The man who gave us Concord

There was an impressive birthday bash in London this week for Haymarket Publishing, the magazine stable established and chaired by Michael Heseltine, the former minister and doyen of past Conservative Party conferences.

The 800-strong guest list - apart from your’s truly, included presumably as a columnist for one of the Haymarket magazines - read like a Who’s Who of the establishment from the 1960s and 1970s. The place was full of Tory grandees from the Thatcher years.

In addition to Hezza there was John Major (Mazza), Lord Carrington (Cazza), Michael Howard (Hozza) and Tom King (Kizza). Francis Pym was too ill to be there. So Pizza was off.

Lady Thatcher herself was absent, which was not a surprise. I don’t know whether or not she had an invitation.

Among the sea of grey hair there was David Frost, Michael Parkinson, Jeremy Isaacs, Stirling Moss, even Mary Quant whose hair, as you might expect, is not grey. I'm surprised that Quant, once described by Bernard Levin as the "high priestess of sixties fashion," is still awaiting a damehood.

Hezza gave an excellent speech with some good jokes. He reminded the audience that the political journalist Tony Howard, used to refer to his old employer as “the slave market press.”

There was also a reference to Heseltine’s prodigious spending while in government, since he was responsible for promoting Concord, The Channel Tunnel, the third London airport and the Millennium Dome. “I want to thank you,” he said. “I always believed that I could spend it faster than you could earn it.”

Parky did a brief session but the star turn, saved for after the pudding course, was Shirley Bassey whose voice has lost none of its power with advancing years. She did a great little cabaret including all the old favourites such as Goldfinger, Something and Hey Big Spender aimed specially at the host.

All in all it was a good do. To take home we were all given a goody bag with chocolates wrapped in tiny Haymarket magazine covers. One thing that struck me was how well everyone looked. The 60s generation was clearly made of durable stuff. The only thing missing, although not missed by me, were the cigars.

British Library - balancing the books

Criticising landmark developments is the great British disease. The Channel Tunnel, the Millennium Dome, Wembley Stadium - they never had a chance. Now it's the turn of the Olympic complex. We wanted the Olympics in the UK. I remember cheering when I heard we had won the bid. But already the carping has started. Any big project such as this is going to incur cost overruns. It goes with the territory.

Do you remember how people criticised the British Library as a white elephant? It cost £500m and took 20 years to build from concept to opening. Even Prince Charles couldn't resist a jibe, describing it as a "secret police building." He was wrong. The British Library is a magnificent building, particularly on the inside which must offer some of the best facilities for undertaking concentrated work that I have found anywhere.

Part of its secret is what is not there: no telephones, no interruptions, no noise. Instead there is comfortable seating with strong, broad desks and an efficient ordering and delivery service. More than that, for those of us who use it,the service is a tangible return for the money we pay in taxes.

A well stocked, efficient library, offering free access to those of a nation's citizens who wish to read and research in quiet contemplation must form the bedrock of any reasonable definition of civilization. The only improvement that could and should be made to the British Library is to extend its reading services to other locations outside London.

But this isn't going to happen. What should be part of our birthright, the principle of unfettered access to one of the world's greatest collections of the written word, is under threat. The British Library has warned that it might need to start charging readers for its services, if the Treasury goes ahead with proposed cuts to its budget.

I hope this is no more than posturing, the sort of heavyweight barging that always takes place when Government departments are competing for their slice of the pie. My reading pass is a treasured possession. I love the British Library in the same way that I love the British Museum and the National Gallery. I love them most of all because their doors are open, offering free entry to all who visit.

You might run the world's biggest company and rub shoulders with the power elite every year in Davos, but if you want to see the Wilton Diptych or Vermeer's Young Woman seated at a Virginal you will have no better view than the man on the Clapham omnibus.

Last week the Government was starting a debate on Britishness. For me it starts with fair play and free access. The British Library didn't charge Lenin or Marx. I hope it won't charge me.