A journey by train

A busy weekend saw me on the train to Birmingham on Saturday to conduct an auction for Get-A-Head, a charity fighting head and neck diseases, especially cancer, which raised just over £116,000, proving there's money in the provinces, even if my London auctions have recently been returning smaller sums. The organisation of the event was brilliant, although the timing went a little astray. I wasn't up on stage until 11pm, and poor Bobby Davro appeared on stage just after midnight, with the wonderful opening line, "I signed this contract for Saturday." On returning to London, I had a few hours rest before travelling up to north London to do an auction for the Hampstead Theatre. This one started on time, and raised some £23,000, greatly helped by an appearance by Maureen Lipman who had the audience in fits of laughter.

I'm off for a week to do the latest draft of And Thereby Hangs a Tale, a set of 15 short stories that will be published in May. The only break I intend to take is to watch England play New Zealand in rugby, and can only hope that it will be a little more entertaining than their efforts against Argentina.

A sociable evening

It must be the Christmas season because I had to rush to get to three events last night, having only just got off the plane from India. The first was Jamie Lumley's excellent photographic exhibition held at the Mews Gallery, which was watched over by his proud mother, Joanna, who's off to Uganda in a few days time no doubt to do more charity work. From there, I went to the Evening Standard Influentials Party at Burberry House, which was so packed it was like trying to get onto a Japanese commuter train, although everyone seemed to be having a good time. From there I went to the Plus One Gallery for Paul Day's latest exhibition. He is well known for his Battle of Britain sculpture on the Embankment, for the Queen Mother frieze on the Mall, and the massive sculpture of an entwined couple in the new St Pancras station. His latest works are well worth a viewing, and the prices remain sensible.

Got home about 11pm and fell asleep in front of the tv watching England lose the opening game of the Twenty20 match against South Africa.

Following the Australians into Hyderabad

I'm just back from four days in Hyderabad. I spoke at three meetings, did four signing sessions and 17 press, radio and television interviews. I am very grateful for the kindness the Indians always display on these occasions. I was particularly touched by the fact that on the three times I went out for a meal, no bill appeared.

My congratulations to Landmark on producing such a magnificent new bookstore for the city of Hyderabad, and I am much looking forward to my trip to Mumbai in April next year to open another of their stores.

Publishers should have no fear for the future of books when it comes to India, as the average age of the audiences I faced seemed to be between 20-30, with at least 25% under the age of 20. A seven year old girl had read Not a Penny More, Not A Penny Less, and an eleven year old boy had a series of questions for me on the differences between the original Kane and Abel and the revised edition 30 years later. Mind you, I did promise the lad I would be rewriting the book again in thirty years time when I'll be 99.

Beware Greeks bearing gifts

Last night it was the turn of the Greeks, who held a fundraising dinner in one of England's most beautiful buildings, Bridgewater House, just off St James's Street. Although the Lots were attractive - the chance to stay in a villa on a Greek island, or a hotel in Athens, for example, the problem is that nowadays none of the airlines (understandably) are giving away free flights, even for charity. So if you have to get yourself there and back, these Lots become not quite so attractive. The second problem was that most of the special items were for holidays or hotels in Greece, and I had a feeling that 90% of the audience had been there, done that, and I would have been far better off auctioning these Lots in Surbiton rather than at a Greek national dinner. Nevertheless, £34,000 was added to the charity's coffers, and should help with their work.

One reads a lot about the Italians and the French when it comes to style, but I have to tell you that the Greeks are up there with them. It was almost like Back to the Future, and what grand balls must have been like in the 1930s, when elegance and style were commonplace at such events. At the end of the evening when Chris and I walked out of the building we passed a young couple on the pavement. The girl had a big hole in her black tights and was wearing Ugg boots - still, this is 2009, but I find it hard to believe that in 50 years time, people will look upon that as elegant.

Finding work

I did an auction at the Waldorf last night, for Training for Life, and the highlight of the evening was an excellent meal cooked by that master chef, Anton Edelman. The charity's aim is to get people back to work who have been facing long-term unemployment, and sadly 20% of them are former soldiers who have served in Iraq or Afghanistan. The auction raised £24,100, and the most popular item was two debenture seats for the women's final at Wimbledon next year, which went for £6,000. The President of the charity, Lord Bilimoria, made a moving speech, and as I noticed his table was filled with the top people from BASS. I think we can assume the slight hiccup he had last year is well behind him. I hope so, because he's one of those people who gets up each morning trying to advance the world one iota, rather than one who finds more pleasure in going in the opposite direction.

A flying visit

I got back to London yesterday from a week's writing session in Cambridge, having completed the ninth draft of And Thereby Hangs a Tale - 14 short stories that will be published in May next year.

I now have four days in London before flying to Hyderabad in India on Saturday for a mini book tour with the anniversary edition of Kane and Abel. This will be my first visit to this great city, which will celebrate the opening of Landmark's first flagship bookstore in Hyderabad, and I am much looking forward to doing a signing on Sunday 8th at 6.30pm in Banjara Hills. I'll be doing a second signing session the following day, Monday 9th, at 5.30pm at Landmark's bookstore at Somajiguda.

I have had several complaints that there aren't enough of the limited edition of Kane and Abel available. There are 171 copies of the 1,000 left, and you can order them through Amazon, Pan Macmillan or Waterstone's websites.

1,000 days to go

Last night I attended the Olympic Gold Ball held at the Natural History Museum in the presence of HRH The Princess Royal, and, hold your breath, 32 gold medalists, 27 silver medalists and 22 bronze medalists. I was in clover. Jonathan Edwards and Hazel Irvine were the comperes, and did a thoroughly professional job. The auction raised £161,500 to help athletes who are training for the 2012 games, and one of the items was to chose which of the athletes in the room you would most like to have dinner with, and then, when you'd bid, to announce who that athlete was. The top bid, of £11,000, was for Sir Matthew Pinsent.

It was wonderful to see old friends there - Lynn Davies (gold, Tokyo), and Mary Peters (gold, Munich). Those of you who follow this blog, will know that Lynn and I have agreed to run 100 yards against each other on our hundredth birthdays. I must say, looking at Lynn last night, I'm going to have to lose another stone and train a damn sight harder - still, maybe I'll make 100 and he'll only make 99. I have beaten two other friends from that era recently, Adrian Metcalfe (Olympic silver) and David Jones (Olympic bronze) - though I must confess Adrian has a broken foot and David is on crutches - nevertheless, a victory's a victory.

The evening ended with The Princess Royal reminding us that there are 1,000 days to go to the opening ceremony on 27 July 2012, but I have a feeling I'm going to have to do one or two more auctions for them before then.

A dog in a million

When I was last in Majorca, I saw the most remarkable dog. I questioned the owner, and he told me that it was a cross between a cocker-spaniel and a pekingese and he'd never seen another one, and it certainly wasn't a recognised breed. If anyone knows otherwise, let me know. It was the most sensational dog I've ever seen.

A guide to modern art...

A year ago, Brian Sewell advised me not to go to the Frieze Art Fair, with the memorable words, "It will only encourage them, Jeffrey." I disobeyed his good advice on Sunday, as a friend of mine visiting from the US was very keen to attend. I still don't get it, despite the fact that Richard and Ruthie Rogers told me to keep trying because in time I would. They clearly know something I don't. One of my golden rules when attending any exhibition, whether it be in a great museum, a famous art gallery or a modern collection, is, if they were to offer me any piece, which one would I take away? If there hadn't been a small Calder tucked away in the corner of one of the stands - which looked as if it was in the wrong show - the answer on this occasion, would be nothing. I would like to share with you the details of one particular piece. On one of the stands was a Tracey Emin exhibit, a neon sign which read, I really do love you, which you could purchase for £65,000. I wish I could find some way of getting people to pay £65,000 for every sentence I write. This is the bit that's meant to shock you - underneath the sign was a message which invited you to fill in a short questionnaire - name, age, hobbies, things that mattered to you - and having filled it in, you could then pop it in a box along with a cheque for £10,000, and Ms Emin would come up with a personal sentence just for you. If you liked that sentence, you would then be offered the opportunity to have it made up into a neon sign for £65,000. I declined this kind offer. George Bernard Shaw once said that horse-racing was a plot between the upper class and the lower class to fleece the middle class. I consider the Frieze to be a plot among very clever dealers to fleece the nouveau riche, and I'll have none of it.

Translation please

I sat still in my chair at the Prix Polar International ceremony in Cognac on Friday evening as they announced the winner. All I heard was 'Jeffrey Archer', but still didn't get it - partly because my French is so appalling. It wasn't until my French publisher, who has the unlikely name of Anne-France, prodded me in the ribs and said, "You've won," that I got up and walked over to receive my first literary award - for best international thriller with A Prisoner of Birth. The rest of the evening went by in a bit of a haze, surrounded by bearded French men wearing sweaters and smoking Gauloises, chattering at me in their native tongue. I simply smiled and nodded occasionally, before being allowed to escape back to my hotel room around two in the morning. The following day I did a signing session in the town hall, but was unable to join the Mayor of Cognac for lunch as I had to get a flight back to London to do the auction for SeeAbility at the RAC. Although I nearly fell asleep during dinner, adrenalin kept me going just enough to raise £25,400 for this very deserving charity. When I eventually did get to bed, I slept until 9am the next morning, the award still by my bedside. Back to the real world.