I had arranged to meet Jeremy for afternoon tea in the magnificent Palm Court at the Ritz as our paths had not crossed for ages. Jeremy was a character with a capital C. Cambridge educated, double breasted pinstripe, spotted handkerchief and a partiality to fine wine.
He arrived beaming, clearly well refreshed after lunching at the Connaught.
After copious champagne I visited the boys room but on returning heard the most discordant tinkling from the Steinway only to see Jeremy being ushered away by the floor manager and courteously ejected into Piccadilly. I think we’ll meet somewhere else next time.