In the autumn of 1925 my father did strike a winner. A short, round, soulful-eyed Polish Jew came to see us. His name was Stambois and he was trying to sell some quite exceptional old Brandies. They were so expensive that no one Stambois had tried would buy them; but my father took a gamble.

The Brandies were Louis XVIII 1820, Roi de Roma 1811, Napoleon I 1802 from the Palais de Compiégne, Reserve Royale 1925 from the Czar Alexander I's Summer Palace in the Crimea, Bignon (the famous Paris restauranteur) 1800, Grande Fine Champagne not less than 115 years old from the cellars of Marshal Ney, Napoleon, Palais des Tuileries 1818 and Marie Antoinette 1789 from the Palais de Versailles.

That Christmas my father once more paid £100 to clear my overdraft, wrote me a not very nice letter ending : 'I hope you have a happy Christmas on the money you have not got', and, shortly afterwards, went off with my mother to the South of France.

I then also took a gamble. In the twenties wine merchants' lists had many pages but were rarely more than six by four inches in size; normally the best Brandy one could buy was Hennessy, Martell or John Barnet at 35/- per bottle. I designed and had printed a catalogue with gold lettering on thick brown paper, ten by eight inches in size but having only eight pages. Each page had a brief essay of two or three hundred words describing the historic associations of one of the Brandies, illustrated with coats of arms, branded corks, and so on. The prices ranged from two and a half guineas a bottle to £100 per dozen.

That catalogue was the most costly ever produced in the wine trade. I had not written a word to my father about what I had done and was pretty scared about what his reaction might be. When he got home the catalogues had just been delivered. On my showing him one he gave me a very queer look but neither praised nor condemned me.

We sent the catalogues out. On the morning they were delivered Lord Wilton, who had never even bought a siphon of soda from us, sent his man along with a £100 cheque for a dozen of the Marie Antoinette. Then the orders poured in. Of some of the Brandies we had only a limited stock so we were soon sold out, but of others, particularly the Tuileries 1818, Stamboul had a large quantity.

Most of the bottles had what were then unusual features. The Tuileries, for example, had an embossed medallion containing an 'N' with the Napoleonic crown above it. But what really mattered was that the old Fine Champagne Cognacs in them were truly superb. I have never tasted finer. But in a year or two imitations were appearing in every restaurant. The bottles had the 'N' medallion and were often covered with fake cobwebs; but the brandy in them was indifferent stuff. Whenever a waiter produced one at my table I used to say : 'Take it away. Bring me some John Barnett or Delamain.' Unintentionally, I had started the old Brandy racket.

'Drink and Ink' pp 57-59.