A military funeral for a heroic vintage

Alas, the ’63 ports are beginning to fade. I came to that conclusion the last time I tasted a Warre’s, and the other night I was at the drinking of a Graham’s, an exemplar of that magnificent year. It was still delicious, and from the summit of a mountain there is a long descent. But the journey had begun. The passing of a great vintage deserves a grand obsequy: tolling bells, slow marches, a gun-carriage. How appropriate, therefore, that our host was not only a Grenadier but perhaps the most famous member of that illustrious regiment in recent decades.

There are so many stories about Valentine Cecil, and most of them are true. One year, stationed in Berlin, he decided to celebrate his birthday in the Hotel Stadt in East Berlin, whose dining room was normally reserved for East German ministers and Russian generals. Early that evening, the atmosphere was even more oppressive than usual.