High life
A wreath too soon
Taki
t is so beautiful up here this time of year I expect Julie Andrews to pop up any moment and sing out that the hills are alive with the sound of music. It is green, cool, uncrowded and healthy. And it's free.
The last time I was in this resort I was also staying with my present host, Gianni Agnelli, and was literally run out of town. It was 1964 and the King of Greece, King Paul, was on his last legs. Gianni was in Turin working and he would ring at night and get the day's gossip. St Moritz was very lively that year as it was the only place in Europe that had had a snowfall. While gossiping away over the telephone Gianni told me that the King had had it. He meant it metaphorically and I took it literally. After hanging up I rang various Greeks and announced that the King was dead. They in turn got on to their various flunkeys in the Olive Republic and within minutes. hundreds of wreaths began to arrive in the palace of Tatoi. There was only one minor trouble. King Paul was still very much alive, and he and his strong- willed wife, Queen Frederika, did not see the joke. The rich Greeks who had attached their names to the expensive wreaths were told in no uncertain terms what the royal couple thought of their haste. .
You can imagine the rest. Tina Onassis played Sam Spade and traced the 'joke' back to me. Billionaires, and Greek bil- lionaires in particular, do not like being made fools of. They were really out for blood, and not even Avvocato Agnelli's declaration that it had been a misunder- standing made any difference. So I did the only thing one has to do in such circum- stances. I remained closeted in my room and announced that I had meant it as a joke from the start, and I would do it all over again. Then, after a decent interval, I flew back to Gstaad and walked up the various mountains.
But for any of you who may have been incarcerated in Albania for the last 50 years, a brief background of Gianni Agnel- li is in order. Although the Italian monar- chy was abolished in 1946, the crown, in reality, was simply transferred from the house of Savoy to that of Agnelli. It is not only the richest house, 30 billion smackers the last time I counted, it is the house that sets the standards in a country that worships style. And no one has more style, looks or charm than Gianni Agnelli. I first met him on the Riviera 30 years ago, and although he has always worked hard, back then he also played hard. I quickly became his Leporello.
Then we both got serious. He became Europe's numero uno tycoon, and I turned into an intellectual. We rarely saw each other as he was busy running Italy and I was hard at work on my thesis on leisure. This week, however, it was nostalgia time. Early Monday morning I drove to Florence and boarded a train for Milan. Once there I was whisked up the Engadine by an Agnelli driver and into his private Falcon jet. In two hours we had landed in Santiago de Compostela, in north-western Spain. We did a quick tour of the magnificent cathedral and then drove to the coast where we boarded probably the most beautiful sailing boat in the world, definite- ly the fastest as far as cruising sailboats are concerned. It is a 120-foot sloop, a J class aluminium beauty with a 150-foot mast that Gianni had built at Abeking Rasmus- sen this year. She has a teak deck, a light white wooden interior and a crew of ten. In very light winds we sailed at ten knots. In moderate conditions we reached 14 easily, and the boat is capable of doing 20 or perhaps even more.
The next morning we sailed down to Vigo, a wonderfully ramshackle city that reminded me of Europe before the de- velopers, where we sailed until late after- noon, when once again we boarded Gian- ni's aeroplane and in an hour and a half— due to strong winds — we had landed in St Moritz. It may sound in bad taste, but it is the only way to travel. Last week I made a valiant effort to fly to London in order to meet loyal Spectator readers, and not only did I get stuck in 'Pisa airport for more than three hours, I also crashed my brand new car trying to be on time. I truly regret not meeting some of you, but it wasn't for lack of trying. What I should have done is call Gianni. Now there's a man the airlines have never pushed around.
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