On Friday at the Hurlingham Club there was an important golf croquet match, the Ramsis Cup, the Egyptians playing a group of the worldwide best (The Rest of the World), apart from them of course. Mrs Croquet was on hand to try to explain the rules to me. Sadly lost on me. Needless to say it is sport involving hitting coloured balls with a mallet through hoops on a grass court.

Reg Bamford, reputed to be the best player in the world (currently no. 1 in WCF Golf Croquet), admired Domino, my Italian greyhound. I was standing beside the court and he turned from the boundary to make the comment. As far as I am concerned Domino is the world’s most beautiful Italian greyhound. A tad overweight, but so was Reg.

Mrs Croquet pointed out that the British Empire took croquet to Egypt. And even after the Suez Canal crisis and the end of British occupation in 1956, the land of the pyramids continued to hit balls through hoops. And they do so very well. The impact of the British Empire may be controversial, but surely bringing sports, like cricket and croquet, to countries is a good thing.

Most of the weekend was taken up with a stellar 50^th birthday party in West Sussex, at the beautiful home of, code name, Mr and Mrs America. There is another American couple, code name Mr and Mrs California, who also throw the best parties imaginable. Now that they have relocated back to Los Angeles, they are harder to attend. Both hubbies are derivatives traders owning their own banks.

The theme for the Saturday night bash was Vintage Hollywood Glamour. The caterers Rhubarb were behind the scenes producing mouth-watering food. Canapés and pink champagne on the terrace. In a marquee – sea food on shoulder high silver platters, followed by lamb for main course and pudding served on an art deco style silver bar by the dance floor.  In the centre of the room was a glass like pond. They had built the marquee around a real lily pond. After the speeches, just when you didn’t think it would get any better, the curtains opened behind the dance floor to reveal a swing band. In the Mood kicked off the dancing. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I turned to find the ex-principal for the Royal Ballet, Darcy Bussell, dancing with her husband beside me.

It was a great night, followed by brunch the next morning. Some had stayed up to 4am dancing. Someone jumped in the pond. Inevitable!

The next evening I sat down to watch a DVD of Mr and Mrs America’s 20^th anniversary party in Venice, in January 2010, which we were lucky enough to attend. Thirty couples, for two nights, at the Gritti Palace on the Grand Canal. Water taxis in, guided tours the next morning, lunch at the Danielli with Canaletto views from the roof top, and leading up to the main event on the Saturday night. The women were presented with heavy velvet capes and decorative masks. The men with pointed black hats and ghostly masks (bautas, covering the whole face). Gondolas glided us down the canal to a magnificent palazzo and we had the meal of a life time, opera performances and dancing to the wee hours. This is the stuff of dreams and Mr and Mrs America and Mr and Mrs California have treated us to slices of heaven.

Back to reality this morning. I have a lot of housework.