TALE OF ALEXANDER'S TABLE

June 91: We saw Birkhill Castle under brilliant sunshine and under a spider's metallic net where Henry and cousins played some deadly Tarzan game.

Winter 91 : My boss changed my job and put me 'on Kent', but .... from Lille! How strange .... I didn't understand that: February 92 I drive fast to Kent.

Brakes were not sufficient to stop me in Maidstone and, once more, I went to London to check with my watch if Big Ben is on time.

It was.

But, behind another spider's metallic net around Victoria Tower, Houses of Parliament, reminded me of Birkhill.

At tower's foot, peers' door, who saw I?

Our Chief!

"What are you doing here. Claude?"

- I have to report about Kent for my newspaper.

- Is London in Kent?

- No, my Lord.

- Is Dover in Kent?

- Yes, my Lord.-.

- So for lunch we have Dover sole.

Suddenly I was propelled under that historic roof between a grey rolling Thames under a light breeze, and solid oil paintings of peers in their eternal dark oak frames. In front of me: the best Lord in the House. On my plate: the best sole of my life. To finish: a large bowl of fruit salad .... totally like Birkhill's one.

Finally, it was half past two o'clock by Big Ben when our Chief went back on his red seat for House business.

During the meal we talk about children, gathering, Scotland, Clan and other "warm".

Things, between a Dover sole and draughts of white wine. Kent wine? No! French wine!

The article about Kent is finished, published and forgotten.

The work of our Chief is not finished.

When my wife, Renee, serves fish, I remember a certain House of Peer's sole: the fish of Friendship.

C.-A. Glaster