Uncle Tommy’s marriage to my mother coincided with my sixth birthday. I did everything I could to wreck the show, fidgeting and picking my nose, till an aquiline creature, later identified as the famous Margot Asquith, knelt down in the aisle to comfort me. I decided she was a witch and again and again informed the congregation in a shrill treble of this discovery. I was removed and Uncle Tommy, forever politically sensitive, treated me from that moment on with frosty distaste.
David Niven – The Moon’s a Balloon