SO, there we were on our way to the Glyndebourne Opera Festival. My old chum Charlie had assembled a fine crowd to join him and Mrs Charlie for the evening. We were travelling from many starting points, picnic baskets groaning with fine comestibles – the composition of which we’d been given strict instructions about – and cool boxes crammed with champagne, chablis and Coronas. We were in high spirits and all was well until… disaster.
I was in Charlie’s car, bombing happily along the M25, when he took a call
