When indolence becomes intolerable, remembrances of things past become a lifesaver. Charles Moore’s Spectator
Notes also helps. His recent item about his friend Lady Penn reminded me of events long ago that had slipped my mind because at the time
I was under the influence and without sleep. About 20 years ago, the designer Carolina Herrera rang to invite me to a dinner in New York for Prue Penn, who was staying with her and her husband. When I was introduced to Lady Penn, she laughingly told me that we had met before, ten years earlier, ‘when you tried to pick me up at ten in the morning in a petrol station on the M4’. My host looked shocked but Prue went on to say that I had been very funny and charming, dead drunk but all spruced up, had invited her to Badminton House for lunch, and as a kicker had also proposed introducing her to the King of Greece.
Certain words or images can jolt one’s memory, and the mention of the petrol station brought some of it back. I was on my way to Badminton for lunch, after one of those unfortunate nights of old, and had noticed an attractive lady stopping for gas. I think, or perhaps imagine, she was wearing a green or light blue scarf. The rest is a blur, including the name-drop of my king. And that’s it. Lady Penn thought it very amusing despite the fact she did not take me up on my offer.
And then there’s Hylton Murray-Philipson, and his wonderful recovery from the virus. I’ve never met Hylton, but I was once sweet on his sister Cornelia. Speaking to him on the telephone with her, he told us a story about an ex-belly dancer who had married one of America’s richest men, John Kluge.
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