Notebook
Quite apart from other factors, the age and health of the most powerful heads of state are becoming rather worrying. Mr K.U. Chernenko, at 72, is the oldest man ever to be elected Soviet Party Secretary, three years older than his predecessor, and less than a year younger than President Reagan. (I know that Sir Winston Churchill was 66 when he became prime minister, but most People will have scaled their particular heights in their fifties and have passed their best by the generally recognised age of retirement.) When a politician becomes too infirm or too ill to do the job, for how long should he stay in office? According to Eric Silver's biography of Menachem Begin, Published last week, 'almost from the start of his premiership Begin had shown the classic symptoms of manic depression'. And his general condition worsened after he broke a bone in his thigh in November 1981, and then after his wife died a year later. For two years, therefore, which in- cluded the invasion of Lebanon and all its aPpalling consequences, Israel was led by a sick man. Things might not have been so dif- ferent had he resigned earlier. And it is doubtful whether East-West relations Would have been much affected by Mr Andropov's replacement when he first became ill last year. But it is, at the least, disturbing when world events are being guided by men who are not mentally or Physically up to it. (Apparently the US was so concerned, for whatever reason, to keep Andropov alive that an American specialist was consulted and dialysis equipment sent to Moscow for his kidney disease.) Mr Reagan may remain fit enought to govern — if the electors decide again in November that he is fitted for office — for the next four Years. But what if he becomes PhYsically or mentally incapacitated during that time? 1 suspect that he will hang on, wi„11,Y-oillY, until he is almost 78, the old Hollywood actor determined to make one more film; and the West may suffer for it. Bad weather in Sarajevo prevented the men's downhill skiing from taking Place last weekend, and so, at the time of ,writiug, I am not able to applaud the vic- tory, in this most spectacular of winter Olympic events, of Franz Klammer — or to hi She the cruel misfortune which denied hm the gold medal which he also won eight years ago. (Klammer has been racing for so 1°4 that he cannot be too many years Younger than I am.) British skiers are rarely been of at the Olympics, but much has Minister made — feathers in the caps of the Sports of Sport and the chairman of the second Council — of the achievement of the e.eond British two-man bobsleigh team, wpich came tenth last Sunday. It was cer- r inly a
great deal better than the 21st place
of the 'first' British pair; but not really worth boasting about too loudly. In the 1964 Games we won the two-man bobsleigh at Igls, and I can recall the excitement of being there to witness probably the last British gold medal in the winter Olympics. (I do not count skating — with the exception of speed skating — as a true Olympic sport, because performance cannot be measured by time or distance.) It was while I was at Igls that I discovered how easy it is, if that is what you want to do, and you are brave enough, to represent your country in an Olympic sport. This is done by being one of the two 'middle men' in a four-man bobsleigh. Their job is remarkably simple: it consists merely of running with the bobsleigh at the start, helping to push it for a few yards, then jumping in and keeping their heads down, leaning to left and right in the corners, until the bobsleigh gets to the bottom. These are the only skills re- quired to earn you a place in the British Olympic line-up with Torvill and Dean.
Truffles are apparently in short supply this year, though I am not clear why this should be so. Perhaps the noses of the French and Italian dogs are becoming less sensitive, and they can no longer pick up the scent of this delicious underground fungus. The price of truffles has risen in- evitably to an astronomical level — about £300 per pound — but the almost equally disturbing news is that an ersatz version is being manufactured by a Japanese company and is to be sold in Europe later this year. Apparently the fungus contains elements of something or other which is also to be found in garlic and ginseng, and the Japanese think that by extracting the rele- vant stuff they can produce an artificial truffle. (I hope they don't use too much ginseng: I tried Korean red ginseng tea the other day for the first, and last, time.) I cannot really believe that the experiment will work; the great pity is that truffles are no longer collected in this country. The last of the professional truffle hunters was said to have been Mr Alfred Collins, who used to operate near Salisbury, with poodles, and retired in 1930. However, there is no reason to think that the fungus is not still there, buried beneath beech and oak trees, only a few inches under ground, and waiting to be sniffed out. Pigs will do this quite naturally, though Mr Collins would train his dogs by rubbing truffles on their noses. Mr Collins was said to be able himself to pick up the scent, and sometimes to feel them underfoot or to identify the right spot by the presence of flies. On his best days he would collect up to 25 pounds of truffles which, in the Twenties, he would sell for about 3s. 6d. per pound. There is surely good money to be made here.
T was interested to read, in the Literary 'Review, an advertisement from The Ar- von Foundation for residential 'courses with writers', which are intended 'for those with a practical interest in writing, whether it be poetry, fiction or playwriting'. The courses are held — a most agreeable pros- pect — at a manor house in north Devon and at a house in the Pennines. There is tui- tion from the likes of Fay Weldon, Roger McGough, Kazuo Ishiguro and Alex Hamilton, and 'there is also ample time to just sit down and write'. Let us hope that there is also ample time for the student writers to learn to never split their infinitives.
BodmiBodmin Road is a station I have used for years when travelling to and from Cornwall. It is partly for that reason, no doubt, that I have no intention of calling it by its ridiculous new 'official title' of Bod- min Parkway. But it is also due to a natural resistance to any change of name for which there is no point or purpose. The reason, according to British Rail, is that Bodmin Road is a 'park and ride' station: you park and then you ride on the train — which is what you usually do when you go to railway stations. The idea of changing the name, the BR man says, is to promote Cornish railways, to persuade more people to use the car park, and to make them 'more aware of the station'. The aim is an ad- mirable one, but it is absurd to think that it will be achieved by substituting 'Parkway' for 'Road'. Bodmin Road indicates with perfect clarity that the station is outside and on the road to Bodmin, where one would expect to find plenty of parking space. British Rail have badly misjudged the extent of the opposition from passengers to the new name, and I am delighted to report that, two months after the change, the staff at Bodmin Road are still calling it by that name.
Simon Courtauld
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