The exquisite Qutan mon-astery in Ledu county yet another.

Monday I can’t take much more of this. Even Daddy says I need a holiday and our family motto is ‘Don’t Make a Fuss’ (it sounds better in Latin). It’s just unbearable, non-stop horridness. Every time we think we’ve got on top of it another Dipwig (Deeply Irrelevant Person With Grudge) comes crawling out of the woodwork to have a go at poor Dave. I wouldn’t mind but they’re all complete losers. At least DD has come out fighting for us. He’s on a major military discipline metaphor high. He addressed the morning strategy meeting and it was really exciting. Lot of talk about something called the Maginot Line and a v interesting slide show entitled ‘From Static Defence to Penetrating Counter-offensive’. He was quite masterful.

I miss Issie. I am waiting outside in the Orangerie in the Parc de St-Cloud, in Paris, where the Chanel show is about to begin. The incessant driving rain, the clouds, thick, and black with purpose, as another deluge begins. The huge white bright spotlights shining undiminished give a silvery magnificence to the scene. The team of Karl Lagerfeld and Chanel, undefeated by the elements, succeed in staging one of the best couture shows I have seen, and I have seen quite a few. Contrary to what one might expect, the rain heightens the senses and gives it a poetic surrealism. Showtime. The moment the first model exits to explosive music and flashbulbs, the runway has become a stream in the gravel. No one can do drama like Karl, and this is a drama.

Hong Kong It is very good to be back. So good that I can ignore the horror of the summer weather. The humidity suffocates and is only relieved by sudden and violent downpours. But these are minor irritations in a city that is back to its best. The economy booms and the shops and restaurants are full. I watched a pro-democracy march and was reminded of the glorious fractiousness of the Hong Kongers. No power on earth should pick an argument with them. It is a passionate nature which can occasionally find expression in unfortunate ways. Take the case of Mr Kwok who finds himself very nearly eyeless in Kowloon. Six years ago Kwok was set upon by his girlfriend Ms Po who in the midst of a romantic tiff tried to gouge out his left eye with her finger. As a result he lost the sight of the eye.

Washington High tea with George Bush in the Oval Office. Polite but tough questioning on my book. He tells me how much he’s enjoyed reading it. Next stop, the wonderfully counter-counter-cultural bowling alley with Dick Cheney, flanked by Francis Fukuyama, author of The End of History. They tell me how much they’ve enjoyed my book. Paris Croque monsieur for 70 at the Elysée Palace with Nicolas Sarkozy. Nico tells me he’s only just put down my book. I tell him how much I’m enjoying his presidency. We part amicably. Afghanistan To the Tora Bora caves for mint tea with Bin Laden, author of 9/11, then off kite-flying with his deputy Ayman al-Zawahiri. They tell me they take issue with my thesis but have greatly enjoyed my book.

Monday Horrid, horrid. It’s all election war footing and aggression and shouting round here. Jed has decided we are ‘too nice’. Says he is going to toughen us up and turn us into ‘attack dogs’. (Am prepared to do almost anything for Dave. But the concept of turning me and the girls into dogs, ‘attack’ or otherwise, is — well — just not very nice). Our lifestyle guru Sherwood has been sent on decorating leave, the positive energy murals have been taken down, Die Hard With a Vengeance is playing on a loop on the TV monitors and the Tranquillity Room is being used for kickboxing. Suzie from Events says it’s almost as bad as when Lynton was around. The Great C.

Monday A day of high drama. Heart-stopping parliamentary meeting at which Dave put the party on stand-by for an election in October... THIS October! Ordered everyone to start digging for dirt on Gordon. This would mean certain political death for those supplying the dirt when the Great Clunking Fist found out. Nevertheless it was our solemn duty. The GCF Unit is being headed by Mr Grayling. He was standing in the corner with a face as white as a sheet. With all the excitement it was clearly no wonder I got confused and told the driver to take Dave to Tottenham instead of Tooting. We were half way across London before someone pointed out that we hadn’t crossed the river yet.

Monday Disaster. Dave’s big policy announcement on illegal logging totally ruined by rogue spelling error and I’m to blame. Can’t believe I could be so stupid as to add a letter ‘b’ by mistake. Nigel says I must have done it on purpose. Jed says my ‘Inner Moderniser’ did it subliminally. Either way we now have a v. draconian policy on illegal blogging which is going to cause all sorts of upset to the men who live in the chatrooms. That nice Mr Dale sits up half the night deleting swear words as it is. Hope no one tells them it was me who came up with new regime of fines and imprisonment. They might start calling me names. I don’t mind myself but I have to think of Mummy.

MONDAY I wish everyone would just calm down. It’s like the inside of Mr Willetts’s smaller brain (the one he used for grammar schools) around here. Don’t see why everyone is hysterical just because we are getting a new Director of Comms. So Gary’s from Essex and used to be a tabloid newspaper editor. It doesn’t mean he won’t be Caring and Compassionate. He’s going to have the office next to Jed’s —it was a big stipulation of his contract that they have almost equal billing but Jed says ‘almost equal’ is a very specific term. Lot of funny-looking crates being piled up in there, most of them marked ‘Specialist Equipment: Do Not Touch’ and ‘Group 4 Surveillance Products’.

MONDAY Jed away for three weeks on horseback safari in Botswana and nobody knows who’s in charge. Nigel says it’s The Three Georges, Poppy reckons it’s Mr Maude, Wonky Tom says we ought to ring Sam — she’s bound to know what to do (‘All right, my darlin’, getcha notebook out...’). We will have to muddle on. Tom and I are doing a Grammar Schools Rebels stock-take — we estimate it’s 98 per cent of MPs and peers, including all of front bench, plus entire voluntary party. Personally, I feel this is going to make it difficult to draw a line under things by sacking Mr Brady. Last thing Jed said before he boarded flight to Gaborone was ‘Get me a list of the traitors!