High life | 20 June 2019

Bellamy’s and Oswald’s are the two best restaurants in London. They are owned by two friends of mine — both gents, both English — and the service and food are as good as it gets. And it don’t get better, as they say in Chicago. Last Friday I got off the plane and went straight to Bellamy’s, where the owner Gavin Rankin, Tim Hanbury, annually voted father- and husband-of-the-year since 1980, and Charles Glass, left-wing author and right-wing bon vivant, were waiting. Vodka, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, beer and brandies followed.

Living in Gstaad does for the mind what cocaine does for the libido. The last conversation I had back home was with a cow that had trundled over to inspect me. Friday night certainly made up for it. Timmy remarked that it had been 50 years since his class at Eton graduated and not a single one of them had ascended. I took exception. I was an usher at his wedding 40 years ago and reminded him that his best man, Bunter, had become a duke. ‘But that’s inherited,’ spluttered Timmy. ‘One inherits brains. Another inherits looks — courage even. So what’s wrong with inheriting a title or money?’ said the ancient Greek wise man. My argument shut everyone up.

Speaking of inheriting moolah, we were all touched by Charles Moore’s recent column about his father. I have a story of my own and told it to Caroline and Charles the next day at lunch. Soon after my own father’s death on 14 July 1989, I went to Charles’s for a drink, and met his father. The gossip columns had erroneously published that I’d inherited hundreds of millions. Mr Moore, a very English gentleman, asked me if I could tell my real friends from those hoping to gain something.