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I had lunch at the Savile on Wednesday with a friend, as his guest, and two of his friends.

Thank Heaven! the crisis, The danger, is past, And the lingering illness Is over at last— And the fever called “Living” Is conquered at last. (For Annie, Edgar Allan Poe)

My Jameson grandmother would never say “home James and don’t spare the horses” when I was at the wheel.

You may have noticed I’m becoming mildly obsessed with my investments as a bit of light relief from reading and doing crosswords. This breaks one of my rules: don’t look.

The Tier system in the UK is the best option in this crisis.

My sister briefly worked for Shirley Abicair, Zither Time. I found myself at lunch on Sunday boasting I’d been on holiday with Ringo Starr’s secretary in Croatia.

Inappropriate crying is something I do. I never squeeze out a drop at funerals and seldom at operas.

Published in 1942 by BT Batsford Ltd, The Last of Uptake does not take the knee to wartime economies.