A class act

I happened to be in the same space as the Lord Lieutenant of South Yorkshire the other evening. I knew he was arriving and I knew he had arrived.

There were no fanfares, no red carpet, yet his bearing and clothes clearly defined his status. The dark blue double breasted blazer with light gray trouser, set off with white shirt and emblematic tie said the man was in casual dress. But he was elegant. He manifested status and, as he walked away in casual conversation with his hosts, his hands found their way behind him to clasp themselves suggestive of breeding and bearing.

Not bad for a man born and bred in Barnsley. And who still lives here. He is a simple Mr. Mr David Moody. He took the job after the resignation of Lord Scarborough. But he displayed the pose and poise of someone of the upper class. I want to know more of this fellow. He was a charming and diplomatic representative of the crown.

As they left the building, they had won a raffle prize. A large tin of Miniature Heroes was the gift they could have taken home to round off a splendid night of theatre where they had seen the best and very splendid LYTE (Lamproom Youth Theatre Ensemble).

But they gave the goodies to be shared amongst the company of children who had entertained them. I could feel the Fawltiesque capitulation in the presence of true class as when the gullible and guiless Basil Fawlty offers Lord Melbury an aperitif, on the house, and who then only asks for a dry sherry. "What else?" replies the overwhelmed host.

Pure class.