Where are the Mew Gulls of the C21st? Why don't the current crop of Bright Young Things - who've got more cash then their equivalents in 1930 - combine partying with overwintering in Greenland any more?
The last weeks – the first weeks of August and Mollie's engagement – were a hectic time for everyone. Final stores were bought, equipment was packed, the two Gypsy Moth aeroplanes were crated, and Scott was sent on ahead of the rest of the expedition to buy fifty sled dogs in West Greenland where there was a better breed than in the East. As it happened to be the height of the London season, there were countless parties to be fitted in too. Watkins would go to two or three dances in one night and run home in the early morning for exercise. A little later, spruce and dapper in his double-breasted suit with smooth hair and rolled umbrella, he would be driving his old two-seater Morris to the Royal Geographical Society or down to the London docks. A few days before the expedition sailed, a wild and glorious treasure-hunt was run round the West End in ancient sports cars, with August and Mollie laying the clues.
From The Man on the Ice Cap: the life of August Courtauld, by Nicholas Woollaston (Constable, 1980), which is a good and bad book.
If ever you put me in a time machine and asked me to organise a right-wing coup in early postwar Britain, I would have August Courtauld around the table – along with 'Buster' Crabbe and Alistair Mars – before you could say 'Luttwak'.