My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleyone of the numerous doors, with the clandestine objective of a journey to London. Amixed assortment of old cars used to carry a merry company the relatively shortdistance. Not much harm was done beyond a certain fatigue on early parade nextmorning after a night without sleep. The tendency was to stay with the gang and toengage in pranks rather than any form of vice. A pastime in true corinthian traditionwas to see how long it would take the stout array of ex-pugilists who acted aschuckers-out at music halls like the Empire to execute their genial duties. There wasnot much drinking, but a lot of good-humoured fooling.The only time I was well and truly drunk in my life was at Sandhurst, and I never feltany inclination to repeat the unattractive experience; it happened by accident ratherthan design. For some celebration we assembled a large and jolly dinner party inSkindle's Restaurant at Maidenhead. The scene was idyllic to young eyes as welooked across the noble sweep of lawn illumined by distant lighting of trees andflowers to the glistening stream of moon-lit Thames. I began to feel on top of theworld as the wine circulated with a freedom which was novel to a boy of seventeen.Some more practised hand also supplied liqueurs, and the sense of being on top of theworld was gradually transmuted into a certain reversal of roles; I felt there was somedanger of the world being on top of me. Fate guided my footsteps toward the fresh airof the garden. I had a last moment of joie de vivre as I began to descend— airborne—the steps which led to the lawn, but the exquisite flower bed beneath rose then fromevery side to embrace me in a clasp of the gods. I awoke next morning in my bed atSandhurst, feeling the world was very much on top of me.I learnt later that my companions had raised me from my floral tomb and placed me inthe car of a friend, who turned out to be almost as much the worse for wear as I was.He succeeded, however, in driving back to Sandhurst with me inert in the back, butunfortunately then forgot where either of us lived. The result was that he droverapidly round the parade ground wrestling with these fugitive memories, and waseventually flagged down by the Sergeant of the Guard who was aroused by the noise.The sergeant was a kindly fellow who recognised us both and had us carried without aword said to our apartments. There would have been a great row if it had come out.At Sandhurst I returned to my first love, horses. The year between leaving Winchesterand arriving there, except for the brief interlude at Brest, had ruptured my relationswith the fencing world and checked my interest. My Heathcote grandfather hadcelebrated the beginning of my military career by assisting me to get an old horsewith a tube, who was unsuccessful in steeplechases but might be good enough forlocal point-to-point; he also promised to help with one or two polo ponies. At thesame tune my father's short sojourn at Rolleston with a fair supply of money hadenabled him to acquire a stable of magnificent horses which I had been allowed toride with the Meynell hounds. My enthusiasm for the world of the horse was firedagain, and fencing and boxing receded into the background.The first spring was much preoccupied by point-to-points which were strictlyforbidden to cadets, although participation in the local drag hunt was permitted. Theproblem of entry without revealing name and origin to the local press was overcomeby pseudonyms like A. N. Other, or, anticipating a mishap at an early obstacle, Mr. R.S. Upward. On my first appearance I was confronted by one of my Company officerswho was riding in the same race; a real good sort who said not a word. My efforts35 of 424