I think it was Donald Mainstock, the great amateur squash player, who pointed out how lovely I was. Until that time I think it was safe to say I had never been aware of my own timeless brand of loveliness but his words smote me because of course you see I am lovely in a fluffy, moist kind of a way. I walk, let’s be splendid about this, in a lightly scented cloud of gorgeousness that isn’t partial to being quite simply terrific. The secret of smooth almost shiny loveliness, of the order of which we’re discussing in this simple, frank, creamy soft way, doesn’t reside in oils, unguents, balms, ointments, creams, astringents, milks, moisturizers, liniments, lubricants, implications or balsams, to be rather divine for just one noble moment, it resides, and I mean this in a pink, slightly special way, in one’s attitude of mind. To be gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffy and moist and sticky and lovely all you have to do is believe one is high and true and fine and fluffy and moist and sticky and lovely and I believe it of myself, tremulously at first, and then with mounting heat and passion, because, stopping off for a second to be super again, I’m so often told it. And that’s the secret really.