DIARY SIMON COURTAULD
It was 47 years ago this weekend that Lord Erroll was murdered in Kenya and his body found in a Buick on the Nairobi- Ngong road. So began the endlessly fasci- nating Happy Valley mystery, the subject of James Fox's book White Mischief, now made into a film which comes out the week after next. Sir 'Jock' Delves Broughton has always been a'prime suspect, and Mr Fox's conclusion that he was indeed the guilty man (though tried and acquitted) is pretty persuasive. On a recent occasion, howev- er, when I met some old Kenya hands who had lived there after the war, the consensus was that Jack Soames — an Eton contem- porary of Broughton, and played in the film by the late Trevor Howard — did it. Let's hope the film will help to revive this enjoyable speculation.
In the last issue of the Field which I planned (February, out this week) before I ceased to be editor, there is an article by Daphne du Maurier describing a winter's afternoon walk near her house on the south Cornish coast. I decided to publish this having been to see her last summer; it was one of the last things she wrote, about seven years ago. She is now 80 and does not normally receive visitors. However, it had been 35 years since we last met, and I could not resist the opportunity to look her up again. I used to go and stay at Menabilly in the summer holidays when her son and I were prep-school friends. That was the house which became Manderley in Rebec- ca, and which she and her husband, Gener- al Sir Frederick Browning, leased during the war and for 20 years afterwards. It was, as Lady Browning described it, a 'house of secrets'; it had been empty for years before she went to live there. My principal mem- ory of Menabilly is of dust sheets in the rooms which remained unused. The house was bewitching, and rather creepy — like some of Lady Browning's later stones. Built in the late 16th century by an MP, Philip Rashleigh, Menabilly has been own- ed by Rashleighs ever since, and is now occupied again by a member of the family. But its secrets are shared with no one else: it is the greatest shame that no visitors are allowed even a romantic glimpse of Man- derley, written requests are ignored and, according to locals, trespassers found walk- ing in the woods are likely to be threatened with a gun. (A footpath which leads to what I remember as Menabilly's private beach, Polridmouth Cove, gives a magnifi- cent view of the park and the rho- dodendrons, but not of the house.) Lady Browning now lives a mile up the road, in the former dower house to Menabilly. The hull of 'Boy' Browning's old boat stands in the garden, and lace-cap hydrangeas line the drive. When I called, unannounced, last summer, Lady Browning came to a first-floor window and we spoke for a few minutes about her son and those Menabilly days. Unsurprisingly, she did not remem- ber me; but I went away happy.
Some may think they have heard more than enough of EEC food surpluses and the need to take farmland out of produc- tion. But when a prize is given for work which may do more than anything to help persuade farmers to modify their intensive methods, it is odd that it receives so little notice. Last week the Game Conservancy received the Laurent Perrier award from Mr John MacGregor, Minister of Agricul- ture, for demonstrating how, by avoiding the use of pesticide sprays round the perimeter of a cornfield, there can be a remarkable regeneration of wild flowers, butterflies and insects, which is of conse- quent benefit to other wildlife, particularly to partridges. This may not appeal greatly to the big cereal grower who doesn't shoot, but if Mr MacGregor can be persuaded that it should qualify for grant under his declared policy of 'set-aside' or fallowing, it may be the most attractive incentive for smaller farmers to reduce their production of cereals. (An annual payment of £120 per acre is now being proposed.) Such an enlightened and practical idea, which has already been adopted in France and Ger- many, deserves much wider attention. Yet only one newspaper bothered to give it any publicity last week. There was nothing in the Times, which has given disappointingly little space to country matters since Charles Douglas Home died; nor in the Independent, which started off by taking great interest in the rural environment; nor in the caring, conservationist Guardian. Only the Daily Telegraph published a report of the award and its significance which one hopes was not lost by its appearing under 'Social News'.
At a time when Channel 4 has just introduced a quiz programme — Fifteen-to- One, every weekday afternoon — it appears that the BBC, propelled by its deputy director general John Birt, is about to bombard us with more current affairs. Four new weekly programmes are threatened this year, on social, domestic, financial and foreign policy, two of them replacing This Week Next Week and The Money Programme. Since Mr Birt's appointment viewing figures for Panorama have been dropping fast, and its future is far from certain. His devotion to serious matters is all very worthy, but I wonder if he is right to give us such a heavy and possibly turgid diet. He is said to believe in `one-issue' programmes, full of questioning and analysis, in order to correct what he calls 'the bias against understanding'. This was apparently the idea of ITV's Weekend World, which he created and which every- one agreed was a jolly good programme, though it is hard to find anyone who watches television at midday on a Sunday. When people are actually watching — in the evenings during the week — a different approach may be necessary if Mr Birt is not to get the reputation of being responsible for a bias against viewing. For the next four years, however, the licence fee will be pegged to the rate of inflation; so perhaps the size of the BBC audience does not matter that much.
Driving past the northern perimeter fence of Greenham Common air base the other night, I thought to stop and ask the `peace women' camped there how much longer they were going to stay now that agreement has been reached to remove the cruise missiles. But as I approached and saw four women swathed in heavy coats and woollen scarves, surrounding a fire and a cooking pot, I was suddenly re- minded of Macbeth's secret, black and midnight hags, and I drove on. The hour, and the gusting wind, led me to wonder what might be in the cauldron — eye of newt, toe of frog? — and whether, had I stopped, I would have been warned against any man not of woman born. My imagina- tion seemed to have some substance as I passed the blasted heath of the golf course opposite the gates of the airfield. Since that road is used almost entirely by golfers and people living or working in or between Newbury and Thatcham, the number of passers-by likely to be impressed by the women's vigil must be limited. Yet their persistence — the camp has been woman- ned for at least five years — is impressive in its way. When the missiles have gone they may stay on, having acquired some- thing like a prescriptive right, to plead some other cause — Lesbian deacons perhaps? =- though they would get more notice were they to strike camp and join the 'Free Nelson Mandela' demonstrators in Trafalgar Square.
Previous page
