John Gibson: Done deal for Dome's ten chandeliers

Published on Thursday 29 October 2009 09:32

SWINGING from the chandeliers? Brian Crawford, the Dome's managing director, pictured in OK! this week squiring Lorraine Chase and Rula Lenska in London at the Ritz Casino, tells me the George Street glitterdome's grill room will be festooned with ten chandeliers early New Year. Cost: £65,000.

Says Mr Crawford: "They'll replace the somewhat dated globes that have been hanging in the room since I've been here, from the Dome's inception 14 years ago. Only after my protracted negotiations, I may say, with owner Kevin Doyle. We've just had our best year but, Mr Doyle agrees, we are not resting on our laurels."

Mr Crawford, who mingles with the celebs and doubles as MD of Tramp, one of London's glitziest nightspots, also owned by Mr Doyle, was about to head south to horseracing billionaire Guy Sangster's place for an exclusive preview of Mrs Sangster's latest fashion range.

Farewell, Wattie

Fanatical Hibby. There are still a few of us about. Wattie Robb, familiar face and voice at the front of Easter Road's north stand for some 60 years, has passed away at 74 after a short illness.

Few had held a season ticket as long. Wattie's claim was that he never, but never, missed a match. He was a gardener with the city council until he retired. A job he took up after seeing Gordon Smith plant so many crosses onto Lawrie Reilly's napper.

Fantastic Mr Fox

Characteristic of Ricky Fox from what I know of him. The affable Aussie and chum David Ramsey raised 1,500 from a Scottish Champagne Academy dinner in the Balmoral for the Help for Heroes charity. Good show considering the dinner was a fairly exclusive affair for relatively few people. Ricky, much missed on the restaurant scene, was long-time landlord of the Magnum, in the New Town's Albany Street. A city gent.

Fashionwords . .

. . . Despite what the girls here at Holyrood tell me, I look ridiculous in a mankini and trainers. From now on, I'm going to start dressing my age. Still on a personal note, thank the Lord (or do I thank Dan Corbett instead?) for that last sunny couple of days. They worked wonders for my perma-peely wally countenance.