Sir: Kingsley Amis was not opposed to accepting hospitality from
publications other than The Spectator. In 1984 he agreed to become the Daily Mirror's poetry editor, a position he held until the arrival of Robert Maxwell ('Why are we paying that old fart £15,000 a year to choose a few poems? Give me a pen and paper'). An assistant editor of the paper at the time, I was deputed to cement the relation- ship with our new contributor. Lunch at the Savoy Grill was followed by an exhaustive tasting of ten-year-old Macallan back at Mirror HQ. At around 5.30 p.m. Kingsley expressed a desire to return home to Ken- tish Town. A cab was called and he was escorted to the front hall. A few minutes later the telephone rang. The cab driver was refusing to take his charge.
`What's the problem?'
`He's in no fit state.'
`Do you know who you are talking about? This man is probably the greatest writer in the English language alive today.'
`I couldn't give a sod who he is. I've got a new Ford Granada and he's not getting in the back.'
Assured that Mirror Group Newspapers would buy the driver a new car should his upholstery be spoiled, Kingsley was eventu- ally conveyed home.
The following day he claimed to have no recollection of the incident but was amused enough to later use a version of it in The Folks that Live on the Hill.
John Penrose
19 Victoria Grove, London W8
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