Notebook
Ever since the Labour Party started mak- ing a fuss about the high proportion of Oxbridge entrants coming from public schools rumours have been rife about some sycophantic colleges practising a form of reverse discrimination, in the hope of even- tually winning favours from egalitarian fanatics like Neil Kinnock, the all-too visi- ble shadow Minister of Education. By reverse discrimination is meant wherever possible, other things being equal, always choosing an applicant from the State sec- tor. Up to a point such a practice may make sense, and is certainly not something about which any one need get too worked up. But a case came to my ears recently which really did seem a bit over the odds. The boy in question was an old Etonian who had won all the school's history prizes as well as do- ing superbly well in his A levels — an ab- solute cert for a place, if not a scholarship. But no, the college of his choice turned him down flat. Not surprisingly his father, an old friend, suspected foul play, and asked for my help. Not expecting for a moment that there was anything much to be done, I nevertheless got in touch with my old col- lege which, in turn, called for his exam papers and, after studying them, offered him an Exhibition just like that. The story, I am glad to say, does not end there, with a Minor scandal exposed. For a few weeks later I received a letter from the boy who, as well as thanking me for my good offices, wanted most explicitly to disabuse me of any false impression that I might have formed about what had happened. His first college, he insisted, had not been guilty of reverse discrimination, and had failed him wholly justifiably because of an egregious mistake he had made in his interview. Full marks all round, and particularly to the boy who might so easily have not bothered to Put me right. Peterhouse has gained a scholar who is also very much a gentleman.
There is a young Doberman Pinscher in my part of Fulham who treats the wheels of city traffic, however fast moving, with exactly the same arrogantly non- chalant evasiveness as rural dogs treat the galloping hooves of cattle and horses. Without looking to the left or right, he trots across the main road, swerving this way and that with an absolutely sure judgment about just how near it is safe to go. Nor is he the least overawed by the size of the ap- proaching vehicle, cocking the same con- temptuous eye at the giant articulated lorry as at a mere bicycle. At first I would hold my breath, finding it hard to believe that an animal could have such a sure instinct about mechanical motion. But later, such
was his record of always escaping harm by a hair's breadth, that I began to take his skill for granted ... until one morning last week I saw him trampled to death by a troop of mounted police whose speed of progress he fatally misjudged. Many rural dogs must have suffered a comparable fate when first confronted by urban dangers outside their range of experience. But one somehow never expected a town-bred dog to be equal- ly disorientated by his first brush with nature. Wartime East End evacuees, yes. But not, somehow, a Doberman Pinscher.
Some of the Keepers of the Victoria and Albert are understandably concerned about the new National Heritage Bill which is now before Parliament, the purpose of which is to give the Minister for the Arts, through trustees nominated by him, a greater say in the administration of this na- tional institution. Ostensibly, the idea seems to be to 'democratise' the V & A, with a view to giving the public better ser- vice. Henceforth, instead of it being run for the satisfaction of the experts — ie. the Keepers — the Government-appointed trustees will be there to represent the in- terests of the visitors. Consumers Rule, OK. One knows what that can mean — fruit machines in the basement, play-pens for children and other so-called popular in- novations. Conceivably this is what some visitors want. But most members of the public, including myself, never go near the place and it is very doubtful whether such innovations are what we want. For all we non-visitors want, in return for paying our taxes, is that the V & A should be famous throughout the world as second to none, re- sounding to the nation's credit. If it is that, then we can draw some vicarious pride from contributing to its upkeep. At least we have the satisfaction of supporting something absolutely first class. In other words, the last thing philistines should favour is reduc- tions in standards in search of higher atten-
dance rates, since to be required to sub- sidise the second rate really would be ad- ding insult to injury. From the majority point of view, therefore, the case for spar- ing the Keepers from Government interven- tion is overwhelming. Much to the disap- pointment of the trustees, the House of Lords, to whom they looked for protection, seems to be siding with the Government. But what else can be expected from a- legislative body which contains the likes of Lord Montagu of Beaulieu and the Duke of Bedford, who have an interest in vulgaris- ing museums? Keepers Rule, OK — that should be the truly popular cry, since so long as the real experts are in charge the na- tion will at least be getting quality goods for its money, instead of a lot of trashy gim- micks.
Responding to the public's demand for fast food, brewers are more and more adapting the English pub into an American- style eating house. In some cases this in- volves complete transformation (as with. Berni steak bars), to the point where there is no connection with the old pub except the- name. But in others — a great majority — • the adaptation is only partial. I have in mind those innumerable pubs where several small separate snug little bars have been all knocked into one big one so as to facilitate the quick service of meals. The food itself has greatly improved. No complaint about that. But the facilities for eating it are still pretty awful — too few tables covered with • full ash trays awash with spilt beer. The trouble here is that the brewers have tried to. retain some resemblance to a traditional pub, out of deference to the past, but the' price paid for this nostalgia has been at the expense of the restaurant of the future. As a result the customer gets the worst of both worlds — a shapeless and charmless open- plan bar suitable neither for cosy drinking nor convenient eating. Such a compromise really pleases nobody. If it is true, as Egon Ronay seems to confirm, that the priority of most customers nowadays is for quick • food, would it not make more sense for the brewers to abandon all pretence of main- taining a spurious pub atmosphere in most of their houses — turn them, that is, into restaurants proper — while leaving a very few — one or two in each town — as God made them. How else can the great British public be saved from falling, so to speak, between two stools?
Afriend of mine has just had a valuable tie ring stolen from the changing room of the Turf Club. Not for a moment does he suspect any of the old servants, all of whom are totally trustworthy. Which is more than he is prepared to say about many of the new young members, who strike him as suspiciously raffish. New Society should take note. Surely it is a sign of something or other when the members of a gentlemen's club are thought to be less honest than the staff?
Peregrine Worsthorne
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