Deeper in debt
Sir: I was moved to choked sobs by the affectionate, warts and all, self-portrait that my life-long friend, the late Jeffrey Bernard, had the forethought to leave behind (14 October) but I feel sure that he would have wanted me to point out a couple of important omissions. Inveterate borrower of money that he freely confessed to being, his amnesia seldom allowed him to remember who his creditors were, even on the rare occasions that his hip pocket was bulging with a club sandwich of twentypound notes. He kicked the bucket owing me a tenner which, had he returned it, I would almost certainly have spent on a wreath for his funeral.
For reasons best known to himself he also omitted to mention his talent for mimicry. How well I remember his rib-tickling impersonations of Gabby Hayes, James Stewart and the Queen Mother — or/was it Francis Bacon? I'm told that he also did a brilliant take-off of me throwing-up lobster Thermidor and tomato skins in the gutter outside Wheeler's, Old Compton Street. But shy and sensitive chap that he was, I could never persuade him to do it in my presence. But all is forgiven, Jeff, and please give my warmest regards to Maurice Richardson, Colin MacInnes, John Deakin and the rest of the gang —and I hope you are getting on with Oliver CrOmwell as well as you always thought you would. See you before too long I expect.
Frank Norman 220 Great Portland Street, London W1
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