Miriam at the Seder night

Miriam was a very well preserved Jewish lady of considerable intellect and wonderful dry humour. Tonight she was the very picture of sophistication as she wafted in, aimed a quick peck at my left cheek and elegantly draped her fur-lined gown over my outstretched arm. She made straight for the arms of Morry, who was so surprised that he nearly dropped his tray of hors d'oeuvres.

A friend of Morry and Dolly since the days of the Brady Club in the war years, Miriam was now one of Morry's golf foursome, who met religiously every Monday at the Hainault golf club. The other two were Sadie and David, another two old friends and who were also invited tonight but were yet to make an appearance.

Miriam had by now planted herself on the comfiest armchair in the lounge and had pulled out an extra-long Dunhill that she proceeded to light with an emerald encrusted silver lighter. Crossing her legs elegantly, she arched her head back and blew smoke rings across the heavily laden dinner table. She sat alone, she wasn't one for chit-chat. A formidable lady was Miriam, and she knew it.