Notebook
On a wall in a lavatory at the Charing V Cross Hospital, which is mysteriously situated in Fulham, is a scrawl which reads: 'The IRA couldn't open a bottle of Guin- ness on their own'. Below it someone has tastelessly written 'Ask Mountbatten!' The first graffito must have been put there dur- ing one of those periods in which the IRA has seemed to be on the run, when the Police and the security forces have seemed to be winning their battle against terrorism. Rut such periods never last for long. Like the Sicilian Mafia, the IRA never complete- lY dies and has an apparently endless capacity for self-regeneration. It will con- tinue to be a threat until such time as either its political objective — the re-unification of Ireland — has been achieved, or the achievement of that objective has become Patently impossible. It is deluded of Mr Haughey, the Irish Prime Minister, to declare that those responsible for the bomb attacks in London last Tuesday 'do ir- reparable damage... to the cause of Irish unity'. This is rather like saying that Palestinian terrorism does irreparable damage to the cause of a Palestinian state. It is just untrue. It is only if Irish unity is achieved, or — as The Times pointed out on Wednesday — if the Irish Government drops its traditional claim to Ulster, that terrorism will wither and die.
My visit to the Charing Cross hospital was my first to any hospital since the employees of the National Health Service began agitating for higher pay. One could not have told that there was any dispute go- ing on. The place was running like clockwork, there was no apparent shortage Of staff, and everybody from the doctors to the porters to the tea-ladies was strikingly Cheerful and friendly. Even a group of men Who were handing out leaflets outside seem- ed indecently amiable. There is clearly strong resistance among many hospital workers to the idea that patients should be allowed to suffer as a result of their agita- tion. Indeed, it seems possible that they are being more attentive and conscientious because of it.
Awoman in a little flower shop in Ham- mersmith said she had treated herself to a bunch of lilies on Tuesday because the news was all so horrible. She hadn't been able to watch the television news on the day of the IRA atrocities and she had refused to look at a paper next morning. I felt rather the same as her. For some reason, although We have more than our fair share of such horrors, acts of violence and terrorism in England seem particularly cruel and un- natural. In more colourful, dramatic places
violence at least does not seem so remote from the natural order of things. Here, in what we still like to regard as a green and pleasant — not to say cosy — land, it seems alien and sacrilegious. So it depresses peo- ple more.
Acouple of years ago the trustees of the National Portrait Gallery off Trafalgar Square commissioned a portrait of Elton John, the pop singer, by a relative- ly unknown British artist called Suzi Malini. An adventurous decision, perhaps, for an institution which was founded in 1865 'to form a gallery of the portraits of the most eminent persons in British history'. But the fact that the Gallery is prepared to commis- sion such a portrait does make me wonder why it so peremptorily rejected the offer made to it last week of a painting of Mr Tony Benn by the much better known por- trait painter, Mr Feliks Topolski. The photograph of the Topolski portrait, which appeared in one or two of last Saturday's newspapers, showed it to be of an artistic quality at least equal to that of many of the Gallery's other pictures. And Mr Benn, whatever one may think of him, is at least as significant a figure in contemporary British life as many of the other subjects portrayed. There must have been some pre- judice somewhere — if not against Mr Benn, then against Mr Topolski who is somewhat despised by the artistic establish- ment as a caricaturist. But perhaps the od- dest thing about this little episode is that Mr Benn sat for the portrait at all. It is one of his aims to appear as personally self- effacing as possible. He does not even allow his name to appear in Who's Who for fear, presumably, that it might make him appear a pompous member of the Establishment. To sit for a portrait which is then offered to the National Portrait Gallery would seem to be in conflict with the image he tries to pro- mote. Perhaps he did it as a favour to his friend, Mr Tony Banks, the Chairman of the Greater London Council's committee for the arts, who commissioned it. But even so... Acording to The Times, the Queen was looking 'preoccupied and uncharac- teristically severe' at the Buckingham Palace garden party on Tuesday. For this she is hardly to be blamed. Quite apart from the IRA atrocities, which are said to have distressed her deeply, she has suffered quite unparallelled upsets in her domestic arrangements. One day she wakes up to find an intruder on her bed; soon after- wards her devoted bodyguard is forced to resign against her wishes in a blaze of scan- dal. The first episode severely dented the aura of mystery and formality which sur- rounds the monarchy and had a curiously liberating effect on the press. Cartoons ap- peared showing the Queen in bed, and the popular newspapers seized upon the revela- tion that the Queen was alone at the time in her bedroom (or, as they prefer to call it, `bedchamber'). The Sunday People even published the results of an opinion poll which purported to show a large majority of the country in favour of greater matrimonial intimacy between the Queen and her husband. While she must have found this both vulgar and embarassing, she should try not to be too upset. There have been major compensations. She has conducted herself with such dignity through these squalid and banal little episodes that few monarchs can ever have commanded such popular sympathy and affection as the Queen does this week.
The Papacy, the only monarchy in Europe which compares in ceremonial splendour with the British one, is protected by a body of men who are sworn to defend the Pope's life with their own. They are, of course, the Swiss Guards, men from the German-speaking Cantons of Switzerland who have been entrusted with this sacred duty for centuries. It must be said that they are not quite as dedicated as they used to be. They have been known, for example, to go on strike for better pay, which even the police don't do here. And they are also not famous for their intelligence. A journalist colleague of mine in Rome once described how, when he tried to enter one of the Vatican gates, the Swiss guard on duty challenged him and asked who he wanted to see. When he answered 'The Pope', the Guard immediately let him through. But despite such shortcomings, the Swiss Guards are picturesque with their floppy hats and halberds, and it occurs to me that Buckingham Palace could simultaneously improve both its security and its ceremonial by entrusting the Queen's protection to some comparable group of dedicated men. Such a boring task demands exceptional dedication if it is to be carried out effective- ly, and policemen of the Dixon of Dock Green variety are clearly not right for it. Perhaps the Ghurkas, kitted out in roman- tic uniforms and made to swear solemn oaths of loyalty to the Queen, might fit the bill.
Alexander Chancellor
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