Jerry Hall: My Life In Tracey Emin's Column

I am writing Tracey's column this week as she is very busy doing her real job, which is creating beautiful art for her upcoming Biennale exhibition in Italy, which I am going to. I am so proud of her and excited! I have never written for a newspaper before and feel quite nervous because I have dyslexia and can't spell, but Tracey assures me that her editor will correct anything miss-spelt.

Last week I was invited to Buckingham Palace and got to meet the Queen and Prince Philip. She looked so pretty and the sun streaming through the windows into the yellow room with the gilt gleaming and the crystal chandeliers sparkling was so magical and fairytale-like. I was wearing my new Chanel suit and felt that everything couldn't be more perfect. The actor Don Johnson was standing next to me and, as the Queen spoke with him about his play, Guys and Dolls, I realised that she might ask me about what play I was doing next. A panic came over me as I rehearsed in my mind, saying: "The Vagina Monologues in Southampton, May 14th to 19th Ma'am." Thankfully we talked about how I had played the pirate queen in her children's play for her last birthday celebrations. One of the benefits of being divorced is that I'm able to pursue my interests in theatre and poetry.

Three of my children are in Mustique with their Dad for Easter, but my eldest, Lizzy, is here. We had a giggle together after last week's articles in The Independent describing how Keith Richards had snorted his dad. We love Keith stories; he is a pirate. Keith is not a man of half measures. I love what he says about global warming: "We are just ticks on Mother Nature's back. If we bite too hard, she'll just scratch us off." It's like the scientist James Lovelock's Revenge of Gaia theory - but Keith said it first.

I called Pete Townshend and his girlfriend Rachel Fuller to see if I could pop over. They live across the street, but they were just going out. I told him how much I loved Tommy, which I'd just watched again on telly. My favourite bit is when Tommy crashes through the mirror into the sea and is cured of being deaf, dumb and blind. Pete wrote a song on his new album Endless Wire talking about a mirror door and I so loved the image that I used it in a poem I wrote...

Icon

he is a hollow hyperbole

the crowd plays him like a flute

a mythical icon

a dionysian fluke

the crowd lives out their fantasy

through his mirror door they see

an image of the person

they wish that they could be

he fucks their women

and fights their battles against mediocrity

but when he comes home to me

all that's left is vd

I am off soon to do a week's residential poetry course with the Arvon Foundation in Devon. One of my teachers is the poet Hugo Williams, who I love. His last book, Dear Room, is so beautiful and touching. I am terrified because my poetry writing is very sporadic. I can't write it when I am happy. Luckily I have a deep well of sadness from my childhood and lots of disappointments in love to draw on. I have written 70 poems in the last year, but only two in the last few months. The problem is that I am happy.

I went to see Factory Girl with Suzanne Wyman. I got very irritated and complained all through the movie. Although Sienna Miller is beautiful, sexy and a great actress, and the actor who played Andy Warhol was mesmerising, it was not the Andy I knew and was great friends with for more than 20 years. Andy was a very pure and good person. As my ex, Mick, says: "Edie Sedgwick was a flash-in-the-pan, self-destruct drug addict." Andy never took drugs. That was one of the things we had in common. And he was deeply religious. Andy was an innocent, but it was the Seventies and he watched and documented those around him self-destruct. Andy had dyslexia and was nerdy. His favourite expressions were "gee-whiz" and "golly". He loved a gossip, like we all do, but he never hurt anyone on purpose. His art was instant gratification; democratic in its desire to be understood by the masses. When my children, Lizzy and Jimmy, were little, Andy gave them a colouring book that he had drawn. I can't believe I let them colour it in.

I used to work for Andy Warhol TV. It was on at 3am on some obscure cable network. I was the presenter. We used to hear that someone famous was in town and we would just turn up where they were working with no appointment. I was 18 and on the cover of Vogue. We had a cameraman and Andy. Andy's only direction was: "Don't ask them about their work or anything serious."

One day we heard Michael J Fox was in town filming. We turned up at his trailer and he let us in. I asked him what he had for breakfast and he got cross and said he wanted to talk about his movie. We said we just wanted to chat and he kicked us out. Andy used to pay me in art. I didn't think it was such a great job then, but I do now.

Hey, this newspaper column-writing is fun. You can rant and rave about all your pet hates. OK - while I'm at it, I hate cocktail parties. How mean to invite people over and not give them a proper meal and a chair. We don't do that in Texas. Tonight I am going over to Tracey's studio. I am one of the lucky few who has had a sneak preview of her new paintings. They are so ethereal and beautiful and deeply moving. She is my favourite artist and I love her. Then she is going to give me dinner.

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