Without Reservation by Jeremy King

Author:Jeremy King [King, Jeremy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2025-10-09T00:00:00+00:00

I certainly couldn’t have captured the feeling of that day better myself. It is important to remember, however, that this is effectively a snapshot; a few frames from a movie that plays every day with an ever-changing cast but with the same scenery. Except, of course, the truth is that it is the clientele and staff who really are the scenery as well as the lead actors.

Friends can sometimes be foes – and still remain beloved

My early encounters singled out Adrian Gill as, well, dare I say it, a bit of a prat. With his tartan plus fours, deer-stalker and monocle, I was happy to avoid him. I should add that most drunks filled me with antipathy. Not all, though – I have always been very fond of writer Peter Ackroyd, who happened to buy the house I was living in at The Angel, Islington. This was Duncan Terrace, which he was proud to have single-handedly managed to rename ‘Drunken Terrace’. Although my patience nearly gave out on him after he almost drank himself to death. It was on the occasion of him being rushed to hospital in 1999 and lapsing into a coma due to a heart attack resulting from the pummelling he had given his body over the years. I then found myself in charge of the hospital support obligations as ‘family’, and on arriving at the hospital asking the matron if I could have a word with him. ‘I’m not sure he’ll hear you,’ she replied, and I suppose she anticipated that I would whisper soft words of love and encouragement as opposed to the ‘You fucking idiot – I told you this would happen if you carried on this way – it’s all your own fault’ that I yelled at him (I used to swear in those days). Peter claimed afterwards that he remembered me shouting at him and rather enjoyed it.

There were others for whom I retained tolerance, love and understanding, with Peter Langan being a good example. Terence Baker being another. Terence was a theatrical and TV agent/producer who perjured himself on behalf of Jeffrey Archer not long before a premature death at fifty-two – the cursed drink being the culprit. I smile, though, at the memory of Terence one night cycling through the front door of a still-full Le Caprice at 12.15 a.m., and was still on his bike when he got to the rear of the restaurant and found me. ‘Dinner for one and my bike, Jeremy, my good man!’ And having been told it was too late and the kitchen was closed he asked what the time was. On hearing he stared at his watch (my memory is of an old-fashioned Rolex), then took it off shouting, ‘Fucking useless watch.’ Then having attracted the attention of the restaurant, he proceeded to stamp on it until it smashed and rode off back through the restaurant. They could be fun …

But I digress. This chapter is about one particular man who managed to

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.