High life
In love again
Taki
I had a large Japanese pagoda erected in the garden which served as a dojo, the word for gym in the Land of the Rising Sun. After a long night's drinking and various other abuses, more often than not someone would go out to try to pump iron. I once found Jasper Guinness trapped under an iron bar that was slowly crushing his chest. 'How long have you been here?' I asked him. 'Oh, not too long, a couple of days and nights,' he answered rather cheekily. 'Then I guess you can stay a bit longer ...'
The wild party came to an end after that horrendous gambling loss, I had just given a dinner party at Aspinall's for my so-called closest friends, when the girl I was after 'Thank you for calling. To speak to someone mildly indifferent, press one. For someone who openly couldn't give a toss, press two. For. . that particular week decided to learn how to play roulette. Up we went and I hit two 29s in a row. I had more than £200 on each. Ergo, I was up £14,000 in less than one minute. 'Time for Annabel's,' she chirped, and I followed like the fool I am.
It is an old saying but I shall repeat it. You never change a winning game in tennis or in gambling. I should have pressed my luck. Instead, I went drinking at Annabel's and returned to Aspinall's hog-whimpering drunk. Although Aspers begged me to take it easy, he was not permitted by law to stop me. All I needed to do was sign a cheque. I persisted until I had lost everything, includ- ing my house, which I sold in a fire sale in order to cover the cheques I had issued. My father's younger brother had killed himself aged 21 when he couldn't meet a gambling debt in a gentleman's club. Need- less to say, I did not mention the loss to my old man. Years later, I found out that some wise guy had spilled the beans. 'This boy will come to no good,' said Daddy.
Mind you, all this was long ago. Most of my friends at the time are now married and retired from the wild life. I, too, have slowed down a bit. Last week I flew into London and respectability. I was accompa- nied by the mother of my children, which meant no all-nighters, no nightclub charac- ters, no floozies. But a surprise was waiting for me. It began with a party at Mark's given in my honour by Lady Powell. Listen- ing to John Aspinall and Paul Johnson reminiscing about Oxford was a rare treat, and the rare wines didn't exactly put a damper on things. It was followed by a win at Aspinall's — always an ego-booster — and a party I threw in Annabel's for Nicky Haslam's birthday. The weather was won- derful, Aspinall was in good form, and now I'm off to the Big Bagel for the duration.
This has been a very sad summer because of Jimmy Goldsmith's untimely death, as well as that of Diana, Princess of Wales and others. Looking back there is only one thing to do. Have as good a time as possible and to hell with health. And I'm once again madly in love. Alas, it's only with London.
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