Wine Tasting Date and June Newsletter 2015

Rather than send you 2 emails; you know, what with the cost of postage these days, I have combined the Newsletter with information regarding the next Wine Tasting.

Firstly, an update on the launch of my new product: the revolutionary i-Adrian. Due to an unprecedented demand for this product, the queue of people wanting to come back as me is stretching round the block. Subsequently, it means the launch of i-Adrian will be delayed until I have completely tested and exhausted the prototype. It, and I, may be a while!

STOP PRESS… Shock horror, designer posts a disrobed photo on Instagram! No, no, no, not me…

As I regarded the photo for research purposes: PAH! Disrobed my derriere, all it is, is bit of thigh and a varicose vein, isn’t it? I show more than that at work. At least you can console yourselves that it wasn’t me and it didn’t involve Lycra, yet this has spawned another idea!

Carve yourself a slice, Danish!

I nominate Karl Lagerfeld and Mugatu to post similar images.

The Boss with his feet up?

The Boss with his feet up?

So our next wine tasting will be on Bastille Day…. The 14th of July.

However, “Up yours Delors” or a more topically, “We’re not bourgeois, Francois”, we’ve done French wine for the moment and before you get up on your high horse with the help of that little Napolionic stepladder, hitch up your skirts and flounce off into the distance.  That was a joke courtesy of “Le Roast Beef”! Make mine medium rare….

I had been contemplating Greek wines, but Vash told me that the shoebox full of Drachma I’d saved would only get me a glass of Retsina and when I’m thirsty you know that won’t go very far. However a certain Mark and I have clubbed together (not the Ibiza version) and found we have enough Drachma to buy the rest of the Parthenon. He’s looking at the option of putting in a helipad, an artificial snow maker and ski lifts!

The evening will be hosted by Vash, one of my closest friends; he who runs the Cork and Bottle Wine Bar in Leicester Square. Shouldn’t we all have a close friend who runs a Wine Bar? I can hear one or two of you saying, “only you”. This is something we are updating with the new i-Adrian, there will be an app and a wristband to manage and maximise your intake of alcohol!

So for the wine evening we are off to the New World and I’m building an ark as well as a small bridge.

Please let me know if you’d like to come, and I will forward you the details.

Our next wine tasting?

Our next wine tasting?

Right, let’s get down to the newsletter and all the shenanigans that I may have been up to over the last month.

I went to a “Gelato Festival” in Spit all Fields on Sunday. Goodness, they really were that close together. Call me a snob, but to queue for a thimble-full of ice cream you must be mad; I could have made my own in the time it was taking to queue!

This was followed by my first attempt at Ten Pin Bowling. Now, I’d never played before and I may have had a solitary beer, but once I had dragged myself out of the gutter, Wolfgang our barman asked me how long I’d been playing, as I made strike after strike.

I’m now signed up for the equivalent of the Manchester City of Ten Pin Bowling, based in Brick Lane and playing for beer… Oh well, shame it couldn’t be for Petrus.

Travel moi?

Don’t mind if I do.

I ventured back to Ibiza for a birthday; a young lady, Tania, was turning 30 (ahem) and a group of fourteen of us headed to the island. It was a truly amazing weekend for everyone, people who just gelled.



And of course a panorama.

Boat Panorama

Sunday (the Birthday), was spent cruising between Ibiza and Formentera on a large Sunseeker, lunch at Beso Beach and then on to walk the sandy strip between Formentera and S’Espalmador. It was followed by drinks at Es Vive and then on to La Bodega in Ibiza Town for dinner.

Beso Boat

Beso Boat

Beso Beach

Beso Beach

So what is anyone esle having?

So what is anyone esle having?

Birthday Girl

Birthday Girl

Girls having fun?

Girls having fun?

Unsynchronised Swimming Squad

Unsynchronised Swimming Squad

Those who could dance then did VIP at Pacha with David Guetta, the next day was Hed Kandi at Ocean Beach and it was topped off with a day at the beach on Tuesday.

Birthday Girl Again

Birthday Girl Again

It sounds extravagant, it wasn’t, and shared between so many lovely people it was an absolute joy. And because we didn’t go to Amnesia, unforgettable!

The Ladies of the Rings

The Ladies of the Rings

The things I do?

The things I do?

The things I have to suffer!

The things I have to suffer!

I should have sent postcards to all, but the only person I know who still does this is my mother, and before you get any ideas, she doesn’t send the saucy ones!

I hadn’t been able to raise mum (mother) on the home phone, and she has a mobile which she never switches on. I spoke to my brother, who was unsure of her whereabouts when, lo and behold, a postcard arrives entitled “Beautiful Ullswater”.

My mother is shortly to celebrate her 87th birthday, so clearly she had me very, very, very late in life, and still displays the wanderlust that both she and Kathleen grew up with.

She’d been up to see a red squirrel colony, clearly in order to exact revenge for the great squirrel attack of 2013, which left her with a broken wrist! You’ll just have to look up the reference to this.

Then on to walk a goat path, I quote, “I did a mountain goat trip up to Ashness Bridge + passed the Lodore Falls + over Honister Pass + up to the ancient stones on foot.” I passed Ian McKellan and a hobbit on their way down and glittering in a gully I saw a ring…

OK, I made the last bit up, but for an 86 year old with Macular Degeneration she’s doing pretty well. I keep expecting her to do the Donald Pleasance thing from The Great Escape and leave pins on the kitchen floor to impress me with, or in my case step on!

The Falls of Lodore

The Falls of Lodore

Congratulations are in order for Shirley at Colbert, who is expecting her second baby shortly; clearly Jason has been working his magic again. As he would say as he sits perched on a banquet at The Wolseley, “This is where the magic happens!” He is certainly perspicacious in his dealings. Do you remember “The Good Old Days”?

After the magnificent weather of the last few days spare a thought for Adam and friends, who are cycling from Caen in France to the Med, it has been over 40C everyday so far. The lengths people will go to for a wash in clean water!

He is undertaking this feat for Charity and I would have liked to have gone along, but it meant being away for 10 days at a busy time of year. I may attempt to do it next year. Adam has been suggesting that I should be the front half of a tandem. As this is the man who was testing a Velcro jumpsuit for marathons to attach himself to a speeding Kenyan, I suspect I know how this is going to end!

I asked for an action shot, but all he sent me were these.

Good luck Adam.

Superman's Watch

Superman’s Watch

Superman wrapped up against the cold!

Superman wrapped up against the cold!

I will finish with a tinge of sadness. After what has been a very long battle, my good friend Tanya Vilmashkin gave up her difficult and painful fight against breast cancer.

She died at home in Australia with her family at her side. She left behind her many friends here in London. She had hoped to live to see the birthday of her best friend Tania; sadly she died the day before.

I struggled to find a picture of Tanya as they all had her friends in them, but not one had all of them in, so in the end I went for this one, as I’m sure this is how she might like to be remembered to everyone.

The plan was for a group of us to enjoy a holiday together in Ibiza. We were 14 in total, 15 with Tanya, and as I outlined earlier in the newsletter it turned out to be a truly unforgettable weekend. Tanya was definitely along in spirit, we will all miss her.

Tanya Vilmashkin

Tanya Vilmashkin


Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Sad News

I was saddened by the news that Christopher Lee had died.

I have worked in the retail industry a very long time. In fact I started aged 15 at Butlins in Minehead where I grew up selling “Kiss me Quick” hats and printed t-shirts. It may appear that things haven’t moved on that much.

Later I joined a retail management training scheme at Harrods, and Christopher Lee, was the second celebrity I met, the first was Egon Ronay, both opposite ends of life’s rich tapestry in many respects.

I literally bumped into Christopher Lee on my way back from lunch one day.

Rushing upstairs to get back to my department I was head down, on a mission and not looking where I was going, when I caught him in the midriff with my head. I looked up apologetically only to see Dracula looking down on me. Imagine my terror, was I really that late back from lunch, would the mere contact with him make me one of the undead?

Having grown up with him as the Count, I must have looked terrified, I was mortified, and apologised profusely. He looked down at me and said “Are you hurt? There really is no terrible need to rush, it doesn’t save anything.” Even today I remember the calming tone, and the softness in his voice, I still hear that every time I hear him speak, and yet I scurried off still apologising.

By all rights I should be lying by a pool in Grasse this weekend with a Michelin starred chef preparing my every meal, quaffing a delightfully chilled rose from Bandol. A very big thank you for the offer btw (by the way).LOL!!!!!

However after being away the last couple of weekends and back to Ibiza next for a big birthday bash, there are people who are starting to ridicule me for my apparent ‘jetset’ lifestyle. Sadly I had to kick this trip into the long grass.

I was mocked in the gym this morning by a friend who suggested that I must be claiming benefits, because I clearly don’t work. Ouch!

Now there’s a thought!

He did admit that if he was re-incarnated, he would like to come back as me, too late my friend, I’ve grabbed that slot!

Look, would you rather read the ramblings of a couch potato?

Following the Fifi fiasco, and the scandal surrounding the voting and bidding for the 2018 and 2022 World Cup, the former of which Wikipedia describes as follows:

“The 2018 FIFA World Cup will be the 21st FIFA World Cup an international men’s football tournament, that is currently scheduled to take place between 14 June and 15 July 2018 in Russia”.

Currently scheduled?

So we left it to the Italians to get the better of Vladimir Putin, I love this photo courtesy of Corriere della Sera.

I think Vlad the Impaler may have now “dealt” with guy in the background who is clearly laughing at his expense, but too late the photo is already out there.

And Renzi is only safe because Italy buys so much of Russia’s oil and gas.


 Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Pistol and Boo – Safe?

Dear, Dear Johnny and Dear, Dear Larry,

It’s a slightly old story, but it seems that ‘Boat People’ are not the only immigrants to fall foul of Australia’s anti-immigration stance.

Whether you arrive on a boat or private jet it appears no matter who you are, you may not be welcome if your paperwork is not in order. However if you are the rather cute Yorkshire Terriers belonging to Johnny Depp and Amber Heard the fate could be a lot worse.

So Johnny was there filming yet another Privates of the Caribbean extravaganza, this time aptly called Dead Dogs Tell No Tales.

I don’t how he could stop such small creatures climbing aboard a private jet, dogging security, hiding under the seats before arriving undetected in the land of Oz. You can’t blame dear, dear Johnny for that.

They they bypassed passport control and security, and headed off to a grooming salon, in Brisbane? Is that some kind of joke? Surely someone must have noticed these little chaps with their diamante collars skipping off across the tarmac to freedom, a spruce up and a blow dry!

Little did they know that Barnaby Joyce was on their case, he’d catch the slippery little suckers, incarcerate them and euthanize (KILL) them if they didn’t high tail it out of there by Saturday night.

Luckily the story has ended well for Pistol and Boo, by strange fortune they managed to escape from gaol, dash to the airport, and with moments to spare clamber aboard the last flight to LA by climbing up the retracting wheels as the plane left the tarmac.


However if you are an extremely tired, migrating bird and are desperate for landfall, your tired wings unable to bear you any further, be warned if you are going to touch down in Oz.

Make sure your biosecurity passport is in order, your feathers freshly preened and please try to avoid the anti-aircraft batteries now being set up along the coastline by the Ministry of Agriculture.

Pistol and Boo

Pistol and Boo

Of course there was plenty right and plenty wrong with this, but it did give me something to write about in the middle of the month!

Copyright © 2015 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

Made to Measure

Apparently some of you would like to be reminded that we make garments to measure….

And a bit of eye candy, no, no, no, not Emi, it’s all about me, me, me!

Volpe Night Out

Volpe Night Out

I mean around all my travelling, ducking and diving, you want me to work as well. I’ll have you know I didn’t get into this to have a job it’s more of a role according to Boris, and only a couple of hours a fortnight at that.

A few days in Ibiza here, a weekend in Rome there, it’s as if you are trying to cramp my style!

Anyway, talking of style here are some photos of some outfits that I have put together, in order that you might have some idea of what I will mainly be wearing this summer.

Brown Check

These photos have already made an appearance on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter for those of you who stalk me in such places.

We finally have a full range of summer fabrics for suits, jackets, shirts and beach towels. As it’s not warm enough for beach towels I’ll post those later. I know I’ll only get a slew of “out of office” from those of you who spend more time reclining on a beach than I do.

Blue Check

I’ll keep you abreast of my exploits and travels at another point as we are only a few days in, and don’t worry I’m storing it up.

Goodness, if I have to put up with Neil and Eugene fighting who has the greater column inches each time I write  one of these things. Luckily neither on them would be seen dead in any of the things I am posting here!

Blue Jersey

And so you know it’s not just about jackets, because dahlinks they are so on trend! Heavens I must leave the little green fairee alone!

Look I’m only trying to sound down, and trendy with the kids, and their social media.

Blue Check Suit


I wouldn’t want you to think that we’d forgotten about the suits…. the one above is particularly natty.

Finally here is a photo to show that I can sew. I know you only have my word for that, but I can and have in the past.

Buttonhole by Hand

Me and the elves are capable of anything, suits, jackets, trousers, shirts, ties, socks, underwear, coats and anything else including beach towels, just ask!

I will defer to Bill Murray to finish, more or less.

When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Pimlico and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn’t imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.


Marie Eichner

I’d been mulling over how I was going to write this for a while, but it seems that for the second time in a short period I am the barer of sad tidings.

After losing Kathleen in November; unfortunately Marie my breakfast partner of many years passed away a couple weeks ago. She hadn’t been well for much of the last year, but we tried to breakfast together as regularly as possible.

It all started about 10 years ago, when Marie was in her mid-seventies.

One morning I was sat at breakfast in The Wolseley reading “Corriere della Sera”, trying to improve my Italian, when Marie approached me. She said how nice it was to see an elegantly dressed young man sat, relaxing, reading a newspaper and enjoying his breakfast without fiddling with his phone.

I was flattered and this approach completely disarmed me. The fact that I had been ‘fiddling with my phone’, and had put it down only a few moments before had escaped her. I asked her if she’d like to join me, she accepted and our friendship began.

Initially it would be coincidence that we would both be there at the same time, but in more recent times we’d phone each other to make sure that we would be about and I suppose we would meet up a  couple of times a week.

Often she’d wonder what people thought of the two of us, nattering away at breakfast, a modern day “Harold and Maude” perhaps.

Even after her bypass operation we’d joke about her pills; how she’d keep tabs on what she had taken, and what she hadn’t.

I know that she was treasured by everyone at The Wolseley and that feeling was mutual. She made an effort to get to know everyone and with her husband Kurt, they were regulars at several of Chris and Jeremy’s restaurants, and she made friends in all of them.

The last time I spoke to Marie was just before her birthday which fell on Christmas Eve, she wasn’t feeling great, but was looking forward to spending Christmas surrounded by Kurt, her daughter Sally, her husband Harry and the grandchildren.

I was, moved to write this after breakfast at The Wolseley this morning. I like eating there, especially breakfast, and whether it is alone or with a friend, when I had Marie for company I always felt privileged.

Like Kathleen, I will miss Marie dearly.

Unfortunately Marie never accepted my request to have a photograph us taken together.

Marie was wonderful to be around and she loved being surrounded by people, making friends everywhere she went. We would joke that I’d end up pushing her round in a bath chair, Marie waving regally as I pushed her down Piccadilly from The Wolseley to Fortnum and Mason, covered with a cashmere blanket. Sadly, in the end I never had that pleasure.



Copyright © 201Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.

For Aunt Kathleen

Kathleen Phelan

Kathleen Phelan

The other morning my phone buzzed at 5.30am; I was half-awake, and I rolled over to see who the email was from.

But it wasn’t an email, it was a reminder that it would have been my Aunt Kathleen’s 97th birthday. It would have been, but she died peacefully in her sleep the day before.

Kathleen was my mum’s sister, and those of you who know me well will have heard me tell of her bizarre and interesting life, and lifestyle.

She had always lived a nomadic existence and until she died, lived in a caravan and travelled around by hitchhiking, even if was just to go into nearby Cheltenham to place a bet on a horse; that was her life.

We were a close family, but as Kathleen got older the chances to see her became less frequent. She no longer really liked the hustle and bustle of life in London, as she had done in her youth. The Coach and Horses in Soho was her local, hanging out in Ronnie Scott’s or The French House, friends with Picasso and always staying with him as she hitched through the South of France.

Here are a couple of stories to try to explain how she lived her life, and hopefully there will be more stories that she will have written down and my brother, my mother and I can uncover to tell you in the future.

There was a time when you were required to list your occupation on your passport. Whilst I always dreamt of putting down astronaut, racing driver or secret agent, Kathleen’s occupation was described as “storyteller”.

Having this in her passport gained her access to all sorts of strange and wonderful places. During the time of the Shah in Iran, she turned up to register at the British Consulate in Tehran and was asked to explain what she meant by storyteller. Word got back to the Shah of this strange English woman and she was summoned to the palace to explain. My brother and I still have the book that she was presented with, a gift from the Shah.

Life was not all palaces, she just loved talking to people and being on the road where one story often led to a new one.

She could make going out for a pint of milk an adventure. Sometimes when staying with my mother this could be inconvenient and a tad frustrating.

Mum asked Kathleen as she was going to walk down in to town one morning to get the newspapers; The Daily Telegraph and The Racing Post, if she wouldn’t mind picking up a pint of milk.

So off Kathleen wandered, at the end of the road she stuck out a thumb and rather than walk the half mile into town, she’d hitch a lift.

As luck would always have it, a car soon stopped and offered her a lift. Conversation followed and as the driver was going to Exeter, some 60 miles from Minehead, Kathleen thought she’d go along for the ride.

She wandered around Exeter, bought the papers, the milk and hitched a lift back to Minehead although it would always be out of the driver’s way, she would keep them spellbound with her stories and they would always drop her at her required destination like a taxi.

By this time mum’s tea had gone cold.

I will always remember the moments sat spellbound as she recounted one story after another. We spent last New Year together with my mother and all got drunk together.

At the weekend we cleared her caravan of a lifetimes worth of objects, enough Elastoplast to stretch to the moon and back, pens so that one was never out of arms reach and most importantly more than 20 lever arch files full of stories and documents that will tell a remarkable story.

Her various caravans that served as home have been parked in fields and caravan parks all over the south of England, but in the last few years she couldn’t have found better friends than Peter, Jan, Adrian and June who ran the park where she lived.


As she would like to be remembered.

As she would like to be remembered.


Copyright © 2014 Adrian Holdsworth. All Rights Reserved.