DIARY
When I heard of Lord Shinwell's death last week, a recollection struck me. I turned up some notes I made after dining alone with Lord Montgomery in April 1948. I don't often write down what people say at dinner, but on this occasion Monty had unburdened himself of so much that (with a better memory than I possess now) I later recorded the evening's conversation in full. The relevant passage came when we discussed Attlee's government (of 1945- 50). I enter my notes as they stand, because they give an authentic whiff of Monty: Three good men — Williams (Tom), Chuter Ede and Shinwell. Great admiration for Chu- ter Ede, but not as future P.M.. Couldn't do it. Asked Churchill what he thought. Chur- chill — 'Humph'. Then he added — 'I asked those three to join my Cabinet. Two did. Shinwell would not for reasons of something that had happened earlier.' Next day saw Shinwell. Said 'I was talking to Mr Churchill about you last night. He said some nice things about you.' Shinwell added — 'Yes, he asked me to join his Cabinet.' Confirmation from two sources. Regard for Shinwell. Likeable chap. W.O. done him much good. First thing Went and saw him — 'Delighted to see you here.' Much appreciated. He would do any- thing for me. Got him just right. We get on
fine.'
Footnote for historians.
Ishall be surprised if the Commons treat Richard Evans of the Times severely for his breach of privilege.Evans is back-marker in the Parliamentary Golf Society side, Playing off about six and able to strike the ball further than any of us. I have not consulted Erskine May on the subject, but presumably a man suspended from the lobby for six months would ipso facto become ineligible to play for the PGS. That really would be a serious matter. Parliamentary golfers face stiff opposition later thisyear at places like Sunningdale, Walton Heath, Royal St. George's and Huntercombe. Richard Evans is indispens- able.
Ihope perversely that Mrs Thatcher does not take all the advice she is getting after last week's elections and stand every- thing on its head, including herself. There are examples of governments recovering from worse than this. There are more ominous examples of governments being induced by nasty by-elections to act most unwisely. The worst example in recent history, I suppose, was after a huge reverse for the National Government at East Fulham in the autumn of 1933, on the pacifist ticket. Baldwin's confession a year Or so later is well-known, but worth re- calling: WILLIAM DEEDES
I asked myself what chance was there — when that feeling that was given expression to in Fulham was common throughout the country — what chance there was within the next year or two of that feeling being so changed that the country would give a mandate for rearma- ment. . . I cannot think of anything that would have made the loss of the election from my point of view more certain.
A later example came after Orpington in the Spring of 1962 and a very bad by- election result in Leicester in July. Harold Macmillan felt driven to make sweeping Cabinet changes he had in mind for Octo- ber immediately. It did not work out well.
Irejoice that Colin Cowdrey has been named the next President of the MCC and am rather proud that I once went in to bat for him — well, metaphorically. In the 1950s Cowdrey was turned down for National Service because of flat feet. A rather rumbustious MP, Gerald Nabarro, got wind of this and made a lot of unkind and unjust remarks. Characteristically, Cowdrey took it calmly, seeking no public retraction; but it was intimated to me by a third party that he was hurt and would welcome an apology. So I approached Nabarro, with whom I was friendly. At first the great moustache bristled, but he came round and I think made personal amends. If Nabarro were still alive, Cow- drey being the sort of person he is would probably invite him to lunch in the Presi- dent's box at Lords.
Last Saturday I went to hear Malcolm Muggeridge talk to the fifth annual meet- ing of the Romney Marsh Churches Trust, set up to try to preserve the 14 ancient chruches scattered through the Marsh. At 83 Muggeridge still holds a large audience expectantly still and silent. He spoke of the influence of beauty on religion, and he was in the right place. The church of St Nicholas in New Romney with its 100 foot tower is a matchless blend of Norman and Early English styles. Its sill has been well below ground level since the great storm of 1287, which changed the history of the town. My mind wandered once. I thought, looking round, they have revised the Bible, the Book of Common Prayer and the hymns; yet here we all are striving to keep this church and its beautiful companions just as they were. Yes, a good cause.
Iam no sort of a racing man, but I was sorry we did not hear more in this country about this year's 112th Kentucky Derby. It was won on a 17-1 horse by the astonishing Bill Shoemaker. At 54, he was 12 years older than the oldest jockey to have won so far. It was 21 years since his last and third Derby win. At one point in the 11/4 mile race Shoemaker dropped back to last place, contentedly, he said later, because the colt he was on, Ferdinand, had a tendency to 'loaf when in the lead. Then he came through. At 2:02 4/5, it was, they said, the slowest race for 12 years. That does not seem to me the main point.
Much chortling over Arthur Scargill's lost claim against the police, accompanied by six figure costs, left me faintly uneasy. No doubt, as the jury determined, the police had behaved irreproachably throughout. I think it is the media which disturbs me. On the same day as Scargill's verdict, judgment was given in an impor- tant case brought by Mr James Falconer, who sued the rail unions for his costs incurred during an unofficial one-day strike. I cannot help wondering, whimsical- ly, what we might have read if Mr Falconer had lost the Scargill case and Scargill had won the rail action. One heading might have been: 'Can we depend on juries?' The other, surely, implying that Scargill had it in for the railway unions for not giving him more help during the coal strike: 'Arthur Scargill's Revenge'.
From my bedroom window on a clear day I can see across Romney Marsh the grey outline of the nuclear power stations, Dungeness A and B. Until I read the Observer which, after Chernobyl, revealed an undisclosed episode there, it had never occurred to me that, on the prevailing south-west wind, I lay in the path of danger. The construction of this pile was a public scandal at the time, costing tens of millions more than expected and com- pleted months, if not years, late. I am comforting myself and my loved ones with the thought that the people who now run the place must be more competent than the people who built it.
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