Portobello Gold (Portobello Road)

Tracey Samantha Lord (High Society)

Who wants to be a millionaire? Well, clearly nobody nowadays. Darling, a billion is the entry point.

Anyway, thanks to the empowerment of women (divorce laws), you don’t need to be one - a billionaire that is - just marry one ... or two, or, if you’re really focussed, a few. But who’s counting? Not me, that’s for sure.

You’ll recall that I always was a gutsy girl - my own bachelor party with Satchmo as the entertainment; skinny dipping with a crooning Frank Sinatra; jilting my second fiance for my first (darling Bing) at the alter; and all in just 24 hours.

So, working through husbands holds no fear. Once they’ve done the “I love you Samantha and my love will never die ...” bit, I can pretty much write my own banker’s draft to a numbered account in one of my favourite tax havens.

Even the bad press in Vanity and Harpers ceases to register after a while. Of course, back in my Philadelphia days, they were good upstanding Americans but times change, and with them, the nationalities.

I’ve done boys from pretty much every continent (except Australasia - really, just the thought of it). My current squeeze is a charming little Oligarch with a dozen dachas, a football club, a couple of oil companies and some rather fine mineral deposits in various strong boxes in various locations.

It’s all about going global. Which is why I love London. It attracts the monied-classes from around the world. Admittedly, the weather’s not as good as Monaco, but you’ve got more minor Royals per squre foot here. So Londres is my hunting ground and any of you who keep an eye on the society pages will be familiar with my favourite haunts.

However, even a party-girl like me needs to take time out. So I’ll stroll from my Notting Hill conservatory (that bloody film-maker has ruined the area, although real estate values have done well) to my local, the Portobello Gold. Not exactly High Society, you might say, but I like it. It’s not traditional.

Well did you ever? What a swell boozer this is! You see, whilst I’ve developed into a full-figured woman, I do like a pint now and then. And the ‘Gold’ offers some good company. Of course, you have to pick your time, as the tourists tend to come in thick and fast, not helped by the back-packer rooms upstairs at the pub. Despite this, it gets my vote as a place to stretch ones recently-waxed man traps and settle for a quick snorter before the next round of soirées.

It’s even got a little brasserie thing going-on in the back, if you’re feeling peckish. With excellently-priced, flavoursome grub. So, pick the down season and avoid market days but do give it a whirl.

Enough said, must dash, I’ve got to pick-up the tiara from Asprey’s; check-out the new knicker collection at Agent; and meet the lawyer about the pre-nups. A plus tard, darlings.

Tracey Samantha Lord's rating for the Gold - 8 / 10

Dick DuGras

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• Natural Selection,..

  “,….. Why didn’t they live to be 100?Huh? Well, they woz running round all day, hunting mammoths, eating berries,..rumping their little hearts out. No boozing or smoking. They must have been fit as fiddles. Yer Neanderthalls……….I’ll tell you why, it’s … Continue reading →