Like so many others, I was shocked and saddened to learn of the untimely death of Lord Jeffrey Archer, the novelist, politician and former prisoner.His books brought pleasure to millions of readers and earned millions of pounds for him and his delightful wife, Mary.The last time I saw them was in the rose garden of No10, at an anniversary celebration for the University of Buckingham. Mary was its proud and committed Chancellor. Clemmie earned her MBA in Leadership from Buckingham.Mary was pleased to hear that, and told me so as we chatted.Jeffrey challenged my dementia diagnosis because my memory proved unexpectedly good when we discussed things we had seen and experienced together during the Thatcher era.Of course, he will also be remembered for his libel case against the Daily Star over allegations about his private life, the newspaper’s appeal and his subsequent imprisonment for perjury and perverting the course of justice.The trial is also remembered for the summing-up by the judge, Lord Justice Caulfield. He referred to Mary Archer in the witness box and asked the jury, rhetorically, whether she was not fragrant. Nevertheless, the jury convicted her husband.His death brought back a flood of other memories.Jeffrey and Mary held annual Christmas parties in their glorious penthouse overlooking the Thames, next to the MI6 headquarters in Vauxhall, London.The walls were decorated with hugely valuable paintings, ranging from Warhol to Matisse and Canaletto. And, of course, there was the Picasso next to the loos!Jeffrey famously served Krug champagne to wash down shepherd’s pie. He also engaged a fabulous choir to lead the carol singing.Over the years, the great and the good attended, from show business, business and politics. In more recent years, there was something of a boycott.We always enjoyed the parties. Jeffrey gave every guest a cheese to take home as they left. He was a generous host, and he was also very generous to many charities.He was one of the most sought-after auctioneers for charitable causes, raising hundreds of thousands of pounds. He and his assistant, the art dealer Chris Beetles, would ask for a list of attendees beforehand and do their homework. They knew how to target each person with a mixture of humour and well-aimed probing.Another memory came back to me. I was giving lunch to my friend Peter, now Lord Lilley, at Marco Pierre White’s Mirabelle restaurant when Jeffrey swept in and joined us.He asked what we were drinking. I showed him an ordinary claret, whereupon he promptly ordered Château Pétrus.It was sublime!