Effing fairy cakes

Sir Richard Steele

It’s named for the first father of English journalism. Steele (1672-1729) was a Dublin-born protestant who grew up in Fulham and lived in a cottage on the site where the pub now is — there is a gorgeous stained glass window of him in the main bar. He — deep breath — founded The Tatler, The Spectator and The Englishman (where he published the memoir which was the source of Robinson Crusoe). He’d fill his letters pages with letters he’d written to the editor — ie himself. He invented the theatre review. He married a sugar heiress. He was an MP. He nearly killed a man in a duel. He met his second wife at his first wife’s funeral. He was surveyor of the Royal stables and head of the commission charged with selling off the estates of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s supporters. He died in Wales.

His best-known remarks include:

* ‘Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body.’

* ‘No man was ever so completely skilled in the conduct of life, as not to receive new information from age and experience…’

* ‘When you fall into a man's conversation, the first thing you should consider is, whether he has a greater inclination to hear you, or that you should hear him.’

A patron saint to us all, then. Well, to some of us anyway. Me, at least. Certainly, he’d have been first on the launch invite list. As he wasn’t . . .

I have learned that the best way to put an invite list together for a party is to do it the same way you’d prepare a bride’s outfit. You mix something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

Drink was drunk (and drunk). Talk was talked (and talked). There was cake — tiny fairy ones arranged on a table to spell out FUCK. As the evening wore on and the cakes were eaten, the remaining cakes were re-arranged to spell new words.

Books were sold, bought and signed. Many books, to my intense relief and delight. Anxious about being left with unsold piles, only a few dozen were brought along. They’d gone within half an hour. So the people looking after the book stall (thanks Doro, Dot, Sheila and anyone else who helped out) took orders and money for several dozen more. If you’re one of those who ordered, your book (with its dedication) will be with you very soon. You will also get your free CD — a soundtrack to the book’s popular music chapter. (I’ll post the tracklisting here at some point.)

One speech was made. Mine. It wasn’t very good. I thanked a few people. I made a joke — I think. I thanked some more people, pointing one or two out. I got down off the table. My son pointed out that I’d forgotten to thank my wife, Jennifer. I got back on the table, thanked her and stood down. It was pointed out that I’d forgotten to thank the rest of my family. I got back up, did the thanks, got down. It was pointed out that I’d forgotten to thank the family dog, Bear. Fuck him, I said. He’ll have to make do with the one I gave him in the book’s acknowledgments.