Joan Collins’s diary: Why I gave up on Ascot – and where I go instead

Can there be anything more perfect than early July in London, when the sun is shining, the sky a cloudless azure and the temperature hovers in the mid-seventies? Sorry, I still do Fahrenheit. It’s party time everywhere, with all the annual events happening, but I don’t do Ascot any more, too waggish, or Henley, too wet, or Wimbledon, too warm. The former has changed radically over the last 20 years, when I was fiercely censured for borrowing another woman’s Royal Enclosure badge, on a dare that no one would recognise me. Now these high jinks would be deemed innocent in comparison to the behaviour that goes on: people snogging, passing out and throwing up in public hardly raise an eyebrow. Everyone was super-elegant then, most women wearing gorgeous hats and outfits. But sadly dressing up seems out of fashion today, which I sorely miss as I enjoy the fun of wearing a fabulous outfit, looking good and getting compliments. I would have thrived during ‘La Belle Époque’ — ah well, maybe in the next life!

I thought this life was about to come to a nasty end last week when our plane travelling back to Heathrow was hit by lightning. We had been on a mile-long trek to our gate through Malpensa airport, where the amount of tourist shops, boutiques and feeding troughs make Gatwick airport look like a corner shop. A paparazzo was in pursuit and when I ducked into the bathroom to try and shake him, I banged my finger on the loo door. While I was running it under the cold water, I was besieged by a gaggle of Italian matrons demanding ‘Aaah, Alexis, pleeeze can we take your picture?’