Beautiful evening, champagne and dinner and friends and art and baubles and Hamptons invitations, but I think that I should not like to go out any more nights in a row.
Now I'm relaxing in bed, reading the Letters of Noel Coward, a treasured Christmas gift and personal favorite of mine in that neon arrow to the soul sort-of-way:
'BLUE HARBOUR, PORT MARIA, JAMAICA, WEST INDIES, 18th February 1965...
...Let me hear from you. Just an ordinary love letter will do.'