"And I shall wear my Chinese dressing gown."

From Trying to Please by John Julius Norwich.  Page 98.  

General de Gaulle was, it need hardly be said, a friend to no one. Greatness he undoubtedly possessed, but few great men have ever been more impossible to deal with. My mother remembered one ghastly dinner in Algiers when she found herself sitting next to him. She prided herself on being able to crack the hardest of conversational nuts, but now she realized that she had met her match. By the pudding, in sheer despair, she had embarked on the wildlife of Australia—an unfortunate choice of subject, since her French vocabulary hardly ran to it: “Et puis, mon général, il y a les wallabys, et aussi les wombats. Ah, ils sont si amusants, les wombats. . . .”

The General (mournfully, with a deep sigh): “Il paraît qu’il y a aussi les kangarous.”

Winston Churchill made no secret of his detestation. There was one occasion while she and my father were in Algiers when the Prime Minister had suffered a very slight stroke and had gone to Marrakesh to recuperate. De Gaulle had suddenly announced his intention of flying down to pay him a formal visit, and it was my father who had to break the news. The first reaction was categorical refusal.

“No Duffy, I shall not see him.”

“Winston, I’m sorry but I’m afraid you must. You know how prickly he is. If you refuse to see him he’ll take it as a mortal insult. It need only be for ten minutes.”

“I told you Duffy, I shall not see him. I am here to recover my health. Ten minutes with that man will bring about a serious relapse.”

“Winston, I beg you. I know what he’s like, and so do you. He’ll take it as an insult, he’ll never forgive you, and he’ll just be more of a nightmare than ever. To both of us. So please, Winston, please. . . .”

(Long and pregnant pause.) “All right then. Just for you, Duffy, I will. But it will be for five minutes only.” (Another, still longer pause; then, threateningly:) “And I shall wear my Chinese dressing gown.”