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Down the Kitchen Sink Hardcover – 15 Aug 2006
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A fascinating read about a writer/gardener you will love to hate. Seattle Post-Intelligencer"
"A fascinating read about a writer/gardener you will love to hate." --Seattle Post-Intelligencer
"Down the Kitchen Sink" has much in common with its famous predecessor, "Down the Garden Path", in which Beverley Nichols described his early forays into the realm of gardening. When he began to write the first, he could not prune a rose. When he began to write the second, he could not boil an egg. Perhaps this is why both books remain fresh and eminently readable. The phrase 'kitchen sink' may suggest squalor and disillusionment, but Beverley Nichols transforms it into a symbol of merriment and adventure. With a new foreword by Roy Dicks and Val Biro's charming drawings, the Timber Press edition of "Down the Kitchen Sink" deservedly takes its place among Beverley's classics on gardens, homes, cats, and other friends.See all Product description
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With regard to the person who sold me the book, the copies arrived in short order and in perfect, "as new", condition. Absolute A++
What do [cocktail parties] do to the mind? If one is a good guest, trying to perform one’s duties, they subject the mind to a series of violent pressures of which the most exhausting, in my own case, is a congenital incapacity for remembering people’s names. It is not so bad when there are only two of you. One can usually get away with… ‘Darling…such ages since we met…and what are you up to now?’ If one listens very attentively to the answer, which may be quite extensive, one can usually discover, by a process of elimination, what he or she is up to, and whether one is addressing the conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra, and artist, a novelist, a deep-sea-diver, a member of parliament, a film star, and old school chum or…if the worst comes to the worst…one’s hostess. It is when one is joined by a third party that the agony becomes intense, for now one is obliged to perform the introductions. The standard formula, accompanied by a tortured laugh, is…’You know each other, of course…’ but sometimes this does not work, because it is quite evident that they neither know each other nor wish to do so. Whereupon, one is forced into what I can only call ‘Cocktail Esperanto’. A lot of men are called Charles, and one can often get away with a sound like Chlocks, particularly if one has previously filled one’s mouth with potato crisps. This token noise, delivered with a bow from the waist, and a graceful wave of the hand towards one’s companion sometimes does the trick. (A word of warning. This technique never works with Americans, who introduce one another as though they were toast masters at a city banquet.)