I'm a wealthy aristocrat and we're all ruthless skinflints: I've seen my friends host royalty on an outrageously cheap budget and sneak into the classiest events. This is how we all pinch pennies...

Of all the things in this wide, wicked world there are few more instructive than observing how the rich grow richer during the summer. I had a privileged upbringing with two peers as my godparents and I've watched how they behave since I was a teenager.

Their shenanigans might be described as feral or despicable in mere mortals but are somehow passed off as a lark when toffs are involved.

And it's all kicking off now with what elite British social circles call 'The Season', that stream of coveted social events like Glyndebourne, Royal Ascot, Wimbledon and Henley Regatta. They are prohibitively expensive for most of us, but not, as I have witnessed for decades, for the wealthy, particularly when old money is involved.

The aristocracy has contrivances, honed over the generations, to save their cash, or, preferably, to not spend it at all. Their general attitude, in summation, is as tight as a miser's fist.

It's all kicking off now with what elite British social circles call 'The Season', that stream of coveted social events like Glyndebourne, Royal Ascot, Wimbledon and Henley Regatta

Consider Royal Ascot. I have attended this seasonal laser light of an event for nearly three decades and it's a pricey business for the majority of people.

In the exclusive Royal Enclosure (all other parts of Ascot are a sort of social Elba), badges which entitle the holder to entry, cost from £90 to £99 a day. It is the part of the race course with the most cachet as it contains the Royal Box and puts you within arms length of the Windsors. En principe, there is no avoiding paying, but the rich have brazen ploys to reduce the costs of their race going.

I've seen peers passing their badges from one to another so a friend could gain admission to the Enclosure free for a sneaky hour or two so they can tip their top hats at senior royals and meet their friends for a scandalous gossip about who is sleeping with who. Lending badges is strictly against the rules but it was done nevertheless.

One year, two people I knew, including a duke, who had raked in the chips like a croupier for much of his life, saved nearly £300 by taking advantage of this subterfuge.

The dress code for the Royal Enclosure is famously formal; for men, it is morning dress and top hats, and for ladies, hats or headpieces that cover the crown of the head.

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

The truth is the rich have a tendency to be penny pinchers, which is how they remain wealthy

Unfortunately for ladies, the fashion competition is fierce, particularly as Ascot is televised. Outfits worth up to £10,000 are often borrowed for the day from premier designers. I knew one peeress who acquired her Ascot frocks free from Versace, (one was peony silk and the other navy with a split in the skirt), on the promise that she would be taking tea in the Royal Box, which would be invaluable publicity for the designer.

Some fashionable milliners, with unerring snobisme, often lend hats on the same principle.

If not, there is always the gullible friend who will loan one. My mother saved for years to buy two Chanel hats, and after repeated imprecations from a wealthy acquaintance, leant her a black and white Chanel creation in straw and grosgrain for Ladies' Day.

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

Then there is the food and drink. Ascot restaurants can set back a party of four £700 for a paltry lunch of cold poached fish, cheese and chocolates.

I've been fortunate enough to be entertained in a private box in the Royal Enclosure with hot food, smoked salmon sandwiches and champagne to invited guests throughout the day.

But I soon noticed there were plenty of uninvited ones, either brought by friends, or just plain crashers – one of whom improbably claimed to have been sent there by the late Queen. All imbibed and ate freely, wolfing and guzzling hundreds of pounds worth of food and alcohol.

The truth is the rich have a tendency to be penny pinchers, which is how they remain wealthy.

A lady racegoer has a nap next to a box of wine during Royal Ascot in Berkshire

At Wimbledon, they bring a bottle of their own wine or champagne to avoid paying upwards of £40 to £120 from an official bar. Though strawberries remain a reasonable £2.50, they carry their own fruit and sandwiches in plastic bags. (Wimbledon allows this, if food and drink is not in a hamper.) At Glyndebourne, tickets for the opera cost over £200 per person.

I have known members of the aristocracy to try and wheedle free passes by using their connections, or even by posing as members of the Press. One earl, with the instincts of a hustling Berlin hausfrau, used to ring the press office and whine, 'But I MUST have free tickets. I'm writing about the opera for Country Life.'

If these attempts to gain gratis entry fail, their picnics during the interval make up for any outlay by being parsimonious in the extreme.

A millionaire of my acquaintance once invited me to share what I expected to be a lavish repast. Politely, I contributed Ruinart champagne and smoked salmon from Fortnum & Mason. He served me Tesco Chardonnay and a container of mini pork pies. He must have paid a tenner for the lot. I, on the other hand, had foolishly shelled out nearer £100.

When the summer holidays begin, there are more savings to be made, and more people to take advantage of financially. The rich with villas abroad often rent them out during July and August for up to £50,000 a week. With nowhere to go, they rifle through their contact lists for friends who have chosen to summer in their own retreats and attempt to cadge invitations by claiming they will 'be in the area' and could they come and stay 'for a couple of nights'.

This ploy this often succeeds, but their reluctant hosts often show a degree of meanness of their own that would disgrace a race of alley cats.

At Glyndebourne, where revellers are seen enjoying a picnic, tickets for the opera cost over £200 per person

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

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

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

The host also insisted each invitee drive the entire house party to different restaurants every night, whereby after dinner, the villa owner would have conveniently forgotten his credit card, thereby saving roughly £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 a week per person. It doesn't change, that old adage. In the summer, the rich get richer, or, if not, they don't get poorer like the rest of us.