The death of Christine Keeler this past week at the age of 75 inevitably brought back memories of what was known as the Profumo Affair, a classic 1960s British scandal of sex, lies and politics. Add a Soviet spy, kinky parties and decadent goings-on in high society featuring an ultimately tragic osteopath named Dr Stephen Ward, and it became a huge story.
I was a teenager when the scandal broke and admit it was the first time I became remotely interested in politics. For weeks, much to my parents' dismay, I was glued to the TV news as juicy revelations kept surfacing.
The crux of the scandal was that at the height of the Cold War, Britain's War Minister John Profumo was unwittingly sharing the services of call girl Keeler with a Russian spook.
Although no secrets were passed, rumours led to Profumo lying to Parliament with a very British denial: "There was no impropriety whatsoever in my relationship with Ms Keeler." Unfortunately there was and it ultimately led to Profumo's resignation and contributed to the downfall of Harold Macmillan's government.
Although there was no Thai connection, curiously in the late 1960s at one end of the New Phetchaburi Road strip, which catered for GIs on R&R from the Vietnam War, there emerged a "Stephen Ward Massage Parlour". What an unlikely name for a Bangkok house of pleasure.
Supporting cast
At my school the two "leading ladies" in the case, Keeler and Mandy Rice-Davies, became folk heroes because they had embarrassed the Establishment. We eagerly followed Rice-Davies' court testimony and her silly hats.
When told in court that Lord Astor denied having an affair with her she famously responded: "Well, he would, wouldn't he?" prompting much mirth. She also compared herself to Lord Nelson's mistress, Lady Hamilton.
Strangely, for someone whose name is so linked with the case, she never actually met Profumo. In her later life she observed: "My life has been one long descent into respectability."
Keeler was an extremely attractive but vulnerable model. In a 1986 interview, she recalled, "I was just a 19-year-old having a good time". But she had plenty of regrets, saying things like "My life has been cursed" and, like Ward, she became a scapegoat for upsetting the powers-that-be. But there will always remain that iconic photo of her naked in the chair for which she reluctantly posed. It is a true work of art.
In 1989, a decent film was released about the affair called Scandal, in which John Hurt is outstanding as Stephen Ward, while there are lively performances from Joanne Whalley as Keeler, and Bridget Fonda playing Rice-Davies. There is also a poignant song by Dusty Springfield called Nothing Has Been Proved with lyrics noting Please Please Me's No.1, reminding us 1963 was quite a year.
Humbling experience
Last Tuesday, I had just surfaced and was enjoying a morning cup of tea when Noi (husband of my late maid Ms Yasothon) -- who still looks after the house and garden -- his 11-year-old granddaughter Nong Mot and a couple of relatives suddenly appeared.
I thought there must be some kind of problem. But then Nong Mot knelt and presented me with a beautiful phuang malai flower garland and recited a little message wishing me all the best.
Of course it was Wan Por, Father's Day, marking the late King Bhumibol's birthday. What a nice gesture.
Day trippers
Maybe Nong Mot remembers the time eight years ago when my wife and I, along with Noi, took her to the seaside for the first time. Our destination was Mae Ramphung Beach in Rayong.
Three-year-old Nong Mot was so excited about seeing the sea that after 15 minutes in the car, she seemed to be expecting the ocean to appear each time we turned a corner. I was sure that tears of impatience would soon start flowing, but thankfully she fell asleep for most of the journey.
We eventually made it to the beach and the key to the success of the trip would be Nong Mot's reaction to the sea. Much to our relief, from the moment she spotted the ocean she squealed with delight.
It was one of those rare occasions when you promise a child something and it lives up to expectations. We couldn't keep her out of the water as she splashed around in the shallows. Inevitably I got dragged into the sea and was soon behaving like a three-year-old myself. I was even sorry I had forgotten my bucket and spade.
Wish you were here
Watching Nong Mot having the time of her life had me recalling my introduction to the sea. In old photo albums, there were snaps of me at the age of three wearing some ridiculous woollen swimming trunks , clutching my father's hand, standing in 15 centimetres of water and crying my eyes out. I definitely didn't take to the salt water in the same way as Nong Mot.
The photos were probably taken in Bournemouth, which we visited every August when I was a nipper. The reason I was bawling was either because of the ridiculous outfit I was wearing, or more likely, because the seawater was bloody freezing. Certainly, dipping one's toes in the warm waters of the Gulf of Thailand is a more preferable introduction to the joys of the ocean than the English Channel.
Contact Postscript via email at oldcrutch@gmail.com