Home life
Millionaires' row
Alice Thomas Ellis
Inearly got thrown out of Christies last week. I went with Caroline, and I had been asked, only I hadn't got a ticket. It was a glittering auction in benefit of an Aids charity, but they were loth to let us in. Rain was threatening, photographers were lined up both sides of the door, there were policemen in the road and some elegant ladies on the steps when we arrived — and the doors were firmly, closed. Why was this, we all asked each other, but no one knew. A multi-millionaire arrived in a chauffeur-driven limousine, strode up the steps and rang the bell. The door opened a crack and a man asked what he wanted. `To bid,' responded the millionnaire. Slam went the door. Several more millionaires got the same treatment, and so did Caro- line and I who had been instructed to arrive at six. The man behind the slam kept asking people if they had come to help. It seemed that an intention to bid was not due and sufficient cause to get in out of the rain. The doors opened and we all surged forward again, but they had opened only to let a man and some dogs out. I've never watched a number of irate millionaires before. They looked much like anyone else in a rage, only better groomed. When everyone was finally admitted the staff baulked at me. They utterly refused to consider letting me in without a ticket and were just about to hurl me out when the lady who had organised the whole thing came into view and said it was OK. The staff looked disappointed. We were then hustled and bustled and ticked off by a series of people in uniform. Caroline reached for a glass of champagne and was told to make haste. You can't really make haste taking a glass of champagne. It's one of those things that everyone does at the same rate, unless, of course, smitten with the palsy. If you do it in an unseemly rush you spill it. 'Move along there,' ordered another flunkey. We ended up cowering in a back room, and after looking furtively round for officials I lit a ciggie. Caroline said I was brave, not to say reckless, and sure enough yet another person in uniform appeared as if by magic and took it off me. I sulked in a corner until Boy George stalked in and promptly lit up. Right, I thought, if he can I can, and before you could say emphysema practically everyone in the place was puffing away like mad. No ashtrays, naturally, as smoking was forbid- den, so out of consideration for the par- quet and odd bits of boule and marquetry that stood around we dropped the stubs in other people's glasses of champagne.
It was diverting to see what everyone had thought it appropriate to wear for this evening. Dress ranged from black velvet and pearls (Boy George) to a sports jacket, orange mini-skirt, lisle stockings and gym shoes (a lady I believe to be a pop star). I didn't see Fergie because I was riveted to the spot by the necessity of remaining adjacent to the glass of champagne I was putting dog-ends in. I really must give up smoking. But I did see a lady from East- Enders and Shirley Bassey. I met a neigh- bour from the country too and we wailed about the weather conditions which invari- ably deteriorate as you approach Llan- rheaedr Yin Mochnant.
I had feared we might be bored at an auction, but we weren't a bit; everyone was talking at the top of their voices while the bidding went on. After a while my legs began to give way and there were no chairs in the room where we were. Then I noticed a baize-covered table empty of lots. There was a duchess perched on one end, and next to her the godfather of the eldest son. Encouraged by this happy circumstance I sat on the table, only someone had emptied a glass of champagne on it probably to free the glass for further dog-ends — and I sat in that. I was also clad in black velvet which doesn't readily dry, and I can't summon words to des- cribe the disagreeableness of wearing champagne-soaked velvet next to the skin. The evening was reaching a crescendo. The auctioneer suddenly howled into his mic- rophone, 'Will you all shut up.' Caroline and I agreed it was time to go home.
Despite the faintly less than welcoming ambience, I believe the auction raised a larger sum for charity than ever before.
This is due to the magnificent efforts of the lady who organised the whole thing. Praise heaven she was there to prevent me being bounced. I wouldn't have missed it for anything.
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