Don’t bother checking to see whether she is in any way related to the Goodwin we all know and refer to with affection as Fred the Shred. She ain’t.
Daisy Goodwin has a life of her own and she’s getting on with it in the form of The Fortune Hunter, her latest historical novel.
Fred’s made his fortune, Daisy remains determined to make her pile.
So utterly determined, she’s going to extreme lengths to have us buy the book. All about Sisi Empress of Austria in the 19th century. The privation Daisy has endured in Sisi’s name: a goat’s milk bath and shampoo with two dozen eggs and Cognac. A heady mix and, if you ask me, a criminal waste of good booze.
A Union flag flutters proudly over Saint Andrew Square as I write, my head birling over Mr Goodwin, conspicuously missing from the financial pages these days. Are you alright, Fred?
Any Porty . .
If you go down to the beach today you’re sure of a wee surprise. They have in this spa town a ‘‘Fish-o-Rama’’ and, last time I passed, a Model Railways Exhibition. Uptown you’ll find neither.
One tends not to linger in Porty’s High Street, though, and instead makes a bee line for the silver sands down by the water.
Afterwords . . .
‘‘Diva has become terribly misused. It used to mean that you had earned your stripes, had paid your dues. It meant the prima donna – the first lady of the opera. It was a form of flattery.
“Now it means bad-tempered and no talent.’’
A good-tempered Bette Midler talking.