I went on the Countryside March in my capacity as vice-chairman of the South West Terrier, Lurcher, Ferret and Family Dog club and on a more personal note because I think it is supremely un-English for a government to try to make us good by an Act of Parliament. On the march I wore a red England shirt, which I also wore to the party I went to the night before.
The party was a very up-market party on the roof-top terrace of a large house in Kensington. Everyone there was clever, barristers mostly, and beautifully dressed. Our host, for example, wore an iridescent two-tone double-breasted suit. There was quiche and bite-sized sausages to eat and plenty of champagne chilling in the Smeg fridge. The conversation was bright, witty and ill-informed. In my England shirt I felt like the hick up from the country that I was.
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