Nick Elliott and a life worth drinking to

The English language has immense resources, but the odd weakness. What, for instance, is the translation for ‘Auld lang syne’? We were discussing that profound topic while telling stories about absent friends, recalling the occasional bottle and thinking about Britain.

A fascinating fellow called Tim Spicer, who commanded a battalion of the Scots Guards, has written a book about an even more remarkable chap called Biffy Dunderdale. Biffy was the sort of man who helped to win our nation’s wars, including the (first) Cold War.

In these pages a couple of weeks ago, Charles Moore brought a colleague of Biffy’s to memory. Charles had been to Eton to salute the enthronement – or whatever – of the latest Provost, Nicholas Coleridge, who must be one of the jollier chaps ever to reach that solemn ascendancy. Charles referred to an earlier Provost, one Claude Aurelius Elliott, who had previously been the headmaster.

He was not regarded as a jolly chap. But he had an amusing son, Nicholas Elliott, who had a long career in MI6. Alas, Nick will be principally remembered for failing to persuade Kim Philby to return from England to Beirut. But he had lots of good stories. In 1956, at the beginning of the Suez War, he was sent to help the Israelis against the Egyptians. He was also told to have a look at these Israelis: are they as effective as they are cracked up to be? He told his hosts that he was army-barmy and would like to see some of their men in action. No doubt spotting his purpose, the Israelis told him that they had no time to lay upon a tourist trip – but he could join a unit as a private soldier.