Lady Antonia Fraser, pictured here in 1966
Credit: Jerry Schatzberg/Getty
Like so many of us, Lady Antonia Fraser – “Please, just Antonia” – has spent most of the past year at home. Today, the sitting room of the house in Holland Park where she has lived for “62 and a half” years, is bathed in sunlight, streaming in through the French windows, but there is a hint of perturbation in the air.
Last night, as she was watching television, the bulb in the lamp next to the sofa exploded, showering glass everywhere. An electrician has been summoned. Happily, the television remained on.
“Do I have Netflix?” She feigns astonishment at my question. “Is the Pope a Catholic?” The delights of Netflix – or “Lady Nettie” as she calls it – are something the family talks about all the time. She is particularly fond of Shtisel, a subtitled Israeli soap opera set in a Hassidic community in Jerusalem. “Akive,” she sighs, recalling the good-looking, permanently bewilder