A World of My Own Read Online Free PDF

against going to India as ‘there’s nothing to be done about that place.’
    On my second night at his house I returned at about four in the morning after dancing—an extraordinarything for me to do—at a small party. An old friend had tried to teach me to waltz and then less successfully to tango. When I returned to Home’s house I found the lights on in his bedroom, and the manservant sweeping the floor. The chandelier had fallen and shattered.
    ‘Lucky it didn’t fall on your head,’ I remarked.
    ‘That goes without saying,’ Sir Alec replied with a kind of cold satisfaction.
    I went to rescue my pyjamas from the newly washed laundry that the manservant had hung out to dry, and in doing so (I don’t really know how) I managed to get Sir Alec’s pyjamas stuck up with Scotch tape.
    Perhaps because of this I left the house and made my way towards Trinity College. At the corner of the Broad the rain came down in torrents. I must have lost my way, for I found myself in a kind of shell-hole surrounded by water. There seemed to be some soil a few feet away, but when Ralph Richardson, who happened to be nearby, offered to test the ground he disappeared below the water. I could see the top of his head several inches down. He emerged again complaining that it was very cold. I managed to jump onto the dry soil, however.
    I walked on a little way and Sir Alec joined me. He must have heard me leave, but very soon we were both in a hole again. The situation was sostrange that I began to make notes of what was happening, but the only paper available was in the form of white one-inch-square cards that Sir Alec carried. They seemed inadequate for writing, but apparently it was the custom to use them in the Foreign Office—perhaps a custom instituted by Lord Halifax, for I found his name in embossed letters on one of them.
    All in all a weekend which I would prefer not to repeat.
Edward Heath
    I once passed an agreeable evening with another prime minister, Edward Heath. Heath asked me about Chile and I described Salvador Allende to him and spoke of the good impression I had of the Communists in his government.
    I lent Heath the typescript of a new novel I had written and he read it at intervals during the evening.
    We went on to a pub and an old man spoke to Heath of his son who was in the army, and how he wished to have him at home for some family celebration. Heath introduced himself—rather quaintly, I thought—‘I am the Right Honourable Edward Heath.’ He asked for the son’s militarynumber, but the old man couldn’t remember it. Heath told him to telephone his secretary the next day and everything would be arranged. To my surprise I found myself liking Heath very much.
    Heath, it seemed, had been looking for an ambassador to Scotland, but no one wanted to accept the post. He even asked me and I refused. However when I read in the paper that no one else would accept, I went to him and told him I was ready to be appointed after all.
    He looked exhausted and a little suspicious of me, so I explained that the only reason I had at first refused was that I felt incapable. But I would do my best. Perhaps as a mark of friendship we went swimming together in a muddy river, and to show keenness for my job I suggested we should hold a World Textile Fair in Scotland. He replied that David Selznick had once told him that such fairs might possibly do good in the long run, but that the last one had ruined many small local industries.
Yuri Andropov
    It must have been about seven years after my meeting with Khrushchev that I encountered Yuri Andropov, at that time head of the KGB. He had recovered from his sickness and come to London on his wayto Stockholm for a disarmament conference. He honoured me by making use of my services for note-taking. I liked him. He was an immensely tall man and there was something wrong with his right hand, which was apt to flap in a disconsolate way. I remember he told me of his great admiration for