True Courage
Taki
Ikeep writing about how London has gone downhill, yet the moment I’m there I have the time of my life. Starting with a wonderful party at Annabel’s given by Jason and Amos Courage and Bassa Aspinall to celebrate their mother Sally’s 60th birthday. My, my, how time flies.
Lady Sarah Curzon was the great beauty who married the dashing Piers Courage, last of the gentleman racers and then some, back in the Sixties. After two memorable second-place finishes in Monaco and the US Grand Prix in 1969, Piers turned down an offer from Ferrari for the 1970 season to stay loyal to Frank Williams. He died tragically in the Dutch Grand Prix aged 28. Widowed with two very young boys, Sally married my great friend John Aspinall two years later, and had yet another son, Bassa. Widowed yet again in 2000, Sally has never once complained even when her beloved son Jason suffered horrific motorcycle injuries — greeting one always with a smile and a good word, her sweet nature being so typical of wellbrought-up people of her generation.
Needless to say, I enjoyed myself at the blast and for once refused to think of the past, mainly because I was among very young people. The John Aspinall–Jimmy Goldsmith crowd is mostly gone, replaced by their children, which suits me just fine. (Although I hate to think how they regard some of my drunken antics, especially while gambling following the party.) The younger Aspinall–Goldsmith set is less wild, more responsible, certainly better mannered. None of them would dream of bringing a large tiger into a room full of gamblers, as Aspers did back in 1970, or throw a large salmon at an unpleasant, whingeing punter as Jimmy did at the Clermont. (I was present on both occasions and they were equally hilarious.) No, Zac and Ben Goldsmith work hard, don’t drink or do dope, and are serious ecologists who are doing something about saving the planet. Bassa and Amos are busy saving wild animals, which is a hell of a lot better than trying to screw one’s fellow man in pursuit of you-know-what. It may sound corny, but they’re all top kids and I had a very good time hanging out with them for three nights in good old London.
Just before the party at Annabel’s, and fresh off the plane from Saanen, I went with Jemima to the Intelligence Squared debate sponsored by the Evening Standard. The motion was that Zionism today is the real enemy of the Jews. The place was packed and we had to stand despite Jemima having bought seats way in advance. I was happy that the motion was carried, and found the debate civilised and the audience impeccable. After all, Zionism, Israel and the Jews are subjects which tend to get people shouting nowadays, but there was none of that. I was particularly impressed by an Israeli lady who spoke in favour of the motion and described how she felt a ‘master’ while living among Palestinians. How all the ‘precious’ Palestinian lands had been expropriated, and how she was losing her Jewishness by being a master among inferiors. If only more Israelis felt the way she does, we might have less terrorism, but then extremist Palestinians and extremist American settlers do have a lot in common.
And, speaking of terrorism, here’s a tip for the new Home Secretary, the one with the stubbly beard and big, floppy ears. The Counter-Terrorist Handbook by James H. Jackson is published on 10 February, and everyone who has ever felt threatened should rush out and buy it. It is an essential guide to self-protection written by a man who is an expert on the subject and has been writing on terrorism and defence for 20 years. Jamie, a friend, has also written suspenseful thrillers such as Dead Headers and The Reaper, having foreseen violent religious extremism long before 9/11. And, while I’m at it, another friend, John Beveridge QC, sent me The Pocket Book of Patriotism, by George Courtauld, which I am told no publisher would touch because of the politically incorrect word patriotism. So the author published it on his own and the book has been a runaway bestseller. Britain, its past, patriotism and traditional values may not best please those who call for political correctness above morality and common sense, but they can go to hell, as far as I’m concerned. Give both books to your friends unless they’re stress counsellors, bureaucrats, pornographers or anti-smoking Nazis.
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