My Evening at the Lord Mayor's Banquet

I went to a banquet at the Lord Mayor of London's Mansion House as a guest of my dear friend Tony George who I traveled with through England, Sctland, Spain, Morocco and Gibraltar. When I entered the dining room a gentleman in a 17th Century frock, wig, silk stockings and tails, stamped the floor with a large standard and announced me, Mr Melvin Benoit. It seems my friend Douglas, a retired British Army Major, former commander of the Ghurka Rifles, a man on whom I had pinned his military ribbons to the lapel of his Tuxedo, with whom I became acquainted in St Thomas, USVI's, and with whom I had enjoyed a great evening of conversation in a very nice restaurant over a wonderful meal, got my name wrong so now all my mementos of that evening are under the name of Melvin.
We began the evening with cocktails at the Savoy, then, leaving their wives to fend for themselves at the Savoy, next to the theater district, we went our separate ways as this was a men's only function. I shared a cab with 3 retired British Army Majors for our trip to a small church next to the Tower of London that was first erected in 1100 AD and celebrated a mass given by the Archbishop of Canterbury. After the service we got on a private bus to Mansion House. The evening began with a Champagne reception, at which I was introduced to the Lord Major and several gentlemen who were all keen to ask me on my political opinions, I was obviously the first Republican from California they had ever met, I was amazed how many came up to me and said "here, here", I thought that stuff only happened in movies. As each course was served our wine glasses were taken away and the glass next to it refilled with the next pairing. I was seated next to a retired Professor of genetics and the London University. When he found out I was a Californian, we entered into what could be described as a very lively discussion. Across from me was a Irishman who owned a castle on a small island in the middle of a lake, but who lived in New Jersey and was involved with waste disposal. After the meal we did a "passing of the loving cup ceremony at which we would take the large silver chalice from the man facing us, take a sip , carefully wipe the rim, turn around and hand it to the man behind me who had turned to face me. Later that evening Douglas taught me how to drink good Scotch Malt and that is all I remember of the evening, awaking the next morning in his son's bed (who was out of town for christsakes!) with one of the worst hangovers of my life. Douglas had cooked a wonderful English breakfast and all I could handle was some hot coffee. I would suffer a far worse hangover anytime to share an evening in the company of so many fine men, even the retired professor about whom I could safely say doesn't care for Yanks too much anyway so my mocking his opinions, and using my best arrogant Yankee ways sarcastically laughed in his face all of which probably only reinforced his bias, especially for Republicans from California.