I’m a rich aristocrat and we’re all ruthless skinflints: I’ve seen my friends hosting royalty on a ridiculously cheap budget and sneaking into the most stylish events. This is how we all pinch pennies…

Of all the things in this wide, bad world, few are more instructive than observing how the rich get richer in the summer. I had a privileged upbringing with two peers as my godparents and I have seen how they behaved since I was a teenager.

Their pranks may be described as wild or despicable to mere mortals, but are somehow portrayed as a lark when toffs are involved.

And it all starts now with what elite British social circles call ‘The Season’, that flurry of coveted social events such as Glyndebourne, Royal Ascot, Wimbledon and Henley Regatta. They are unaffordable for most of us, but not, as I have seen for decades, for the wealthy, especially when it comes to old money.

The aristocracy has tricks, honed over generations, to save their money or, preferably, not to spend it at all. In short, their general attitude is as tight as a miser’s fist.

Take Royal Ascot. I have been attending this seasonal laser light event for almost thirty years and it is an expensive affair for the majority of people.

In the exclusive Royal Enclosure (all other parts of Ascot are a kind of social Elba), badges entitling entry cost between £90 and £99 per day. It is the part of the racecourse with the most cachet, as it contains the Royal Box and puts you within easy reach of the Windsors. In principle there is no escape from paying, but the rich have cheeky tricks to reduce the cost of their race.

I’ve seen colleagues pass their badges from one to the other so that a friend could get free access to the Enclosure for an hour or two, so they could tip their top hats to senior royals and meet their friends for some scandalous gossip about who who sleeps with. Lending out badges is strictly against the rules, but was done anyway.

One year two people I knew, including a duke who had spent much of his life raking in chips as a croupier, saved almost £300 by taking advantage of this subterfuge.

The dress code for the Royal Enclosure is formal; for men it is morning dress and top hats, and for women hats or headgear covering the crown of the head.

But old money doesn’t have to buy or rent its formal sartoria. Most of the toffs of my acquaintance inherited their morning suits from their fathers and grandfathers, which translated into a saving of up to £3,000.

Unfortunately for ladies, fashion competition is fierce, especially since Ascot is televised. Outfits worth up to £10,000 are often borrowed for the day from leading designers. I knew a noble woman who bought her Ascot dresses free from Versace (one was peony silk and the other navy blue with a slit in the skirt), with the promise of tea in the Royal Box, which would be priceless for publicity. the designer.

Some fashionable milliners, of unerring snobbery, often borrow hats on the same principle.

If not, there’s always a gullible friend willing to borrow one. My mother saved up for years to buy two Chanel hats, and after repeated curses from a wealthy acquaintance, presented her with a black-and-white straw and grosgrain Chanel creation for Women’s Day.

Year after year the woman forgot to return it until it showed up on Ebay, netting the shameless borrower a tidy £2,000.

Then there’s the food and drinks. Ascot restaurants can set a party of four back £700 for a meager lunch of cold poached fish, cheese and chocolates.

I was lucky enough to be entertained all day in a private box in the Royal Enclosure with hot food, smoked salmon sandwiches and champagne for invited guests.

But I soon noticed that there were many uninvited guests, brought by friends, or simply crashers – one of whom improbably claimed to have been sent there by the late Queen. They all drank and ate freely, gobbling and guzzling hundreds of pounds worth of food and alcohol.

The truth is that the rich tend to be penny pinchers, and that’s how they stay rich.

At Wimbledon they bring a bottle of their own wine or champagne to avoid paying £40 to £120 at an official bar. Although strawberries remain a reasonable £2.50, they carry their own fruit and sandwiches in plastic bags. (Wimbledon allows this, if food and drink are not in a basket.) At Glyndebourne, tickets to the opera cost more than £200 per person.

I have known members of the aristocracy who tried to get free passes by using their connections, or even by posing as members of the press. One count, with the instincts of a busy Berlin hausfrau, used to call the press office and whine: ‘But I MUST have free tickets. I’m writing about the opera for Country Life.’

If these attempts at free admission fail, their intermission picnics make up for any costs by being extremely frugal.

A millionaire of my acquaintance once invited me to share what I expected to be a lavish meal. I politely contributed Ruinart champagne and smoked salmon from Fortnum & Mason. He served me Tesco Chardonnay and a bowl of mini pork pies. He must have paid a tenner for the ticket. I, on the other hand, had foolishly spent almost £100.

When the summer holidays start, more savings can be made and more people can benefit financially. The wealthy with villas abroad often rent them out in July and August for up to £50,000 per week. With nowhere to go, they search their contact lists for friends who have chosen to spend the summer at their own retreats and try to dodge invitations by claiming that they are ‘in the area’ and if they can spend ‘a few nights’ come to stay. .

This trick often succeeds, but their reluctant hosts often display a degree of viciousness that would put a breed of alley cats to shame.

A wealthy aristocrat who once owned the Italian villa used in the television series Succession apparently gave his guests frozen dishes from M&S.

One of his victims included the then Prince Charles. Another host refused to serve anything for breakfast other than coffee and dry toast, while the wine served with dinner was chianti, left over from its use in bolognese sauce.

Some desperate guests compensated by going to the local supermarket and buying their own food and drinks.

The host also insisted that each invitee take the entire house party to different restaurants each evening, with the villa owner conveniently forgetting his credit card after dinner, saving around £500 on each occasion.

Yet another presented guests with a bill for household groceries and electricity at the end of their stay. He made an enviable profit of £400 per week per person. It doesn’t change that old saying. In the summer the rich get richer, and if they don’t, they don’t get poorer like the rest of us.