The period immediately after I had been commissioned was spent at Warminster, where Angus McNeill and myself - along with Alan Morris and David Prebble, who were also fresh from Mons OCS - were required to assist in the running of a Junior Training Corps school camp. And much of our time was spent at Sturford, and in the local pubs which they supposed I must know so well. I knew the Bath Arms in Horningsham of course, which was currently run by Ernie Trollope; and his attractive young daughter Vera was one of the principal attractions. She knew me just slightly of course, but I was now in a totally different relationship to her. It wasn't just a question of seeking to shine in her eyes, it was also the idea that I should be seen by my fellow officers as being skilled in the arts of flirtation. And I did have an advantage in this area, in that I was the son of the man who owned their pub - and all the rest of the estate for that matter. So the unmerited glamour had probably spilled over on me to some extent.

In the light of all this, it is perhaps not surprising that Vera displayed a preference for me. And this was a point which the others found curious, in that I had not exactly excelled in my faltering display of more officer-like qualities when at Mons. But the flirtation had no opportunities for profound romantic development. I think the greatest intimacy was a tea-time date in Frome.

During the spell of leave before I actually had to take up my duties at Windsor, Daphne organized a week- end party at Sturford for me. Or I think it was to house some guests for a big party that was being thrown for the Morrison children at Fonthill. My own special partner was Venetia Murray, with whom I was hoping there might be romantic developments. And my cousin Sally-Anne was there, with Tony Armstrong- Jones invited to balance the numbers. He had been an acquaintance at Eton, where he had been a member of the boxing team - until he contracted polio. He took a whole lot of photographs over the course of this week- end, which were to find their way into The Tatler. But I made no special progress with Venetia, so my sexual aspirations remained static.

Some words might be appropriate upon my sexual values at this time. Like most other people I daresay, my attitude in such matters was a reflection of what I had absorbed in such matters from my parents. There was much in their attitudes which had been sparked off by the breaks with tradition which were prevalent towards the end of the twenties. While their decade of togetherness had been the thirties, and they fully acknowledged the existence of marital scandals taking place all round them, they were really quite conventionally proper in their concept of marital accord. And within that concept, there was this in- written (if male chauvinist) idea that men were expected to have sown a few wild oats before getting married, whilst the women were expected to have remained virtuous. If Henry had been given to understand that I was growing fond of some girl who had indulged in previous affairs, he would have done his utmost to discourage me. Daphne would have been more tolerant - if she liked the girl. But she too regarded monogamy as the natural state of grace, while hoping that even flighty ladies might attain it.

As far as any of this affected my own attitude, I was indeed hoping to persuade a whole succession of girls to make love with me. But I remained quite unsure as to how I should judge them if they did. If they permitted me to make love to them, and no one else, then I would have felt truly flattered, for it would have promoted my self-confidence and my self-esteem. I would have seen myself as the kind of man for whom women finally abandon their restraint - while keeping the barriers in place for others. But I was instantly filled with caution whenever I sensed that a girl was trying to sweep me off my feet from a vantage point of knowing how sexual relationships function. It was important to me that I should feel that I was the formulator, and pace-setter within such relationships.

In any case, I kept hoping to make some sexual headway with Venetia, who may possibly have still been a virgin at this time. But her idea was that I should fall romantically in love with her, and that she would then be able to develop the relationship upon the lines of an elder sister to younger brother relationship. However, this would have done little to promote my own self-imagery as the pace-setter. There were occasions on that week-end party at Sturford when I watched Venetia reclining back and looking at me with a melting romantic gaze. We may even have kissed, although tepidly. But it wasn't taken any further than that.

There was also an occasion when I went over for the day to Manningford Abbas, where she lived. Her friends Doone Plunkett and Tania Craig were also present, and we all went to the fair at Marlborough. Venetia insisted that we consult the fortune-teller, who was the traditional gypsy woman. When she told me that I would marry, but not with any of the girls I knew at present, Venetia looked peeved.

There was another occasion shortly after my arrival at Combermere, when I travelled up to London to take her out to dinner. Angus had promised to give me a lift back to Windsor if I could be at his mother's flat by midnight. We were ten minutes late, and found that Angus had already departed, but the caretaker permitted us to come and wait inside - on the supposition that Angus might be returning for me. And once we were left alone, we soon found our way to a huge double-bed upstairs, where we lay contemplating sexual development, which never really occurred. But I daresay we made some advance upon our previous position. Venetia was amused by the whole situation, declining to believe that it had arisen unplanned. But in point of fact I was more naîvely innocent in these matters than she supposed possible. I eventually had to rush off to catch the milk train back to Windsor, while she took the taxi on to a girl-friend's flat.

Inflating our chests like pouter pigeons on a ledge,
we graduate in courtship from examining our badges,
to matching favoured flavours of iced cream,
or dreaming the scenes in lavish travel brochures.
Gauche, but still brash, I stand fumbling
with dumb buttons, in a cramped bunker where clanking
mechanical gadgets - which I do not comprehend -
send me fizzing in a tizzy of futile response.
Fronds of glowing lava, treacle-thick,
trickle in imagined pageant of love from the mountain's
fountain, when in truth the dormant crater waits
with bated breath, but no fire in its belly.
So as I hover round to plant my kiss,
I see too well that Cupid's arrows missed.

What came as a most unwelcome development at this juncture was the discovery that the trooper I had once met when wandering around Piccadilly, (when I was up in London on a week-end pass from Caterham,) was now stationed at Windsor, and in the same squadron as myself. I made this discovery on the first occasion when I was acting as Duty Officer, and I was required to inspect those under close arrest in the guard-room. There was only one such person and, when the Corporal-Major opened the door of the cell, I found myself confronting [K] - as I now discovered his name to be. He came to attention, looking straight to his front and stamping his feet while saluting. I half smiled while I was returning his salute, although there was no sign of recognition upon his face. But under the circumstances, it would have been inappropriate if there had been any. When enquiring later from the Corporal-Major what his offence had been, I was given to understand that it related to homosexual matters.

A few days later, after [K] had been released from custody, I saw him approaching in the Squadron Yard. Once again I gave him the faintest of smiles when returning his salute. After all, I didn't wish to appear too snooty now that I had acquired my commission. But my smile must have been misunderstood since, on the next occasion we passed one another in the Squadron Yard, I was horrified to perceive that he was returning my slight smile with what can only be described as a lascivious leer. And I didn't really know what to do about it.

All right, I was careful not to smile in his direction any more, but it seems that he had now convinced himself that I was a closet queen, and was leching after his body - a situation which he deemed appropriate for exploitation. And he must have talked about it to others, since Derek Bartlett - who was in command of 7 Troop, to which [K] had been transferred - passed on to me a word of caution from CoH Charnley, his 2 i/c, that [K] might have designs on me. I expect the real question had been as to whether I was myself homosexually inclined. But despite my low standing in all other matters, this wasn't part of my reputation in the officers' mess.

I think there were some other Corporals-of-Horse who may have been enquiring if I was queer. Anyway I suspect Angus of passing on that story about how the clientèle of a pub at Basingstoke had reacted to my appearance by singing One of the Roving Kind - until I hastily took my departure. For that is what CoH Woods now began to do, when he was standing in the company of others, just on the fringe of my hearing. I never did manage to acquire a liking for CoH Woods.

But it was [K] whom I really needed to convince - or disillusion, if that is a more appropriate word. And this finally occurred after he had taken the trouble to bring some form for me to sign, right up to my bedroom, where I had been relaxing while attempting to keep out of harm's way. I suppose he had been intending to suggest that I get him transferred to my troop, or perhaps even to work as my batman; but in any case there was no justification for him coming up to my bedroom like this, on the pretext of having something which any other officer could have signed for him. So I brought the whole subject out into the open by asking him direct, if he wasn't the man I had met in Piccadilly, a few months back, when we had taken a drink or two together. And the astonishment on his face was quite delightful. Nor did either of us take the liberty of smiling at one another in future. But I think he must have been demobilised shortly after this.

The acquisition of a car was of course something utterly essential in the pursuit of a healthy sex life in the Life Guards. Not all of the subalterns had cars, so I did perceive that the ownership of Roger the Rover was a considerable advantage, in that it enabled me to drive where I pleased in acceptance of any invitations which came my way.

Desperate though it was becoming that I should establish my successful heterosexual identity more firmly in everyone's eyes, I was not having much luck in these matters upon the social scene. The Crawleys gave a house-warming party after moving into a new house in Sussex, and a great many of the Life Guards officers were invited. But it was notable how Sarah no longer saw fit to include me within her most intimate group of guests. I was housed elsewhere in the neighbourhood.

I remember in particular how I was upsetting people at the party by drinking too much. It wasn't that I was doing anything too reprehensible, but in trying to drown my feelings of inadequacy and incompetence, in the hopes that some bolder and more impressive line of behaviour might emerge for all to see, I was stepping back into a private fantasy world where it was even easier for things to go wrong because my actions were inebriate and blundering.

I know that I gave offence to Liz Hoyer-Miller at the Crawley dance, by clinging to her too tightly (and perhaps too lasciviously) as we swayed to the music. She dumped me as rapidly as she could, transferring her attentions to Simon Galway - who made some fierce comment when we were both back at Combermere, about my drunken behaviour being absolutely disgusting. Such aggressive rebuke from someone of slightly senior rank to myself was something that I didn't really know how to handle.

And there was another occasion. John Slessinger, who completed his National Service in the Life Guards just shortly after the time when my own batch took up their commissions, had his 21st birthday ball up in London around this time. While I was still comparatively sober, I danced with [X], the debutante I had most fancied during the summer months. And she invited me to join a week-end party at [P], her home near Chippenham in Wiltshire. I accepted with alacrity. And I think it was at this moment that it became a conscious thought that [X] must surely be the real girl-friend that had hitherto been lacking from my life.

Towards the end of the evening, I got very drunk and started behaving a bit lecherously, once again. And when I danced with [X] a second time, I tried to persuade her to come off to a night-club with me - The Carousel then being the place which was most in vogue with young officers from the Brigade of Guards. By now however, she was merely alarmed at the drunkenness of my behaviour, and it wasn't long before she had managed to lose me at the bar.

Next morning - back at Windsor - I was squirming with embarrassment over the memory of the previous evening, for it wasn't just with [X] that my behaviour had been judged inebriated. And the greatest embarrassment was in not knowing if my invitation for the week-end at [P] was still open. My mind was soon put at rest on this point however, for I received a letter from [X] attempting to smooth out any ruffled feelings that I might harbour for the way she had ditched me.

The next event was a surprise invitation from [L], to come and have dinner with him at Sandhurst. He was himself in the Life Guards and had been at Eton with me, although I had known him rather better when we were at Ludgrove; but something unknown to me at this time was that [L] regarded [X] as being his own girl- friend - comparatively innocent though the relationship may have been. But it would seem that she must have mentioned my name to him just once too often, so that when he learnt that I had been invited to this week-end at [P], he felt that it was time to discover whether I was liable to set myself up as a rival to himself; and if so, how that rivalry could best be eliminated.

When I received his invitation however, I supposed that it arose from a genuine desire on his part to be friendly. And I drove over to Sandhurst without the slightest misgivings, knowing that I was going to meet up with at least a couple of old friends - namely Mark Jeffreys and Michael Boyne - and an Old Harrovian called Trevor Dawson, whom I was meeting for the first time. The conversation soon got round to the coming week-end at [P], to which [L] and Mark had also been invited, and it was only then that it dawned upon me that [L] regarded [X] in this possessive light. So I exclaimed: "Oh, so you're soft on [X] as well?" By saying this, I was of course coming out into the open as a potential rival, and there was a noticeable hardening in his attitude towards me.

But as far as I was concerned, the subsequent week-end party at [P] was a huge success. The house itself was spacious and Georgian, set in an open garden - much like Sturford in fact. As to the parents, [X]'s mother, (Mrs [X],) was a cultured, soft-spoken, good-looking lady while the father, who was a retired Colonel from the Blues, was elegantly reserved and distinguished in his appearance, but had played a more distant rôle within his daughter's upbringing. [X] herself had a free run of the house, with no siblings to contend with on the scene. So her attitude within the household always struck me as being on the bossy side. But I found myself welcomed with a quiet warmth, for I think that my arrival on their domestic scene was at that time viewed with favour. And I was on my best behaviour of course, in that I was very anxious to please, and burning with the fresh realisation that I was almost in love. [L] and Mark however - who switched plans to arrive on the same day as myself - were strictly on the defensive, not much approved of by Mrs [X], and tongue-tied by their suspicions about my own intentions with regard to [X].

Although it struck me at the time that [X] was giving me considerable encouragement, going out of her way to joke with me and to tease me generally upon my lack of sophistication in adult matters. When I finally knew her better, she was to deny this, declaring that she had liked me, but found me far too childish to take seriously as a potential lover. But this denial contrasts with what [L] himself was to say, after he had finally rejoined the Regiment, that he had perceived how she was giving me too much encouragement, and that he regarded this week-end as having been the beginning of the end of his (very chaste) affair with [X]. Another point that I was to learn later - from [X] - is that [L] was attempting to diminish me in her eyes, by telling her how I'd enquired if he was "soft" on her. Such an expression, he maintained, was not within upper class vocabulary.

It was only a minority of the subalterns who had already been to bed with a woman when first commissioned. Within our own intake, it was just Angus - who had more the appearance of being a fully adult male than any of the rest of us. For one thing, he was six and a half foot tall, which all helps in the acquisition of female admiration. But he was more mature in personality too, and I knew that he was telling me the truth when he hinted at the occasional adventure which had come his way.

The next occasion to which I could look forward was an invitation from Henrietta Montagu-Douglas-Scott to attend the New Year's festivities at Bowhill, the Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch's stately home up in Scotland. Not only was she a distant cousin of mine, but she was also one of [X]'s most intimate friends. I imagined that I was being invited at her special request, which was in fact not so. It was a case of Henrietta inviting me for herself, or possibly for Joanna Smith - when I didn't really regard either of them in a specially romantic light. But [X] was more interested in developing her relationship with [M], upon whom she had vainly set her sights during the previous London season.

[L] had been invited, but declined in that he was dissatisfied with the current situation between [X] and himself. Mark however had accepted, and we arranged to drive north together in Roger the Rover. This turned out to be quite a terrifying experience in itself, for Mark was taking turns at driving. But after the third minor accident, I was thoroughly unnerved as his passenger, and he finally admitted that he had yet to pass his driving test - which involved me taking over the wheel for the remainder of the journey.

The visit to Scotland was not to be rated a success. There might be ample opportunity for me to be wooing [X], and she was indeed flirtatious with me. But the fact remains that her real interest was in [M], rather than in myself. And it was [M] who bestowed upon me the sobriquet of `Puppy' - on the idea that I went careering round the house, suddenly pausing to make a puddle on some priceless carpet, whereupon the tail- wagging would turn to dismay in my perception that people were angry - lying on my back in the hopes that they might pat my stomach in forgiveness, instead of smacking me. It seems that I gave them an impression of effervescent bewilderment concerning society's conventional behaviour, while being incapable of avoiding the next faux pas.

[X] was delighted with this name for me - as if she herself was an elderly bitch who had long outgrown such elderly behaviour. But it was uttered in a tone of affection, which permitted me to feel that I had her attention. And in reality it was [X]'s effervescent immaturity that made her so attractive to me. We were a couple of puppies scampering round and making puddles on the carpets of society. The only difference was that [X] used to tug at the ears of the elder dogs, supposing that if they could be induced to become puppyish, that would signify that she herself was mature.

I stand bemused, having licked my wounded love
on a lunar pinacle, watching you spin giddily
in the middle distance, romping with sophisticates,
and stomping as an unpromising pupil in their dance.
With chances meagre as a drone's, I thrust my artless
heart as a gift offering - proffered in fumbling
fingers - dangling dingey and unobserved,
absurdly neglected on the fringe of your heaped toys.
The noise of your silly suitors sinks my pride,
as they ride a tide which floats them freely to the golden
goal of your regard - whilst I, distinctive
in a pink puppy's attire, tire of comparison.
But can't you see, (or is it that you're blind?)
that they are species of a different kind?

I found ample opportunities for puppyish behaviour. This was a gathering of sophisticated aristocrats. Ian Gilmour, Dalkeith and Blandford were in the group just older than myself. But it seemed that they were all fully conversant with the traditions of such week-end parties. A whole system of rules and etiquette was in force, and it was judged gauche to be out of step at any time. The paper games and the acting games were all part of this established order, and it made me perceive that we had missed out on something within our upbringing at Sturford - perhaps for the reason that so seldom had there ever been any week-end parties that were geared to the children participating within a family life. Parties at Sturford had nearly always been an adult concern.

And yet the Thynnes were quite closely related to the Buccleuchs. I was shown a portrait of their own Thynne ancestor, who had been the daughter of the 2nd Marquess of Bath. Despite all my gaucherie, I was still accepted as being one of them, and it was generally supposed that I would mature with age. And this was in contrast to Mark Jeffreys for example, who was regarded as standing a little way distant from their circle, and was kept at an arm's distance from them - despite the fact that he was commissioned in a regiment of the Brigade of Guards. But I too was quick to notice how he didn't really fit, and there was an aggressiveness about his personality which made him quite unpleasant at times. It seemed so odd to think that formerly, towards the end of my time at Ludgrove, he was probably to be regarded as my best friend.

Something which did make me feel a bit of an outsider was my lack of Scottish ancestry - on the Thynne side, that is to say. (Daphne had plenty of Scots blood in her veins.) But I hadn't been raised to think of myself as anything other than English and Cornish. And this was sharply in contrast to [X] who, despite having dwelt for most of her life in the West Country, regarded herself as a Scots lassie. But like so many people who have any Celtic blood at all within their veins, she found it more romantic to identify herself as coming from over the border. It all made me feel that I didn't really belong within this scene - whereas [X] belonged there very well.

It was with a heavy heart that I finally set off on the return journey back home - on my own this time, since Mark had opted to return by train. I hadn't even succeeded to extract from [X] a promise that she would attend the Life Guards' farewell ball at Combermere as my partner. It could be that she was hoping to receive her invitation from Christo Phillipson, whom she regarded as a good friend, or it could be that the bad feeling which now existed between [L] and herself dissuaded her from wanting to attend with anyone at all. But it left me in a flurry of uncertainty as to whom I should invite. And in the event, I got invitations accepted by both Venetia Murray and Rosie Cotterell - with me only managing to warn each of them at the very last moment of the slight confusion in numbers.

It was not a particularly successful evening for me. Although both of my partners (who had never met one another previously) accepted the oddity of my plans for the evening in a pleasantly jokey fashion, when I drove up to London to take them out to dinner before the ball, the tension began to mount once we got to Windsor. Venetia was soon saying that she had pains - possibly period pains - and wanted to be driven back to London immediately. But under the circumstances, I did not feel that I could oblige. What I did manage was to get her a lift back with someone who was leaving early to go to a night-club. It was an experience which might have warned me, at an early age, that monogamy has some advantages in its sheer simplicity.

But in any case, it was [X] that I was really wanting to woo. And my hopes were given a fresh boost when I received an invitation from Idina Peacock, to attend a week-end party at their home in Nottinghamshire. And on this occasion, neither [M] nor [L] were to be present; so it did strike me that I might finally be paired with [X], at her special request. But it didn't work out like that at all. Nicky Beaumont accompanied me from Combermere, but the big rival this time turned out to be Dommie Elliot, whom I had also known at Eton. Being just slightly older than myself seemed to bestow upon him all the glamour which I seemed to lack in [X]'s sight. I spent much of the week-end glowering with jealousy, watching Dommie slip through the partition door which separated my own bedroom from that of the girls, in order to chat them up with the full confidence of an adult male. In fact his whole demeanour was of someone who knew the ropes in sexual play, whereas I was constantly antagonizing [X] by the surliness of my behaviour.

The truth of the matter is that I was getting nowhere in my efforts to find copulatory pairing with a female of the species. And all this while, there were those who wondered if I were of genuinely heterosexual disposition. It even occurred to me that I might be mistaken in my own heart about such orientation. I couldn't know that I'd enjoy copulation until I had some experience behind me. But if I was so inept at persuading some girl that I fancied to think in similar terms, then it might be sensible to lose my virginity as promptly as possible with a whore. There was very little to inhibit me from such behaviour within the aristocratic culture to which I had been raised. All members of my family had long been expecting such an event to happen to me. Even [X] had expressed an eagerness to hear about any experience which I might have had with tarts. I'd say that about half the young officers from the Brigade of Guards lost their virginities in this fashion within the culture which then prevailed. And it was at The Bag of Nails where the most attractive hostesses were to be found.

Angus had for some while now been in the habit of driving up to London with such a purpose in mind, and of late had always been dating the same girl - although he still had to pay for it nonetheless. Well there came the moment when I decided to get it over and done with. So Angus agreed to introduce myself, Garry Patterson and Nipper's younger brother, and had just taken up his duties with the Regiment - to the club's proprietor on his very next visit. And that way, we were promptly made members.

Before going along to The Bag of Nails, we all had a number of drinks in some bar. I was therefore quite mellow before the ordeal even began; but I hadn't yet drunk sufficient to dispel the anxiety from my mind. That was a matter to be rectified over the course of the evening.

In point of fact Christopher had accompanied Angus on a previous visit; but in the case of both Garry and myself, this was to be our first such experience. We were seated at the far end of the room, without there being many other clients present. As far as officers from the Brigade of Guards were concerned, we were all officially in mourning - so weren't supposed to be indulging in entertainment of any kind whatsoever. As soon as Linda arrived, (the particular girl whom Angus was screwing,) they went and sat at their own table. Christopher was the next to take the plunge - picking up an attractive girl called Denise. Then it occurred to me that the longer I waited, the less of a choice there would be. So I hurriedly stumbled over to Pat, the only pretty one remaining, who turned out to be from Ireland. And Garry finally had to be content with one that was left over.

I found conversation difficult - although that was no fault of hers. It was simply that I didn't know how to handle the situation. It was solemn talk - about regimental duties and Anglo-German relations: also about the King's funeral, and how I wasn't really supposed to be doing things of this kind so recently after he had been buried. She thought that it might pass unnoticed I remember. There were times when the conversation simply dried up. And the less we talked, the more I drank. The bottle of brandy was soon half empty. I suppose she had her instructions to get the customer on to his second bottle before there should be any talk of leaving the place. On several occasions she urged me to offer a glass to members of the band, on the grounds that they were beginning to look weary. I was too unsure of what social custom required of a man in my position, that I felt unable to refuse her demands.

Meanwhile her friend Denise, whom Christopher had picked up, had signalled her to follow her out to the ladies' room; and when they returned, I noticed how she was regarding me with an increased interest. She had been informed no doubt, that she was about to lay the son of the Marquess of Bath - which gave me a certain curiosity value, I suppose. She had probably heard how it was to be my first copulation too, since I can hardly suppose that my friends had been deceived into thinking otherwise.

As soon as Pat had persuaded me to buy that second bottle of brandy, the tactics changed. She knew that she'd never get me on to a third, so her concern now was to maintain me in a fit state of consciousness to drive her back home. By this time however, I was enjoying myself: even inspired by the idea that I was a brilliant dancer, waltzing her round the floor until a stumble nearly put me down on the floor. She did then manage to prevail upon me to take her back to her flat - although as we went round Hyde Park Corner, we were stopped by a policeman who sprang towards the car from out of the darkness, for I remember not what traffic misdemeanour. I was definitely drunk, but I can only suppose that my speech was still relatively clear, in that he let me drive on with a verbal warning.

The copulation itself was disappointing. The zest had departed from me during the drive home, and I felt uncertain about formalities concerning who was supposed to undress the first, when the cheque should be written, and all that kind of thing. On top of all that, I was beginning to feel ill. In fact I never came to a satisfactory orgasm in our love-making, in that I had to scramble out of bed to be sick; and neither of us felt particularly amorous after that. But in the early hours of the next morning, I wrote out the cheque for £10 as requested, and then surmounted my hangover sufficiently to drive back to Windsor in time to be on Squadron Parade. Despite the relative inadequacy of my performance, I still felt triumphant in that I had finally managed to shed my virginity - at the belated age of nineteen that is to say.

My nerves a jitter in a makeshift calm front,
the stunt of rising on two stilted legs
to beg the lady's presence beside me, dries
my red blood. But now the die is cast!
Elastic in my agitation, I play the braggart
and swagger stumbling in a shackled waltz, courting
thoughts of fondling her naked flesh, enmeshed
in a net of sudden obligated coition.
Fished freshly from separate oceans, and grossly
foreign - one to the other - the deed gets done,
and the money, on sordid demand, is handed over
to fill bills spilling from her treasure trove.
But now the carnal taste is on my tongue,
I'll celebrate that life has just begun!

The girl with whom I came the nearest to developing a romantic relationship during these last months before we all moved to Germany, was my childhood friend Lady Caroline Childe-Villiers; a distant cousin in effect, in that her deceased father was the Earl of Jersey - from the same stock as the 2nd Viscount Weymouth's mother had been. I hadn't greatly liked Caroline whenever we met during the war years, and she'd been far more my brother's friend than mine; but I'd had rather greater success with her at the dinner before the Rothermere's dance, just before I began my National Service. So it was with some excitement that I joined up with Charlie Morrison and Lawrence Kelly in a night out up in London, in the company of her, Sara Long and Anabelle Stewart. And this formula for an outing was repeated on two other occasions.

Nothing of any significance ever took place between Caroline and myself, although this was largely due to the circumstances of always being in other peoples' company. I feel sure that we would both have appreciated it if the opportunity had presented itself. As it is, we had to make do with memories merely of dancing close to one another at The Carousel - which fell short even of a first kiss. The move to Germany left us with insufficient time for significant amorous development.

© The Marquess of Bath 1999 Clauses & Disclaimer