It was great to be back playing live bridge at the Portland Club last week. I was lucky enough to be invited to one of its first dinners since lockdown, and I’m pleased to say that nothing had changed: a lively supper was followed by brisk and exciting bridge until the small hours, and a terrible but strangely satisfying hangover the next day. I don’t normally drink while playing, but the Portland is one of the most enjoyably relaxed bridge clubs in London. Despite the high stakes, there’s always fun and banter, and certainly never any shouting, blaming or calling for directors. To eschew the very fine wine on offer would be quite against the spirit of the place — that’s my excuse, anyway.
As it happens, even if I’d sipped nothing but water I’d have had no real chance of winning, as I ended up playing all evening at the same table as another guest — Andrew Robson, no less.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in