The way we were

HIGH SPIRITS

An extract from The Book of Days (1864) by Robert Chambers describes the first regatta in Britain, 23rd June 1775

Early in the afternoon, the river, from London Bridge to Millbank, was crowded with pleasure boats, and scaffolds, gaily decorated with flags… Half-a-guinea was asked for a seat in a coal-barge; and vessels fitted for the purpose drove a brisk trade in refreshments of various kinds. The avenues to Westminster Bridge were covered with gaming-tables, and constables guarded every passage to the water, taking from half-a-crown to one penny for liberty to pass. Soon after six o’clock, concerts were held under the arches of Westminster Bridge, and a salute of twenty-one cannons announced the arrival of the Lord Mayor. A race of wager-boats followed, and then the procession moved in picturesque irregularity to Ranelagh… About 200,000 persons were supposed to be on the river at one time.

The company arrived at Ranelagh at nine o’clock, where they joined those who came by land in a new building, called the Temple of Neptune. This was a temporary octagon, lined with stripes of white, red, and blue cloth, and having lustres hanging between each pillar. Supper and dancing followed, and the entertainment did not conclude till the next morning. Many accidents occurred when the boats were returning after the fete, and seven persons were unfortunately drowned.

Francis Kilvert, a curate in Radnorshire, writes in his diary, June 1870

In Gander Lane we saw in the banks some of the “Midsummer Men” plants which my Mother remembers the servant maids and cottage girls sticking up in their houses and bedrooms on Midsummer Eve for the purpose of divining about their sweethearts.

Two plants of “Midsummer Men,” the large pinkish-crimson sedum, were needed for divination. If they bent together during the night, the man and the woman would marry; if not, not.

English author EM Delafield writes in her diary, 23rd June 1930

Tennis-party at wealthy and elaborate house, to which Robert and I now bidden for the first time. (Also probably the last.) Immense opulence of host and hostess at once discernible in fabulous display of deck-chairs, all of complete stability and miraculous cleanliness. Am introduced to youngish lady in yellow, and serious young man with horn-rimmed spectacles. Lady in yellow says at once that she is sure I have a lovely garden. (Why?)

Elderly, but efficient-looking, partner is assigned to me and we play against the horn-rimmed spectacles and agile young creature in expensive crepe-de-chine. Realise at once that all three play very much better tennis than I do. Still worse, realise that they realise this. Just as we begin, my partner observes gravely that he ought to tell me he is a left-handed player. Cannot imagine what he expects me to do about it, lose my head, and reply madly that That Is Splendid.

Game proceeds. I serve several double-faults, and elderly partner becomes graver and graver. At beginning of each game he looks at me and repeats score with fearful distinctness, which, as it is never in our favour, entirely unnerves me. At “Six-one” we leave the court and silently seek chairs as far removed from one another as possible.

Conservative politician Alan Clark writes in his diary, 23rd June 1983

It’s not yet eight o’clock and already I’ve been in my office [in Westminster] half an hour. I like to get here early, before anyone else arrives, then I can scowl at them through the communicating doorway as they take their places around the outer office. I am still so ignorant of the basic material that this is one of the few ways I can start to assert an ascendancy.

It is (naturally and heartbreakingly) a glorious summer morning, and I have drawn back to their maximum extent the sliding windows, thus buggering up or—I trust—partially buggering the air conditioning system. There is a tiny balcon, a gutter really, with a very low parapet, below knee height. Certain death on the Victoria Street pavement eight floors below. Sometimes I get a wild urge to relieve my bladder over it, splattingly on the ant-like crowds. Would this get one the sack? Probably not. It would have to be hushed up.