The Jewish Chronicle

MRS COHEN’S DIARY

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DARLING JO (JK to you) Rowling has given me her new book to read. The Silkworm is a very thrilling thriller, written under the name of Robert Galbraith (she’s fooling no-one, I don’t know why she bothers). Anyway, there I was sitting on the beach in Herzlia Pituach enjoying the book, when suddenly I read about a nonJewish character described as not wanting to go back to Yorkshire to “sit shiva” for her fiancé’s mother. I think Jo has been spending too long hanging out with me. What next, roast beef and stuffed kishkes for Sunday lunch? Speaking personally, I’m still sitting shiva for Harry Potter.

Talking of sitting on the beach in Israel, I am hugely enthusiast­ic about the proposed legislatio­n going through the Knesset which will bring Israel in line with the rest of the world by having its weekend on Saturday and Sunday instead of Friday and Saturday. I’ve had a word with little Tzipi and she is going to support Silvan’s Bill which I suppose will have some economic benefits by sync-ing Israel with the rest of the civilised world — but more importantl­y will allow me to sync my social diary. You have no idea how bothersome it is for me that everyone is working when I need to go for lunch on a Sunday — so selfish.

I’m furious with Pippa Middleton who has been talking about feeling” bullied” following all the fuss over wearing That Dress at Will and Kate’s wedding. The dress, she says, was meant to be “insignific­ant and blend in with Kate’s train”. Hmm, well I can only repeat what I said to Pippa when she was trying on outfits: “You might be able to get away with that one just as long as you don’t wiggle your bum too much as you walk up the aisle”. It fell on deaf ears, of course, and she is still bearing the consequenc­es — it’s almost as if she enjoys the attention.

I have always been very reluctant to attend music festivals – I don’t do tents – in fact I don’t do any accommodat­ion which doesn’t include the phrase “en-suite”. But then one of Dolly’s people got in touch to ask whether I would be able to help out with her make-up on the day of her performanc­e at Glastonbur­y. “You won’t need to camp, we’ll put you up in the finest hotel in Bath and fly you in by helicopter — your feet won’t touch the ground”.

Well, I was still reluctant to share the same site as a seething mass of humanity, particular­ly given the uncertain weather conditions, but then I had a word with my old friend Michael Fish and he said the sun was going to shine for the entire weekend so I decided to go. Needless to say it poured, and I nearly lost one of my Gucci wellies in the mud, but Dolly looked a picture and the Pimms in the celebrity hospitalit­y area was acceptable. Shan’t be roughing it again, though.

I don’t do tents or anything not en-suite

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