Sunday lunch
A man cannot live on oysters and smoked salmon alone. (Indeed I think that oysters are about the only things that are safe from a Peregrine's claws). This was my message to the eclectic Daily Mirror reporter looking for a story as we shallowed a fishy Sunday lunch at Scott's to open the oyster season. At a time of financial crisis I'm sure that unempoyed Daily Mirror readers, having their social security money sent out to them in Majorca, have no more trouble adjusting to this, life-style than I do. But how does the oyster adjust its life-style as it slides down my throat? Fortunately I was able to drown the beasts. Scott's had laid on a selection of wines, with a gold watch presented by Roy Kinnear for the first nomination drawn from a barrel. This was a superfluous incentive. You can lead a Peregrine to a free-load but you don't have to make him drink.
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