A warthog, that is actually a skunk. I need to catch up on some sleep.

View this post on the web at [link removed] The contrast could hardly have been more complete. A week earlier, Amory had been filming out of the window of a mission truck as we sped through eastern Ukraine. Now he was filming from a car inching slowly over the cobblestones of Paris. Same camera. A world away. INDIA HICKS. An Unexpected Journey. is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. It was the week my book, ‘Entertaining with a Side of Chaos [ [link removed] ]’, was published. I began the week at the Céleste Book Club in London, being interviewed by my friend Geordie Greig, the respected editor of The Independent newspaper. Accustomed to questioning world leaders about matters of genuine consequence, he was suddenly faced with an old friend talking about napkin rings. I was also invited to speak at OKA, the distinctly British purveyor of furniture, beautiful objects and civilised rooms, with its founder, Sue Jones, about the art of entertaining. Sue amused us all, describing her husband’s habit of inviting delightful strangers he meets in the pub to dinner, but then forgetting all about it. His memory returns only when they appear at the door; Sue, meanwhile, has to produce the dinner. She has learned over the years, she says, never to cook for only two. I also sat on a panel at the Design Centre with Willow Kemp of the Kit Kemp design dynasty and acclaimed hospitality designer Robert Angell, who both spoke authoritatively about the grand commercial world of hotels, restaurants and rooms for hundreds. I talked about pretty tablecloths. Every panel needs range. On one of these evenings, David and I had a long dinner with new friends, a Christie’s auctioneer and his elegant wife. He told us about visiting my aunt towards the end of her life to discuss the future of the ample contents of her historic home. But he could not bring himself to say “when you die” or “on your death.” Eventually, he found the perfect words: “When the taxable event occurs…” On Wednesday, David and I were due in Paris to join EDGE Escapes for a brunch that would highlight my book and serve a lot of rum. EDGE Escapes is a book club with a passport. ( I will also be with them in San Francisco [ [link removed] ] and Greenwich CT [ [link removed] ] in October for two more special events). Amory was travelling with us, documenting the trip for EDGE. We needed to arrive by late morning. Eurostar had other plans. Two trains cancelled, several hundred furious passengers and utter chaos later, we finally found three seats. Our hosts, however, were entirely unflappable. They simply rearranged the day, and before long we were sitting in the beautiful courtyard at Ralph’s for a late lunch. It struck me that this may be the real art of both travel and entertaining: not preventing chaos, which is impossible, but refusing to let it spoil anything. INDIA HICKS. An Unexpected Journey. is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. We returned to London on Thursday for the official, official launch of my book at the Lanesborough. It was poignant to be there without my mother. She had joined me only two years earlier when we launched ‘Lady Pamela’. She had spent much of the evening interrupting to tell me I had got various facts wrong. The audience, naturally, adored that. I love the Lanesborough for its particular Englishness, but most of all because it has a cat called Lilibet who roams freely through the hotel, presumably checking that standards have not slipped. There was time for one quick supper with my brother and sister before I developed a horrid head cold, making my already muddled thinking considerably more muddled. The Penelope Chilvers team had reminded me not to forget the link in my bio for an early-access post we were collaborating on (if YOU want early access click here [ [link removed] ]) . “This is not my first rodeo,” I messaged back. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” I sent this with a big smiley face. I then published the post, without putting the link in my bio. I am an idiot. This morning, I woke from an extraordinary dream. I was riding through the English countryside on a tetchy horse when we encountered a warthog. Except it was also, somehow, a skunk. It produced the usual appalling smell, then went considerably beyond the normal skunk brief and sprayed actual poop everywhere. I need to catch up on some sleep. INDIA HICKS. An Unexpected Journey. is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Unsubscribe [link removed]?