Freddie loved art. He favoured Japanese and Impressionist painting and had something of an aversion to modern art. If he came across modern pictures in auction catalogues he would scoff; his least favourites were massive expanses of canvas painted a single colour or featuring a couple of straight lines. “What’s the point of it?” he’d say. “It’s not art.”
I have never met anyone who enjoyed having a bath as much as Freddie. He had one every day of his life, either when he got up or some time later in the day, and favoured them as hot as possible. He could easily spend an hour soaking in the tub, and sometimes these baths became such a performance that Joe and Phoebe would turn up to watch.