The wheels on the bus...

On Friday evening I spoke at a dinner in Cambridge, for the Connections Bus Project. This charity sends a double-decker bus round from village to village acting as a drop-in youth centre for young people from secondary school age upwards. The bus is staffed by at least three youth workers, and offers young people the opportunity to learn IT, take part in quizzes, crafts, or even karaoke. On average, 20-30 children come to the bus during a four hour period, and such is its popularity that they are considering a second bus. It's amazing how many good and honourable charities, supported by thoroughly decent people, are slaving away every day of the week. This lot can rightly be proud of their results.

Talking rugby

It was fun to see so many old friends at the Access Sport dinner which supports young children in their chosen activity. Chris Beetles was unable to make the occasion, something to do with some team called Tottenham, who don't appear to have a manager or a team at the present time, but his place as assistant auctioneer was taken for the evening by the former Olympic silver medalist, Alan Pascoe. We raised £37,500 for the charity, and the highlight was an interview with Josh Lewsey, England World Cup winner and finalist, who answered all the questions about Brian Ashton with as much diplomacy as he could muster. However, it now seems to have all broken out on the front pages of the sports sections, and it will be fascinating to see what decision Rob Andrew makes about the future of the England rugby coaching set-up.

Save the Pygmy Hog!

Another charity event last night, for the Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust, for one of their special projects, the pygmy hog. The guest of honour was the charity's Patron, HRH The Princess Royal. In her speech, she pointed out that the pygmy hog might not be an obvious choice for charitable funds, but if we don't care about these lesser known spieces, we'll lose them all, along with others such as the polar bear and the tiger. We raised £45,500 for the Trust, and as I did an auction for the blue iguana last year, I can only wonder which animal they'll come up with next year. The highlight was a brilliant talk by Jack Hanna, the American conservationist who has devoted his whole life to saving endangered species, and who was able to announce that in certain cases, thanks to the Durrell Trust, their numbers had actually gone up in the past two years (the Blue Iguana being one of them).

Off to another auction tonight, for Access Sport, which is three in a row this week. What must it be like to be an actor working every night under the spotlight, because I woke at ten past eight this morning, absolutely exhuasted. I woner what Patrick Stewart feels like after six evening performances and two matinees playing Macbeth - I'd be amazed if he gets up before lunch.

Must stop, my big Poppy has just arrived, and we will be attaching it to the side of the building tomorrow.

Going, going, gone...

The auction for Will Greenwood at the Dorchester on Tuesday night was attended by Lawrence Dallaglio, Andy Gomarsall, Mike Catt, Michael Lynagh, and Jason Leonard, to name but a few, and the one shock for me came in the Q&A session (perhaps you're better informed tham I am) where it was clear that several members of the current England team do not want Brian Ashton to continue as coach. It appears that after the 36-0 defeat by South Africa, they were so distressed by the lack of direction, that they damn nearly took over the reigns themselves, or at least that was the impression three of the veterans gave, and which was repeated in the Daily Telegraph today. I also read in today's Telegraph that Alan Jones, who coached Australia 20 years ago, is being considered to take over the national team once again. God help us. Some of us remember that when he brought his Australian team over to England, he beat everything in sight - England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales and the Barbarians. Perhaps Rob Andrew should be on the phone to him, and certainly put him on the short list.

The auction raised £100,000 for Tommy's, and one of the most popular items of the evening was a dinner with Martin Johnson and Phil Vickery, for 10 people, which went for £12,000.

Roll Cameras

Had a meeting earlier this week with the film director, Bruce Beresford (whose film, Driving Miss Daisy, won an Oscar) about my screenplay, Mallory - Walking off the Map. There were two other very exciting people present at the meeting, but I'm unable to tell you who they are as an announcement will be made in the near future. Mind you, after putting my toe into the film- world water, I'll believe it when I see it.

Saturday night

One of the problems of agreeing to do auctions is that charities very kindly invite you to take on the responsibility some 6 months before the event. I agreed to do the auction for the Simone Cowland Trust at the Dorchester on Saturday night, completely unaware that England would be in the World Cup final. Luckily, the auction didn't start until 10.30pm, so I was able to watch the game with my son who lives a couple of miles away. England did so well, but frankly South Africa were the better side on the night. I shot off to the Dorchester, where the auction raised £107,000, thanks in part to the intervention of an Irishman, who decided it was his responsibility to run around the room chivvying up the bidders. I kept fining him for daring to interrupt my auction, and he ended up paying £7,000 - for which he received nothing - before the evening was out. The Irish are not only witty and well read, but they are also incredibly generous. He made the evening, and I wish I could wheel him round my other auctions - of which I have three this week: one for Will Greenwood tomorrow, one on Wednesday for the Durrel Wildlife Conservation Trust, and on Thursday for Access Sport. I will keep you informed.

Lord Wilson's wit

Mary and I attended a dinner at Emmanuel College, Cambridge where the guest of honour and speaker was the Master, Lord Wilson - the former Cabinet Secretary. He made a brilliantly witty and irreverant speech, allowing us an insight into what it's like to be the cabinet secretary. He spoke of his time under three prime ministers, Thatcher, Major and Blair, and although he was fairly guarded when asked questions, it became clear that Alastair Campbell was not on his Christmas card list. The dinner was in aid of The Sick Children's Trust and there was a £5 raffle, drawn by Lord Wilson following the meal. I've mentioned this before, but we must be the only country on earth who think that £5 raffles are a clever way of raising money.

The Affordable Art Fair

I attended a charity preview (for ActionSpace) of the Affordable Art Fair in Battersea Park. The exhibitors are not allowed to charge more than £3,000 for any of the works on show, and there were some very good pictures - sadly, of course, the best all get snapped up on the first day. The winner was unquestionably the sculptor Katy Poett who is beginning to gain a big reputation, and her prices are still ridiculously low. She's such a modest person, I suspect it will be some time before she works out just how talented she is. She now has so many commissions that it is almost impossible for her to put on a display, but if you ever see one, grab it, because they are a tenth of the price of the cheapest item at the Frieze. The fair goes on until Sunday night, and if you're in London, I thoroughly recommend it.

Remembering friends

I've attended two memorial services in two days - and they could not have had more in contrast. Nigel Dempster's was held at St Bride's Church, Fleet Street, and was packed with journalists and friends from the fourth estate. The following day, Mary and I attended Lord Renton's memorial service at St Margaret's Church, Westminster, attended by people from the first, second and third estate. John Major's address at the latter (he succeeded David Renton as MP for Huntingdon) was a study in how these things should be done, because he not only captured a little of the 99 year old's remarkable life, but his sense of fun and kindness right to the end. This church was also packed - an incredible achievement, remembering that not one of his contempories was sitting there to honour his life. If he'd died at seventy, they would have had to take Westminster Abbey.

Changes at the Top

I went to Richard Charkin's hastily organised leaving party at Macmillan, and it was among the worst parties I've attended in many years - a group of people standing around with beer in their hands, and the music so loud it was impossible to hold a conversation. I shall miss Richard - one of the cleverest men in publishing, and an intensely loyal man, in good times and bad. No fair-weather friend he. I wish him the best of luck in his new job at Bloomsbury.

Happy Birthday Alan

Lots of things all happening at once. On Saturday, I watched Cambridge play Blackheath - we lost 24-32, doing our usual trick of giving the other side a 15 point lead in the first 15 minutes, and then trying to catch up. Mind you, whoever thought the day would come when Cambridge would play Blackheath? Their chairman, Barry Nealon, is a generous host, modest in victory, and gracious in defeat - yes, we beat them last year.

On Saturday evening, Mary and I joined friends to celebrate Alan Pascoe's 60th birthday. Alan has been a friend since running days, and it's hard to think of him as 60. A magnificent party - medalists all around, Seb Coe, David Hemery, Mike Parker, etc, and a few old hacks like myself. Because of the rugby, he had two large tv screens, one at each of the marquee, in order that we could watch England defeat France (but with no sound). Although I'm doing an auction this Saturday evening, the organisers have sensibly scheduled it at 10.15 pm so that fans like myself can watch the final during the dinner. By the way, we can't beat South Africa because they're so much better than we are ... but then so were Australia, and so were France. I therefore look forward to the South Africans being sent home as losing finalists.

Theatre Night

Mary and I went to the National Theatre on Friday to see Present Laughter, with Alex Jennings taking the lead - the role that Noel Coward wrote for himself. Mr Jennings has been one of the National's leads for many years, but is almost unknown compared to minor film stars with a tenth of his talent. The play was great fun, and although dated, you laugh almost as much at the morals of the day, as you do at the witty lines of Noel Coward. Recommended.

Catch up ...

Sorry not to have done a post for a few days, but it's been a hectic week; having handed in to my publishers the final manuscript for A Prisoner Of Birth, I've had an auction, a charity lunch, a rugby match, a theatre visit, two memorial services, a trip to Majorca to look at some land and numerous other meetings.

To begin at the beginning. On Thursday last week I hosted a lunch for 30 here at the apartment on behalf of Marie Curie Cancer Care, to support my dear friends Bill and Kate Cotton. Sir William was of course Director General of the BBC, and must be anxious at the turmoil the corporation is in at the present time - mind you, if he was, he didn't mention it. The purpose of the lunch was to bring together like-minded people to hear about the work Marie Curie does. The charity provides free nursing care to cancer patients and those with other terminal illnesses in their own homes. What patience and dedication these amazing nurses must need to carry out that particular vocation.

That evening I boarded the Silver Sturgeon to conduct an auction for the Royal London Society for the Blind. October 11 was World Sight Day, and the evening began with a 'Flight for Sight' on the British Airways London Eye. Of course, the thing about being on a boat is that you're trapped, but on this occasion I didn't mind as I was trapped with charming and dedicated people. They were raising money for a new sensory machine to allow blind children to experience the feel, smell and touch of things that we all take so much for granted, such as the wind and waves. The auction raised £25,000 which will pay for one of these machines.

The Emperor's new clothes ...

Mary and I went to the Long Room at Lord's yesterday, to celebrate Ian Botham's knighthood. I've known Ian for 35 years, and have seen him go from a rough lad in Yeovil, to the finest all-round cricketer this nation has produced, to one of the most dedicated fundraisers that I've ever come across - some man. Many of my schoolboy heroes were there, including Douglas Insole, Trevor Bailey and no doubt many ghosts who would have been invited. Mike Brealey made a speech in Ian's honour, and Ian told his guests that the Queen did not discuss the state of English cricket with him, but the work he does for Leukaemia Research. David Graveney looked relieved and proud that England had, for the first time in 20 years, won the first one-day series in an Asian country, but was clearly apprehensive about whether the ECB would retain him as chairman of the Test Selectors; I hope they do, he's utterly dedicated to the job - one that is so easy for people to criticise when they don't have to make the real decisions themselves.

Mary and I had to leave at 6pm, when the party was still in full swing, to go on to the Frieze Modern Art Fair which is getting so much publicity this week. Having been a collector for some 40 years, I was fascinated to find out more about this new world that I have, to date, been avoiding. I was a guest of Deutsche Bank, whose hospitality is always second to none, and therefore I do not wish to sound discourteous when I say that I've never seen such a load of rubbish in my whole life. Charging £72,000 for a frame containing two egg boxes shows either that some people are without any taste at all, or that I'm missing something because I'm so old and out of touch. I wouldn't have swapped anything that I saw last night for the magnificent Eric Gill I purchased a month ago. I'm sure there are those who will say I haven't got a clue. In a panic, I rang that doyen of art critics, Brian Sewell, to ask if I should return and take a second look because I surely must have missed something. "Don't go back, Jeffrey," he said, "it will only encourage them."

Training troubles and rugby greats

9.30 a.m is my gym session with my Australian trainer, Dani. She took revenge. This is going to be a bad week, because on Wednesdays I am trained by a New Zealander, Jacqui - and if anything, she's even more vicious. Then on Friday, it's Dani again. I hope I'll be in a fit state to give you a blog next week.

I went to the Cafe Royal last night to do the auction for the National Sporting Club at their World Cup Captains' Dinner. The charity to benefit from the £50,000 raised was the Burned Children's Club, which gives support to young burn survivors and their families. The highlight of the evening was an interview conducted by Ian Robertson, the BBC's rugby correspondent, of the 5 previous winning world cup captains: the unhappy and distressed David Kirk (New Zealand), the unhappy and distressed Nick Farr-Jones (Australia), the we're still alive and kicking Francois Pienaar (South Africa), the equally distressed and fed up John Eales (Australia), and the looking rather pleased with himself Martin Johnson (England). The panel were of course asked who would reach the final. The general consensus was that it would be France v South Africa. At the Jason Leonard dinner a couple of weeks ago, Jason, Jeremy Guscott, Will Greenwood and the aforesaid Pienaar, were in agreement that it would be France v New Zealand. So much for experts.

One of the auction items I sold, for £11,000, was the six finals' programmes - five of them signed by the winning captains, and indeed all six will be framed after the final, by which time Mr Phil Vickery will have added his name to the list.

Mourning Down Under

On Saturday, having watched England win against Australia, a match they thoroughly deserved to win, I went merrily on my way to Peterborough to do an auction for Sue Ryder Care at Thorpe Hall. While trying to slip in and out of the room to watch France play New Zealand, I managed the first half, then was called in to do the auction. I told the assembled gathering that New Zealand were 13-3 up at half time, and it looked to me very one-sided. When I stepped off the podium, £15,000 later, I was greeted with the words, France beat New Zealand 20-18. I refused to be a sucker twice in one week, so I burst out laughing - only to see it confirmed on the tv a moment later. So that's the good news. The difficult news is that on Saturday, when England play France in Paris at 8pm, I will be attending Alan Pascoe's 60th birthday party, and I bet he didn't anticipate us being in the semi-final. I wonder how he'll handle it?

Sculptors and Actors

I attended the Art London Fair at the Royal Hospital Chelsea on Friday. Lots of fun - I particularly liked an artist called David Gerstein, an Israeli who's come up with a lovely idea for a sculpture, two of which I intend to put on the wall of my gym (image of Long Distance Runners courtesy of The Catto Gallery).

I also picked up a good bargain from Frost and Reed - their very shrewd director, Giles Baker Smith , saw me coming at 100 paces and skillfully guided me towards the piece knowing he'd got a sucker - such men should be shot. I also liked Michael Speller's sculpture, Secure, (pictured) which I'm thinking of putting in the garden. It was good to see the show so well attended.
In the evening, Mary and I went to the Cambridge Arts Theatre to see the student production of Cymbeline performed by the Marlowe Society, and directed by Trevor Nunn, and remembering that I'd seen Patrick Stewart's Macbeth only a few days before, Mary and I agreed that if it wasn't much good, we'd leave quietly at the interval. It was outstanding, and I suspect several of the undergraduates will be heard of again in the future. Indeed, there was a picture in the programme of Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Derek Jacobi from their Cambridge days, and I wondered if I would live long enough to see one of the cast honoured in the same way. I thought about naming one or two of them, but I am bound to say it's a play of many parts, and I didn't spot a weak one among them.

We was robbed

What a relief to see England beat Tonga quite comfortably, at least allowing us to believe we have an outside chance of beating Australia on Saturday. I felt disappointment for the Irish, who are always everybody's second team, when they lost to Argentina (fair and square) and were sent packing back to Dublin. I've been fascinated to read over the past few days how losers in rugby, football, and cricket, should be strung up or shot - Roman Abramovich (Chelsea), Paul Collingwood (England), Martin Jol (Spurs), Eddie O'Sullivan (Ireland) - hasn't someone worked out that if there is a winner, there has to be a loser - not everyone can go home with the cup, and each national side or club side can only field the best people they've got, and one assumes those people do the best they can. Unfortunately, we live in an age where instant results are demanded, and instant punishment handed out. If that had applied in the past, Alf Ramsey would never have taken England to the World Cup, Denis Compton would have been dropped from the England cricket team, and C B Fry would probably have never got on the field.

A strange incident happened at Cambridge rugby club at the weekend. We were playing Redruth at home, and leading 30 nil at half time - in a match I assumed we'd win by 50 or 60, when the Redruth players refused to come back out onto the pitch. It appears that some of the players' valuables had sadly been stolen from the dressing room - I don't know the full details. Our chairman, Jerry Otter, assured them that any loss would be repaid in full. The Cambridge team and the referee appeared on the pitch for the second half, and the referee instructed the Redruth team to join them. They refused. Whether we gain our points, or have to replay the match, will be decided by the RFU. That shouldn't be too difficult a decision for them to make.

A new broom

My chairman Richard Charkin rang me yesterday - and I assumed to talk about A Prisoner of Birth as it had just arrived on his desk - to tell me that he was resigning from Macmillan and would be joining Bloomsbury as Executive Director. Richard is one of the finest men I have dealt with in publishing. He remained utterly loyal during my trials and tribulations, and left no-one in any doubt that he published the Prison Diaries as he felt they were an important contribution to the present debate (his words). The fact that Prison Diary I went on to top the bestsellers list proved his point. I shall miss his wise counsel and good company.