The Editor caught my eye in the queue in the Canteen the other Monday. "You'll be staying sober next Monday, I trust", he said. I thought he was being a bit solicitous. Why should he worry over my health? Then, light dawned. "Ah", I said. "Hallowe'en", I said. "You want to enjoy yourself this year", I said. "Exactly", he said. So here I am writing this year's article. In the event, poor John missed the function, flu or something. Such is fate.

The Serving Coy appear to be gaining in honour, or maybe the older guests can't take the volume these days. At any rate, our tables this year were next to the Pipers' space in the centre of the Hall. Over in the corner by the main door, the bar was the usual maelstrom, and behind the curtains at the opposite end, dinner made its presence known by culinary odours and clattering crockery. In the middle, hubbub and Hodden Grey, some, more than a few, with hair to match.

The evening opened, as always, with the laying of the wreath on the Great War Memorial, by a member of the Serving Coy, the honour failing this year to Pte Lindsay Duncan, one of that small, elite band of real Scotsmen in the unit.

Then on to the meal, the menu is itself as traditional as the occasion, apart from a daring foray into croquette potatoes to go with the steak and kidney Pie. You can't halt progress. Large amounts of liquid, served with aplomb, and not a little concentration when carrying full trays, by members of the two London Scottish Cadet Coys, helped the meal down.

It was a very full house, especially on the Serving Coy tables, and I wrote my notes while taking a rest from avoiding elbows. There was some suggestion that eating should be by alternate numbers, else the bruising suffered could interfere with the drinking.

Dinner out of the way, the evening moved on to the speeches. Colonel Penman proposed the Loyal Toast, read the telegram sent to the, Queen Mother, and her reply, and proposed the toast, The Queen Mother. These toasts observed, Permission to smoke was given, and the Hall disappeared in a cloud of blue fumes. Those Government warnings don't seem to have much effect.

In opening the proceedings, Colonel Penman referred to the Knights of the Round Table, and introduced the President, Major-General Sir Douglas Kendrew, KCMG, CB, CBE, DSO, who presented the Messines Trophy this year. Major Rutherford-Young introduced this year's recipient, Pte Colin Granger, and the Serving Coy watched enthralled as Colin's ears went red under the praise poured on him. Sir Douglas, in presenting the prize, mentioned that he was the first President of the Knights to attend Hallowe'en and do so.

A short interlude then followed, during which a concerted assault was made on the bar, except by those who had been wise enough to stock up. Wandering about during the break, I asked the PSI's why the Mess dress had not been taken out of mothballs. "Because it gets in a mess" was the reply. I also spied RQMS Alan Morris, giving a marvellous display of Keeping a Low Profile.

Following the recess, Colonel Penman thanked the Hallowe'en Committee for the effort they had put into the evening, and Hector Robertson read messages received from the Glasgow, and Christchurch, NZ, branches of the Regimental Association, from Sgt David James, the Sgts' Mess President, who, unfortunately, could not attend this year, and from the ladies of the London Yeomanry.

The Pipes and Drums then took the stage and played with their customary gusto. Among their number was possibly the youngest and smallest drummer seen in the Band for a good number of years, Mike Reilly, a veteran of 14 years, paradiddling and ruffling with the best of them. A large number of those on the Serving Coy's table (well, Cpl Peter Jones to be exact) made an observation that the entire Band thunder away like mad, yet only the Pipe-Major gets the drink. No democracy there.

Following the Pipes and Drums first set, Colonel Penman proposed the health of the guests who, apart from those already mentioned, included the Principal Guest, General Sir Antony Read, GCB, CBE, DSO, me, Director of the Royal Hospital Chelsea, Lt-Colonel R. T. T. Gurdon, CO of 1st Bn 51st Highland Volunteers, Colonel A. F. Niekirk, TD, ADC, and the President of the Gordons Association, Lt-Colonel R. G. Lees, MBE. Colonel Penman said he was delighted at the large numbers present, and put in an advert for the Regimental Association, and a plea for the Regimental Fund, and then introduced the Guest of Honour.

Sir Antony opened his speech by thanking The Scottish for their liberal hospitality, and saying how much he appreciated the privilege of being invited to a family occasion. He referred to the large numbers of Old Comrades present, and said he felt sure that it was pride in the Regiment and its traditions which brought them back year after year, and he decried the comments made by an American general shortly before Hallowe'en, which had been given much prominence in the Press, saying that, in his opinion, the British Army was the best in the world. This statement brought a chorus of assent from the body of the Hall. Speaking of the Cadets, with which he is very much connected, he said they were a wonderful body, as were the Pensioners at the Royal Hospital, his "old gentlemen", whose eye for the ladies is, apparently, still as good as ever.

The Pipes and Drums returned to the floor and played their second and final set, and the official part of the function closed with the singing of the Evening Hymn, an event not to be missed since it is one of very few occasions when CSM Archdale waxes melodic. Of course, there were a good few hours celebrating left, but as I do not wish to lose the few friends I have got by being too candid, I leave the evening there. Suffice it to say that the hardy few who stayed the night, viewed the debris the following morning. "Never again", we said. Well, not till next year, anyway.