Back down to earth with a bump

Last night I spoke to the Medical Physical Student Society based at St Thomas' Hospital, which was attended by 23 people. I was touched that both the President, Professor Burnand, and two of his colleagues sat amongst the students, but I couldn't resist telling them that at my last talk (in Chennai) there were 1,500 people. "Oh," said the President with a large grin, "one of the reasons there aren't many here is that all the notices had to be removed from the hospital under new health and safety regulations." Something to do with the danger of blu-tack or drawing pins maybe - he couldn't decide which. Not a problem for the Indians.

A Great Dealer

Yesterday I attended a memorial service for Andras Kalman at the Westminster Synagogue. Andras is famous for having discovered, nurtured and made L S Lowry one of the most famous and successful artists of the last century. Over the years I purchased 5 Lowry's from his gallery, the finest being Jetty at Knott End near Fleetwood. I wish I'd taken Andras's advice and bought Ben Nicholson at the same time, but however much he tried to convince me that Nicholson was going to be a shrewd investment, I just didn't like them enough - which I've always considered to be the ultimate test when purchasing a new piece of art. The service was well-attended with friends from the world of art, tennis and of course his beloved Hungary, from where he escaped the tyranny of first the Germans and then the Russians. I shall always remember Andras telling me to buy Sutherland, Nicholson and Ernst, and I suspect that the majority of people who attended the service have several paintings and sculptures in their possession that have added to the pleasure of their lives, but not as much as knowing the man himself.

On Wednesday evening I went to see Marguerite at the Theatre Royal, which bore a great resemblance in style to Les Miserables - not surprising as it was written by the same team. An enjoyable evening, but I agree with Mr Billington of The Guardian that it's very hard to feel sorry for someone who collaborated with the Germans while they occupied Paris, so when she dies at the end, you're hardly weeping. The piece deserves to succeed - not least because of Ruthie Henshall's outstanding performance and wonderful voice (and any red-bloodied male in the audience will fall in love with her) - but I have a feeling it will close soon after Christmas.

A week of 10s

A Prisoner of Birth is No.1 in India for the 10th week in a row, No.1 on the UK Audio list for the 10th week, and will be No.10 on the Sunday Times list this weekend, and I thought you'd be fascinated to know that it's No.10 on the Walagoomy Gazette in South Australia.

Question of the day

971 emails were awaiting me when I arrived back in the UK- the vast majority of them from India, and I must say that having been teased about calling Mumbai, Bombay, could someone please explain to me why they've changed the name of that city? And indeed Madras to Chennai? But it seems that Calcutta is still to be Calcutta - which I am much looking forward to visiting next year when I shall be opening Landmark's new bookstore.

That's Liza with a zee

On Tuesday evening, I went to see Liza Minnelli at the London Coliseum. The last time I saw Ms Minnelli was at the Albert Hall in concert with Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr which was arguably one of the greatest nights of entertainment I have ever attended. Everyone knows what Ms Minnelli has been through in the past 15 years, but it still didn't stop her delivering a bravado performance. Her rendition of New York, New York, Cabaret and The Girl That Got Away, would have impressed her legendary mother. She received six standing ovations during the evening, but it should be pointed out that the audience was rightly full of worshippers. As I was leaving the theatre, I overheard someone say, "I suppose that's the last time we'll see her in London." Let's hope not.

Back down to earth

In Pune, a thousand people were waiting for me at the bookstore which made another long drive worthwhile. The signing session went on for more than 2 hours so I didn't get to bed until after midnight. The next morning I visited Osho Ashram where people come to meditate. The 28 acre site is an oasis in a jungle of people, but I confess, although they could not have been kinder to me, I was glad to return to the real world. I was later taken into town to visit Jayesh, a silversmith (his store is called Dolphin) whose work I found quite outstanding. I ended up buying several pieces of his finely crafted work before going on to the airport for my flight to Bangalore.

Arrived at the airport to find one of the Twenty20 teams, the Bangalore Royal Challengers, were on their way to play their next game. Martin Crowe, the former captain of New Zealand, is the manager of the team, and as he played for Somerset for many years he came across to have a chat. He took me across to see Rahul Dravid who I'd recently had dinner with in London. He in turn introduced me to India's captain, Anil Kumble. Mr Kumble stared at me in a blank way and then took out his mobile phone and began dialling a number. When the call was answered, he said, "He's standing in front of me," and then passing the phone to me, said, "would you be kind enough to have a word with my wife, she's a huge fan." I had a chat to Mrs Kumble, who seemed to have read every word I've ever written, and we agreed that when they were both next in London I'd take them out to lunch. The striking thing about both Dravid and Kumble is not their filmstar looks, but their quiet dignity in the face of a vast crowd trying to touch them. I left them, wondering how England were doing...not very well, my minder told me; we were over 100 runs short after the first innings total and at one point looking like we might even have to follow on.

I'd already received warnings by email that Bangalore was determined to out-do Mumbai, and I confess that when I arrived I was lost for words. The crowd had already spilled out onto the pavement and the bookshop had over 1500 people waiting inside. The welcome was incredible, and The Times of India the next day described it as a rock concert, with people swaying in the aisles. I was surprised and delighted to find Mr R K Laxman, the great Indian cartoonist (The Times of India) sitting in the front row with his wife. Mr Laxman is of course the brother of R K Narayan, who has kept me glued to the page for the past week, and he was gracious and generous, giving me a coffee table book of his work which I shall take back to Cambridge. After my talk, during Q&A a lady asked me why I bothered to come to India when the book was already No.1 and had been for the past 10 weeks. I replied that if she was an author, flew to London and then they took her out to Romford to find 1,500 waiting in a WHSmith, I guess she'd want to make the trip. I signed 794 books and was so exhausted I was almost carried out of the building. A night I will not forget for the rest of my life.

I slept until 8 the next morning, and was just about ready for my first interview at 10am - the first of five interviews before departing for Chennai, which of course as a schoolchild I remember as Madras. The routine is now falling into place; interviews, followed by lunch, followed by the airport, new hotel, then talk and signing. People in Chennai are as warm and friendly as in every city, and once again they spilled out of the room and onto the pavement. When I arrived back in the hotel, Landmark had kindly lined up a small dinner party for me, and I was able to discuss with senior members of the team my plans for the next book. They invited me to return next year to open their brand new Landmark bookstore in Calcutta, and also visit Hyderabad which couldn't be fitted in on this trip. They've already had requests for me to return to Mumbai, Delhi and Bangalore, and are currently working on a new programme for this time next year. As my new book, Paths of Glory, (probably to be published in March next year), is the story of an Englishman who visits India three times, they were particularly keen to take advantage of the fact that it will be my first novel where India gets more than a passing mention. I have no idea how all this will work out, but will keep you informed.

On Sunday, I did 8 interviews before taking a break to watch the England v New Zealand match on tv in my hotel. We're in real trouble, and I can't see a way out. Indeed, several Indians took the opportunity to point out that I would arrive back in England just in time to see us thrashed by the New Zealanders. In the evening, Landmark laid on what they described as a select dinner for a few friends and supporters that numbered a mere 300. Among them, that wonderful tennis player and charming man, Vijay Amritraj, but the cameras really started flashing when the Bollywood star Shriya Saran came up to have her book signed. Shriya then dashed off as she had to be on set at 5am the next morning, which made me feel a little guilty about any suggestion that I'd been experiencing tough hours.

Only had 4 hours sleep because of an early flight back to London the following morning. I groaned when I heard it would be a 10 hour journey, but can't complain because I fell asleep and didn't wake for 6 hours. Although I was looking forward to returning to my homeland and getting back to work on the new book, the last 10 days has been among the most exciting and worthwhile in my life. It's been a great privilege to see a little of India and to be given such a warm and friendly welcome wherever I went. I have no doubt that I will be returning again. When I arrived back in London, it was raining and a driver was waiting for me with a card saying 'Archer'. No rock star welcome here.

One thing I truly miss when I'm away is the theatre, and I immediately booked to see That Face at the Duke of York's. That evening I parked my car on a single yellow line by the side of a goods entrance. As I was locking the door, a large vehicle came out of the entrance, so it was clear it wasn't in any one's way. I went off to see the show - which has received wonderful reviews, although perhaps the story of a disfunctional family was not what I needed on my return from India. When I came out (it was still raining) my mini was gone. It had been towed away. I must be back in England.

Malgudi Days

Every so often - you must have experienced this - you discover a new author, and it's really one of those exciting moments when you realise they've written a dozen novels and maybe half a dozen short stories that you will be able to enjoy over the coming months. I remember at the age of 10 reading the Just William books by Richmal Compton, then discovering at 14, Ian Flemming, before moving on to P G Wodehouse and Evelyn Waugh. In my 30s I found F Scott Fitzgerald, Steinbeck and Faulkner, having devoured short stories by H H Munro (Saki), Maupassant and O Henry. Yesterday I was introduced to the work of an Indian author many of you in England will have read, and I feel guilty about having discovered him so late in life. I want to share with you the fulfilling R K Narayan. I'm starting with Malgudi Days, a collection of his short stories. If you've got nothing to do this bank holiday weekend, rush out to your nearest library or bookshop and grab a copy of anything he's written, because he's sheer magic.

Take-overs and tolls

Yesterday evening I had a marvellous dinner with 100 guests from the world of entertainment, politics and business. Among them was Mr Krishna Kumar, the man who was responsible for taking over Corus Steel, Jaguar, Landrover and Tetley tea. Mr Kumar's fascinating tale of the bidding process between him and the Brazilians locked away in separate rooms is worthy of a short story in its own right. Failed for the fifth night in a row to get to bed before midnight.

Up this morning at six, and we decided to drive rather than take the plane to Pune, which was a very pleasant experience on the excellent express highway paid for by tolls. The problems only arose when we approached the outskirts of the city to find all the roads blocked off because a minister was passing through on his way to a meeting in Pune. I pointed out to my minder that if a British minister, even the Prime Minister, stopped everyone getting into a town, he'd lose the next election by a landslide. "Yes," he said, "but you don't assassinate your ministers." Shocked, I asked him how many ministers had been killed in the last 10 years. He replied, "I can't tell you how many in the last 10 years, but in the past 2 years 10 have been murdered." One of those rare occasions when I was speechless, and reminded how lucky we are in Britain where the only pot shots we take are usually in cartoons.

After 6 print interviews and a radio interview, this evening I am doing another 'meet the people speech'. Because of the bank holiday weekend in the UK, it will be 2 or 3 days before you get my next post. Have a great weekend.

Bollywood and book signings

It would be thrilling for any author on earth to arrive as a foreigner in a town such as Romford for the promotion of their book to find over a thousand people waiting for them in the local WHSmith. That's the equivalent of what happened to me yesterday at a Landmark bookstore on the outskirts of Mumbai. I spoke for 30 minutes and answered questions for another 30, but it then took two and a half hours of signing before the last person presented their book. It was one of the most thrilling evenings of my life. I am staggered by the intensity and sincerity of the Indian people and the courtesy they show storytellers that others might dismiss as lightweights. This is clearly a tour I shall never forget. I arrived back at my hotel just before midnight and was asleep within moments.

This morning I had 7 print and 2 tv interviews, and am about to go over to the National Gallery of Modern Art to try and learn a thing or two about Indian art, about which I confess I know nothing. This evening I dine with Bollywood, and meet producers, directors and people connected with the film world - about which I also know nothing - although the newspapers this morning are full of news from Bollywood and the Twenty20 cricket; in fact these two subjects dominate the first and the last 10 pages of every paper. More of that tomorrow.

Indian walkabout

The tv interview I mentioned yesterday is Walk The Talk, where the host, Shekhar Gupta, goes to your place of work and walks about with you asking questions. For me, he chose a large bookshop, but his questions were not about books, anything but. He wanted to know about Cherie Blair and Tony, about David Cameron and Gordon Brown, the Indian cricket team and why the England players were always injured, and with about 2 minutes to go, he deigned to mention the books. This was quickly followed by an interview with a young reporter from a literary mazagine, before I was rushed back to my hotel - well, we travelled at roughly 2 miles an hour with pedestrians overtaking the car. A quick turnaround before attending a very enjoyable dinner in honour of the a Mr Singh, former secretary at the Ministry of Finance. It was well-attended by a galaxy of Members of Parliament and the luminaries of the art world. Talk was of India's future, and the minister of tourism was convinced that India could do more than hold its own against China, and probably had a better chance of advancing on the world stage.

This morning I had a 9am flight to Mumbai (which some of you may remember as Bombay). Instead of a flight of just under an hour, having had a delayed take-off and repeated circles above Mumbai before landing, the journey from my hotel in Delhi was just over 5 hours. What is fascinating is the Indians take this all for granted and do not complain. I arrived at the hotel in time for lunch and have just completed 4 print interviews. This evening I'm giving another talk following by a book signing, which they tell me is likely to be the busiest of the whole tour.

If it's Monday, it must be...

This morning I had to get up at 6am for an early flight back to Delhi - and this time because of a sandstorm the plane was 3 hours late, but I would like to say that although the airport itself was third world, the aircraft itself (a Kingfisher) was as good as anything I've flown on in the world. I later discovered that the airlines are run by independent businessmen and the airports by the government. Perhaps they ought to read Margaret Thatcher's memoirs, because it's clear that Indian businessmen make things happen, whereas governments the world over tend to hold things up. Back in Delhi and straight to the NDTV studios. Sonia Singh interviewed me in front of a hundred young Indians, and their questions were to the point and very demanding. I don't think India need worry about its next generation. I'm now on my way to another TV interview, an hour away, but more of that tomorrow as I'm dictating this in a car being driven by a lunatic.

The heat, the bustle and cricketing legends

Arrived in Delhi to be met by the Landmark team headed by Lijin Thomas. My first surprise came at customs when the man checking my passport asked for an autograph. He then turned round and told his colleagues, 'It's Jeffrey Archer,' and half an hour later I managed to pass through. It turns out that in India, authors are like film stars, partly because the nation is so well-read - of a billion people, 200 million read and 50 million read books regularly.

After a quick turn around at my hotel (where my suite was larger than a cricket pitch) I went off to a lunch arranged by Lokesh Sharma; a wonderful occasion and such a variety of guests, including Nawab of Pataudi who was up at Baliol and captain of cricket just before I was presidet of athletics. Kapil Dev strolled in, followed by the Minister of Commerce, Kamal Nath, and they were supplemented by two former ministers, a judge and a Bollywood star. I was meant to sit down for lunch at 1pm, as my first interview with The Times of India was at 2pm, but we're in India, and I sat down at 1.50pm, for precisely 2 minutes before being invited to speak, so I didn't actually get any lunch (I'm glad I'm slimming at the moment).

My first interviewer was courageous enough to say that two distinguished Indian authors (and I choose my words carefully) were sacred cows you were not allowed to criticise, whereas in truth many people struggled with their books. All the interviewers were interested in my first impressions of India, but I had to point out that I'd only just got off the plane. However, I do have a few observations, mainly of bicycles being ridden the wrong way down one-way streets dodging the on-coming traffic, little green auto-rickshaws being driven at full speed in an out of traffic, no rules, no bus lanes, the occasional cow in the middle of the road and in major cities some 50 accidents a day. All in all, one would have to describe the Italians as cautious in comparison. I followed this with 4 more print and 3 TV interviews. Sunil Sethi of NDTV conducted a brilliant interview and I was full of admiration for the research he'd obviously done and his relaxed and professional manner.

I was rushed off to a bookstore on the outskirts of Delhi to find 700 people waiting for me. After I'd given a talk, the signing session lasted two and a half hours - and the only reason I escaped was because they ran out of books. Battered and hungry I said to my minder how surprised I'd been to find so many people there, and he replied, 'Oh, they're going to get a lot worse,' - by that he meant bigger crowds. From there, to a Twenty20 match between the Delhi DareDevils v King's XI Punjab. Sadly a rainstorm got in the way of any result, but what did strike me about the Twenty20 - about which much is written in the British press - is what great international players they have - I saw McGrath, Sehwag, and Marsh playing as if their life depended on it, and the crowd of 42,000 were screaming and shouting after every ball. I have a feeling this Indian experiment is going to be with us for a long time. Got back to the hotel very late, exhausted and hungry, but having enjoyed every moment.

The following morning I did 5 magazine interviews, then had a quick bowl of soup before being rushed off to the airport to travel to Lucknow. The flight was delayed by over an hour, so on arrival rushed straight to the Landmark bookstore to find another few hundred people waiting for me, as well as a group of 5 journalists from the local papers who interviewed me together. At least the bookstore had enough books in stock, so the signing went on for another couple of hours, after which I had to fit in a second interview with The Times of India and a different journalist because she'd missed her earlier slot. Back in my hotel room by 11pm - another early start tomorrow for a flight back to Delhi.

Fabulous Forties night

Off to the tent in Battersea Park last night to do an auction for Leonard Cheshire Disability, which is celebrating its 60th anniversary. 500 people turned out for a Forties evening, with the women all doing their best to look like Celia Johnson. One genuinely original auction item was to be immortalised as an Aardman Animations character. The team who created Creature
Comforts and the Oscar winning Wallace and Gromit, helped put Leonard Cheshire Disability on the map with Creature Discomforts, a series of animated adverts featuring real disabled people. They offered to interview the top bidder, analyse their voice and personality and design their very own Creature Comforts character - with a private guided tour of the Aardman studios thrown in. This went for £13,000, and the auction overall raised £86,500. I enjoyed the evening, and the event organiser, Sharon West, worked her cotton socks off. I really admire people who give such service to causes they believe in.

I'm off to India later today for a 12 day tour of that great continent, where A Prisoner of Birth is currently No.1 on the bestseller list. Although I will have many official activities - book signing sessions and talks - I'm much looking forward to attending the IPL match between the Delhi DareDevils v Kings XI Punjab . I will be blogging from India, so will keep you informed of what I'm up to.

Views over London

On Wednesday evening Mary and I hosted a charity function at the flat for our old friend Penny Gummer for the Ormiston Children and Families Trust. About a 100 people joined us for drinks and canapes, and I was delighted to learn that their silent auction had raised around £30,000 even before the evening was over, so I'm hoping it will be nearer £50,000 by the time all the pledges have been collected. The charity works to promote the well being of children and young people, especially those disadvantaged by their life experiences or circumstances. Not that it would matter which charity it was, because if Penny is involved, you can guarantee the cause is worthwhile and she will have worked very hard to make a success of it. Her husband John, former Secretary of State for the Environment, looked out of the window at the London Eye, and said, "I'm responsible for that, Jeffrey. Everyone was against it, and now very few are suggesting it should come down. Compared with the Dome, it's a bit of a triumph," he added.

Life through a lens

Last night I went to the opening of the Patrick Lichfield exhibition at the Chris Beetles Gallery. Joanna Lumley, much loved by all, introduced Barry Humphries who officially opened the exhibition. Barry is of the old-fashioned school; he had obviously taken some considerable time preparing a speech about his old friend Patrick Lichfield and his admiration for his work, but more than that, the speech was witty, informative and full of wonderful anecdotal stories. Very hard to see the exhibition last night as there were so many famous people looking at each other rather than the pictures. But I particularly liked the photograph of Susannah York and another of Marlon Brando in deep conversation with Charlie Chaplin. It's fun, and well worth a visit.

There ain't nothing like a Dame

Dame Edna Everage took Addenbrooke's Hospital by storm on Saturday morning. Not satisfied with opening the occasion, she then proceeded around the hospital and the stalls for the next couple of hours sharing her medical expertise and experience with the hundreds of people present. Mary had pointed out in her opening speech that the distinguished visitor before Dame Edna was Her Majesty The Queen. I left my poor wife Mary with the words, who in heavens name are we going to get next time? I know from messages passed on to me how grateful people are when a star takes the trouble to give up their time and offer their professional services at no charge. The turnout for the opening broke all records and I will end on the poem Dame Edna wrote specially for the occasion.

Ode to Addenbrooke’s – to be recited joyfully by an Australian Gigastar

I love to visit hospitals
No matter when or where
And my favourite department
Is of course, Intensive Care.
I feel happy and relaxed there
Far away from household chores
Bringing joy to all the patients
Pushing through those floppy doors.
As a kiddie I would visit
My dear old Auntie Molly
Who passed away quite suddenly
By falling off her trolley.
And years later when I took
the Theatre World by storm
I practically lived in intensive care
To cherish my husband Norm.
I even built a hospital
And gave it to the nation
Surely you must all have heard
of my Royal Prostate Foundation.
I have given more to medicine
Than those other famous Dames
And my husband’s organ has inspired
The Prostate Olympic Games!

But tucked away in Cambridge,
In one of England’s lovliest nooks
Is a hospital that I adore,
You’ve guessed it, Addenbrooke’s!
The concourse alone’s enough to make
you glad that you’re alive
(Call me old-fashioned but it reminds me
Of an efficient Terminal 5.)
I come here to have my hair done
Book a trip, or throw a party
Or sip my favourite coffee,
An Americano or a latté.

I guard my anonymity
When I’m here at Addenbrooke’s
So I’m not always signing autographs
Or receiving awe-struck looks.
And on those rare occasions
when I don’t want to be seen
I wear a polyester headscarf -
A present from the Queen.
But now, upon your Open Day
I’m so full-on I’m scary!
And I’m proud to be the special guest
Of my fragrant friend, Dame Mary.
For here you have a hospital
That all the world should see
It’s an institution,
life-affirming,
Iconic, like me!

So possums, open up your hearts
And if you will, your purses,
And remember all the fun we had
When we played doctors and nurses.


I had to rush Dame Edna back to London as her alter-ego Barry Humphries was appearing as one of the judges on the BBC programme, I'd Do Anything that evening. What a pro.

A Knight to remember

Last night, 1,200 people gathered at the Grosvenor House to celebrate Sir Ian Botham's knighthood and to raise money for 3 great causes: Leukaemia Research, English School's Cricket Association and Crossroads Centre. The guest list included some of the greatest players in so many sports - Ian of course, and his close friend Viv Richards sat on the top table with Eric Clapton and Charlie Watts - if that wasn't enough, Sam Torrance and Sunil Gavaskar made up our numbers. When the team photograph was taken on stage, these greats were joined by Gatting, Gower, Tuffnell, Jason Leonard, Matt Dawson, Thompson, Marsh, Willis, Mark Foster and countless others I can't remember, but who on any other night would have been the guests of honour.

The evening opened with the Band of the Irish Guards playing Land of Hope and Glory as Ian and his wife Kathy headed towards the top table. The entertainment continued on through the evening, ending with a superlative performance by the legendary Eric Clapton, who not only gave his services free, but allowed me to auction one of his famous guitars which raised £40,000 - part of the £206,500 raised in the auction. Among the other auction Lots, which is certain to cause amazement in press circles, was Piers Morgan's bid of £12,000 to edit The Mirror for one day. I can't wait. The evening will have probably have raised around a million pounds for the three charities that Ian supports. Mary and I crept off at 1am, but I'm told the last guests were seen leaving around 4am, and that several of them were due to have breakfast with Ian this morning.

Today I'm taking Barry Humphries up to Cambridge, so that Dame Edna can open the Addenbrooke's Open Day tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock. Any Cambridge readers, make sure you're there because she's bringing along buckets of Gladioli to throw at you. Have a good weekend.

Eating for my country

When you're promoting a book you sometimes have to do the strangest things. Yesterday I was interviewed by James Kidd for the food magazine Square Meal - taking place in one of my favourite restaurants - and to talk about my eating habits. Mr Kidd is a civilised journalist who doesn't spend the entire time trying to trick you into saying something silly, but is more interested in discussing the subject he said the interview would be about. No surprises that we touched on champagne and Shepherd's Pie, and what Mary and I serve our guests at our summer party. The meal took place in Lucio's on the Fulham Road, where we both had the courgette flowers to start and he ended with the Affogato, which is a disaster because I'm slimming (again) and piously watched Mr Kidd eating his.

In the evening I went to the Donmar to see Peter Gill's production of Small Change. The crits were very divided on whether this was brillant or boring, and the audience felt the same, because several people left during the interval while others cheered loudly at the end. Although the acting is of a high standard, I wouldn't put it to the top of your must-see list. My Personal Assistant, however, went to the first preview performance of the new musical, Never Forget at the Savoy Theatre, with a very sceptical, come on entertain me attitude. She reported back to me this morning that she thoroughly enjoyed it - it was very funny and had great energy. Such is her enthusiasm - and she was right about Dirty Dancing and Hairspray - that I shall be attending an early performance to see if I should be investing.

Football woes

Chris Beetles and I drove down to Reading last night to have dinner with John Madejski. He was naturally in a fairly introspective mood - his team is currently in the Premiership drop zone on 33 points with Fulham one above them on the same points. Fulham go to Portsmouth while Reading travel to Derby. If both sides win, Fulham will survive and Reading will return to the Championship. On the other hand, if Fulham lose or draw, and Reading beat the bottom team in the table they will survive. I don't think poor John will have any fingernails left by the time both games kick off at 3 o'clock this Sunday. Nevertheless, we shared an excellent dinner at the Leatherne Bottel. The view over the Thames must be one of the finest of any restaurant in England, and if that were not enough, the food is wonderful. If you're in the area, it's worth a detour.

Ham and pineapple or pepperoni?

At Stratford on Saturday I managed to fit in a matinee of The Taming of the Shrew at the Courtyard Theatre before my speech at the inaugural Literary Festival. The play first. The director, Conall Morrison, made the decision that this was not a story about a shrew woman being turned into an obediant wife, but about a suitor being such a male chauvinist pig that he demanded his wife just did everything he wanted. Fine so far, and an interesting idea. However, by the middle of the second act, I wanted to shout at the shrew, for god's sake tell him to get lost, he's a thoroughly unpleasant man! It's never been an easy play to perform, and any director has the right to seek a new translation, so although Mr Morrison succeeded in achieving his aim, the fun of the play was lost and didn't work for me.

I then went on to the Festival Marquee where I gave a short talk on my latest book, A Prisoner of Birth and the process of writing. The Q&A session that followed was fascinating, as the genuine literary audience were charming but very demanding with their questions. I spent a further hour signing books, and then left, pleased that I didn't get the question that had stumped one of the authors earlier in the week - what's your favourite pizza? Which reminds me to say that afterwards, I returned to The Dirty Duck for supper before spending the night at Ettington Park Hotel which remains one of my favourite hostelries.

Festival weekend

Tomorrow I'm off to Stratford-upon-Avon for their inaugural Literary Festival. I'm speaking in the festival marquee at 6.00pm, and will be signing some books afterwards. If you've got nothing better to do, I look forward to seeing you.

Opera in the Garden

After two writing sessions yesterday, I walked down to Vauxhall Primary School to cast my vote for Boris Johnson. We'll have to wait until this evening to find out if he's our new Mayor of London.

In the evening, Mary and I went to the ENO to see The Merry Widow which is such fun, though even I couldn't help noticing that there were 70 people on stage wearing the most fantastic costumes for each of the three acts whereas the night before I'd watched Vanessa Redgrave all on her own in the centre of a stage. The production was quite excellent with some memorable performances by Alfie Boe, Fiona Murphy and Philip O'Brien. If light opera is your thing, this is an evening for you.

A solo drama

Last night I saw Vanessa Redgrave in The Year of Magical Thinking at the Lyttleton. Miss Redgrave is on stage for an hour and 35 minutes with only a chair for props. The soliloquy is a staggering achievement in memory alone, and is based on the memoir of the distinguished American author, Joan Didion, at that period in her life when she lost her husband John Gregory Dunne - who I once did a book tour with - and soon after her daughter. The power of the piece comes from it being neither sentimental nor indulgent, on the contrary, it's the whimsical thoughts of an intelligent woman about, as she keeps reminding us, something we will all have to face at some time. It's not a fun evening, but if you admire great acting by someone at the top of their profession, you should be phoning the National today. Along with Judi Dench, Eileen Atkins and Maggie Smith, there isn't a nation on earth who has a better bunch of grand dames than England, and when one of them is at their best, as is the case with Miss Redgrave, one shouldn't miss it.