I've had a bit off a Mitford's weekend. First off, on Friday night, I went to see Andrew Collins and Richard Herring record one of their podcasts. I don't normally download their podcasts but thought I'd go along and support the Lincoln Comedy Festival and it was only a tenner to get in for over two hours of live entertainment. I enjoyed it, even Mr Collins's attempt at stand-up in the first part of the show. I tell you what bugs me though; people who get up to the bog in the middle of a set. It was even more noticeable on Friday night as they were recording it and someone's echoing footsteps must be clearly audible on the podcast. I haven't downloaded it, I heard it live, three rows from the front. It was a lovely venue for comedy though, the seats were actually quite comfy.
The Mitford connection is that Collins was sporting a t-shirt which read "Ask me about the Mitford sisters." Apparently he's an authority on the Nazi-loving, uppercrust siblings.
The second bit of my Mitford weekend came yesterday afternoon when I thought I'd pop along, as part of my ongoing quest to culturally enrich myself, to the annual Sotheby's sculpture selling exhibition at Chatsworth House. It'd slipped my mind but the youngest of the Mitford's, Deborah (or 'Debo' as she's known to her friends), is the Dowager Duchess of Devonshire, whose family seat is Chatsworth. Their are two large gift shops at Chatsworth, both groaning under the weight of books about the Mitfords. They don't hide their light under a bushel.
I love a stately home gift shop. They always think they're above selling gonks and pencil sharpeners with the name of the home on the side. For a start not only were there books about the Mitfords, but there were books by a Mitford. That's right, Debo has her own books of letters and essays published. I flicked through the latest one and not only did it have an introduction by Alan Bennett ("Aah yes, I've spent many happy hours stroking Debo's pussy by a roaring fire in the private apartments at Chatsworth" or some such nonsense) but there was also advice, I kid you not, on the correct way to wear a tiara. My stifled guffaws must have been noticeable to the staff.
Another book which diverted my attention was DeBrett's Guide for the Modern Gentleman, of course I could have written the bloody thing, but it was worth standing in the shop and flicking through for fifteen minutes, if only for the advice on how to handle a lady (I was heartened to find three of my favourite albums in their Top Ten Heavy Metal Albums).
I believe bits of the TV adaptation of Pride and Prejudice were filmed at Chatsworth, and, as you'd expect, there's tons of Pride and Prej stuff, including stacks of copies of the book. What I couldn't quite understand though is why, next to Pride and Prej, there were also stacks of copies of Stuart Maconie's Pies and Prejudice. Do you think one of their buyers got the wrong end of the stick?
Anyway, what I loved the most were the tables given over the The Duke's, The Duchess's and Lady Burlington's own choices of gift. They've got stuff on with a little note by whichever member of the family's picked it, like this for a kiddies' book "My grandchildren love me to read them this amusing book whenever they come to stay" or this for a book called Posh Crosswords "The hours on the train journey between London and Derbyshire just fly by with this handy book of puzzles". What had me scratching my head the most though was a huge stack of those clocks which sings a different birdsong on the hour, they're the sort of naff things you only normally see on those terrible Innovations catalogues. The 12th Duke's note? "This clock never fails to amuse me, on the hour, every hour." As Basil Fawlty once said "Only the true upper class would have tat like that."
