the prospect of
newpor
A N II N V II T A T II O N T O
t
2008BY BERTIE NIX
Of all the very best reasons to never ride-off, their place in history! And what better event to Fuggles, and a cold beer by our hosts William
hook or impede the Chairman on the polo undertake such a challenge than at the annual and Lowie Crisp. Before we settled in, we raced
field at Ham, top of the list is surely the Polo International spectacular – England Vs to the ocean (under the fence of one of the
prospect of an invitation to Newport… USA, to be held that coming Saturday. many beach-clubs) and into the ever-so-cold
sea, to wash off the stench of World Traveller.
For those of you not fortunate enough to have
these damn
visited, the first thing that strikes you is that it is
reassuringly British. With a ‘Real Tennis Court’
americ
ans
Time to change and not much else, and we
were off to dinner and to meet our co-hosts
in the centre of town, an abundance of knee
weren’t afraid to put
and opponents: Dan and Agnes Keating. The
high socks and shorts, and a passion for sailing
their mouths where their
British are no strangers to psychological warfare
second only to the Isle of White, Newport is
money is –
– yet we were not prepared for the verbal
a reminder of our once glorious past and the
most definitely
drubbing we received over horse-trough sized
legacy of colonialism we stamped on the world. Margaritas. The battle had commenced, and
o
in a pint sized
whilst grazing on a spread of tortillas, fajitas
-
t
w
Almost certainly for this reason alone our
martini glass
and enchiladas we learnt of Team USA’s
American cousin’s cling on to it with maniacal unbeaten track-record in the International
i
r
t
y
t
h fervour, adorning shop fronts, houses and Series and the overwhelming horse and man-
public works (entirely built at the direction Navigating backwater streets awash with super- power they possessed!
of the English) with a panoply of flags, banners sized tummies and gargantuan bottoms, we
and bunting sufficient to create the impression made for the safest of safe-havens: a little piece The other thing we learnt, as we collectively
of an everlasting 4th July. of England, our own private embassy, Casa Crisp zig-zagged the high-street to the now infamous
– an ocean-going, nuclear-powered, house-of- Zelda’s Bar, was that these damn Americans
So it was that Olympia and I rolled into town, a-house, just on the edge of town. When we aren’t afraid to put their mouths where
incognito in our open-top, scarlet-red Ford arrived at the homestead we were welcomed their money is – most definitely in a pint-sized
Mustang, keen to remind the now natives of by Annie and Nick, given a huge wet lick… by Martini glass.
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56 |
Page 57 |
Page 58 |
Page 59 |
Page 60 |
Page 61 |
Page 62 |
Page 63 |
Page 64 |
Page 65 |
Page 66 |
Page 67 |
Page 68 |
Page 69 |
Page 70 |
Page 71 |
Page 72