High life | 5 July 2018

Oh, to be in England, and almost die of heat after the Austrian Alps. Yes, Sarah Sands was right in her Speccie diary about last week being a great week of summer parties in London, but the really good ones are still to come. This weekend both Blenheim Palace and Badminton House play host to great balls. I only mention them because there are only two English dukes whom I acknowledge, Beaufort and Marlborough, because I knew both men when they were in their teens. There has been some grumbling about the fact that neither house would give in and change the date, but I’m fine with that. Two simultaneous country balls in two ducal houses split the social climbers in half, making it easier and more fun for the rest of us. Then there is the Bismarck conundrum: Leopold and Debbie are invited to both, but can’t make up their mind where to start. My advice was to do it alphabetically.

And speaking of only recognising two dukes, until last week I recognised only one countess, Countess Bismarck, but now there’s another one, as you’ll know if you read my column last week. But enough of that. This is party week and there are two of them at The Spectator. There is also the Pugs annual lunch in a location I am not at liberty to disclose. It’s a white tie and decorations dinner followed by a speech by yours truly at a St James’s club whose name I am sworn not to reveal — the penalty for disclosure, I was informed, is enforced membership of the new Annabel’s and an introduction to Philip Green — with the grand finale taking place somewhere down the M4 on Saturday. (I have reserved a hearse for my return to the capital on Sunday.)