I like a story (a true story) that keeps building on itself, layer upon layer, until it finally ends with the listener incredulous but grudgingly impressed and won over. Such is the yarn Im about to spin about my 17-day stay with my wife and her cousin in adjoining rooms at the Dorchester Hotel in the Hyde Park area of London.

It is truly one of the swankest addresses you can have in that splendid city. If a native asks where youre staying and you answer, the Dorch, youve said it all. I think Samuel Johnson it was who said, If youre tired of London, youre tired of life. We werent tired of anything. We were American tourists so happy to be there, where we were, when we were. And besides Id made an inexpensive deal with the travel agent.

I walked miles each day, which was risky because the automobiles go the wrong way. We drank tea in the lounge each late afternoon and people watched. Saw Ingrid Bergman go up alone on an elevator. As those whove seen her in For Whom the Bell Tolls with Gary Cooper know, the sexiest actress who ever graced the silver screen.

Since our stay was so prolonged, the public relations lady asked us to be her guests to an early supper and we reciprocated with a drink the next night. She was charming and called to say that the Queen was making her semi-annual speech to the Parliament the next morning. She couldnt get us tickets for that but could for the debate between the majority leader of the House of Commons and the minority leader that afternoon. This was opening day and a big deal indeed, Sir Douglas Home and Harold Wilson. Yes, wed love to be there.

Next day we stood with the crowds and watched the Queen pass in her ancient gold vehicle pulled by six matched horses en route from Buckingham Palace to the ancient Parliament Building with Big Ben clock on each side. She waved to me and 2 million others with her tiny gloved hand and I took it to be personal.

At 2 that afternoon, we three showed up with our reservation tickets and we divided up with wife Jacqueline and Cousin Wini sitting in the Very Important Person Box in the Womens gallery over on the other side of the House of Commons and I in the V.I.P. Mens Box facing from my side for the debate between the prime minister and the opposition leader. We were very important people because we were foreigners and friends of the public relations lady at the Dorchester. Sitting below was the House of Commons, its members looking up and wondering who we were. They got going after a grand entrance, having received the Queens comments that morning which they ignore.

Wini got bored and wanted to shop, so my ladies eventually waved and departed. The English language is the native tongue of this Parliament and it has been sitting since 500 years before Shakespeare. The speeches were splendid. As I sat there all absorbed, I got a gentle tap on the shoulder and a man in livery presented me with a card on a silver salver. The prime ministers secretary (a man) wanted to know if Id join him for a drink after the debate. Indeed, I would. So the time came and I followed the messenger down a couple of flights to a reception area where my new friend awaited me. Apparently the building had small elegant reception -- bar areas scattered around where members ate and drank and had guests. My new friend and I were seated at our own little table and he asked if Id have a whiskey? I would. He ordered two whiskeys. To him there was only one whiskey -- Scottish. Oh, maybe throw in an Irish on rare occasions. We began to chat. He was an executive secretary to the prime minister. (It later developed he was next in line to be Lord Mayor of London. He was impressive.) We had a second whiskey. His idea. I was a Barrister. Thats (lawyer) what Id be over there, also president of a lawn mower company that made all kinds of outdoor edgers, trimmers, and shearing equipment. (Not so impressive in that setting.) In other words, I was in trade. But being a lawyer helped. We had just a fine time. I might come over for his inauguration as Lord Mayor.

As we came toward time to find my ladies, he said. Two months ago I entertained the chairman of the board of your Xerox Co. and he sent me a case of your whiskey. What kind was it, I asked? I believe it was called Jack Daniels, he almost whispered. Oh, thats Tennessee Whiskey, I said.

How did you like it? He looked around the rooms to be sure he wasnt overheard. I, he said, thought it was vile. Its one of our best, was my rejoinder. It probably shocked his Scottish nostrils.

I didnt make his Lord Mayor Inauguration. I owe him. I went back to the Dorchester and had a whiskey with my ladies. They dont serve Jack Daniels.

Attorney Austin Cunningham has been the president of five business companies and in 1988 was named Outstanding Elder Citizen of the Year for South Carolina.

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