Once upon a time in the West End...

One of the blogs I follow ( secrets and subterfuge) is talking about the Serpentine Swimming Club.
My increasingly fallible memory was jogged, and I checked with one of the other participants, and quite definitely I have swum in the Serpentine circa 1969.
From what we have been able to piece together, it was about 3am of a summer's morning, and the general idea was, I think, to get the girls to take their clothes off.
From memory, we managed this, but only at the expense of our own clothes.
Neither the Earl nor myself can, for the life of us, remember what the grand finale was - or even who else was there - but I do know that I found myself on a train to Fishguard in half of my dinner jacket very early in the morning.
You may ask why this would be.
Well, the Earl was/is Irish, and needed to get someone out of the way by sending them back to Ireland. I think the prequel to the swimming was the farewell party. I suspect we had been in Old Covent Garden Market to get red roses for the ladies - always used to work ...
Anyway, the gentleman being escorted out of the country turned up thirty odd years later to visit the Earl in Kilkenny.
The Earl, a gentleman to the tips of his fingers, invited the apparition into his house for tea, then drinks, and finally dinner.
Asked if he would like to stay the night, the intruder remarked " B****r. I knew I'd forgotten something"
And indeed he had. His wife was still sitting in the pub where he had left her....

It was 40 years ago today....

The Great Brian Boru is berating me for not having posted recently. There is a perfectly ordinary explanation.
After the Irish left, I was almost immediately on my way out of the country to Romania.
Just so you know I got back yesterday in time to go to a dinner party.
And I'm back to Romania on Monday.
So I've had little time for anything much.
The dinner party for the Irish went what one could only describe as swimmingly - of the eleven present, 4 including myself were not drinking, but the remaining 7 got through 14 assorted bottles of fizz,red and white.
In fact, everyone had such a good time that we could only finally get to bed about 3am on Sunday.
The contingent from Germany have already sent us pictures - everything in beautiful order before, and complete detritus after.
For some reason they have also taken photos of the enormous breakfasts that were being served up.
Let me tell you a small story about my friend from 40 odd years ago.
The Earl of Kilkenny - for it is he - wondered at some point over the weekend where we had first met. I reminded him it was at a party in a side road off Kings road.
" Ah yes" he said, " I remember now. I was living round the corner and was walking home one night. The windows of Number 57 were wide open with music blaring. A young lady asked if myself and my companion ( a senior accountant with the Irish Tourist Board at the time) would care to come in. We declined. I dropped the man off home and made my way back to the party.
Some time later there were great hammerings at the door. An elderly man in pyjamas was standing there. One of the scantily clad young ladies asked him in and gave him a drink. (I hasten to add they were scantily dressed because it was the 60s and the mini was in - as well as see through tops). Some considerable time later there were more hammerings at the door.
By this time, you and I had met and were getting on famously shouting at each other above the noise. Each floor of the house was playing different music.
Anyway, the door was opened to reveal two policemen, who were also invited in by young ladies - and had drinks pressed on them. They were there, they said because an elderly man had been kidnapped. The policemen were taken to where he was and could see the report was not true.
Some more time passed, and the door reverberated once more. There stood an elderly lady in her dressing gown.
Now it so happened that it was myself that opened the door. I had great difficulty making out what she was trying to say - it may have been the drink fuddling me somewhat.
Anyway, she really really wanted her husband back. So we went in search of him, and there he was with the two policemen, all very tipsy and dancing with several mini skirted young ladies."
He paused.
" I think his evening came to an end about then."
You may ask how he is the Earl of Kilkenny, when no such title exists? Himself talks in a very aristocratic Irish brogue, which, when combined with the title, always ensures the best table, the best ticket and the best service imaginable....