Notebook
Ciongratulations to the Princess of Wales
on her son. In the most important department of our national life the dominance of the male sex is now guaranteed for at least two generations. We could not, of course, have a better monarch than the Queen, but it is nevertheless just a little embarrassing being ruled by two women, and Mrs Thatcher looks set to re- main at 10 Downing Street for ever. It was spirited of the Princess of Wales to take her baby home so soon after the birth, but I was a little disturbed by Buckingham Palace's official explanation — that she did It 'because it is very fashionable nowadays'. I hope the Princess is not going to be a slave to fashion in too many respects. The Daily Telegraph, which one inevitably turns to on these occasions, add- ed substance to such fears by announcing that the boy will receive 'a thoroughly modern upbringing', whatever that may mean, and that his nanny, Miss Barnes, 'prefers to be called by her Christian name, refuses to wear a uniform, and has no for- mal training as a nanny'. Perhaps we should consider ourselves fortunate that Prince Charles did not deliver the baby himself. What would certainly be un- fashionable would be to christen the boy Stanley, as some have suggested. The idea has its attractions, though. Not only would it be an inspiring tribute to the men who recovered the Falklands; it might be ap- propriate to have a 'King Stan' on the throne when the trade unions are finally running the country.
The birth of the Royal baby came at the end of a remarkable week for Britain. A week ago last Monday Max Hastings liberated Port Stanley, to be followed by the rest of the British task force. In no time Britain's Enemy Number One, General Galtieri, was dismissed from his job as President of Argentina, with a consolation Prize of a commemorative medal recording that he had once been a dictator. As if that were not enough, England defeated France in the World Cup while Argentina was humiliated again by gallant little Belgium. England then went on to beat Czechoslovakia. Meanwhile, Mrs Thatcher actually decided to enlarge the British Em- pire by seizing an island which for the past six years had been in the hands of what Buenos Aires described as 'dedicated scien- tists'. She thus also enlarged the British People's growing knowledge of geography, for even those millions who could now win Mastermind on the geography of the Falkland Islands tended to be unaware of the existence of South Thule. At this point one might have expected the British people to succumb to patriotic hysteria and run screaming through the streets. But a Lon- don underground strike and the weather fortunately kept them at home. A Sunday Times opinion poll showed, however, that four out of five people now feel prouder to be British. But when asked whether 'this country is going to the dogs', 43 per cent said it was. As it so happens, the same percentage replied in the same way to that question a year ago. So perhaps not very much has changed.
It is a sad fate in these days to be an Anglo-Argentine. A friend has passed on to me a letter from one such person, a woman whose grandfather emigrated to Argentina in 1860 and who is married to a farm manager. Here, without comment, are some extracts from her anguished letter, which was written on 3 June. 'It all seems so senseless, so childish, particularly on Great Britain's part. I have always been critical of people who, living in one country, compare it to the imaginary perfection of a far-off homeland, but I realise now that I cherish- ed, without realising it, a picture of a wise, mature mother country. To find her democratically elected leaders as subject to war fever and hurt dignity as any newly created country adds to the pain I feel for my poor Argentina. , . 1 was getting on for thirty before I realised that 1 was in fact an Argentine, and later still before I understood that man for man, and woman for woman, Argentines are just as good as Britons. When our children came to be educated I was determined that they should belong in the country they would most like- ly live in. They all speak Spanish fluently and correctly (I speak it with an English ac- cent) and consider themselves Argentines. It has taken three generations. Why hasn't something like this happened in the Falklands? Because the British Govern: ment, or perhaps the Falklands Islands Company, has taken good care that it shouldn't. . . . Another reason the British Government gives for its violent reaction to
the peaceful occupation of the Falklands by Argentina is that our government is nasty and brutish. It isn't. . . . Whatever our style of government, we have in many ways more freedom than the inhabitants of a crowded island whose freedoms are decided by the representatives of the majority. . . . I have always thought that this enforced orderliness has something to do with your wild football crowds, the violence in the streets and in the popular press, and the drinking. There is much less of all these things in Argentina. . . . I do not believe that the Thatcher government have a respect for life. When the Argentine Government took what they felt was theirs, they were careful to spill no alien blood; they behaved all through the first part of the war until the hostilities became open with restraint and an old-fashioned respect for rules. When the British Government decided to take back what they did not value until it was taken from them, they used professional fighting men, trained to kill efficiently, and started by sending an elderly battleship to the bottom, outside the danger area they had themselves marked. How many Argentine lives to one British, I wonder? What does it feel like to press the button that kills 300 men? . . . The son of old friends — she is the descendant of Welsh colonists, his father and mother were English — went into the Argentine forces as a career. He was one of the naval marines who took the islands with such care not to spill any blood but their own. As he speaks English, he dealt with the islanders who, his mother tells me, were most co-operative. I have too much respect for the Queen as a person not to believe that she knows that each one of these men matters as much as her handsome son.'
T stopped last weekend at a Trust House 1 Forte cafe on the Ml, curious to discover if all the abuse which is periodical- ly hurled at Lord Forte's places of refresh- ment is justified or not. I was quite pleasantly surprised to find a sparklingly clean cafe, all brightly decorated in green with framed pictures of plants on the walls. I ordered a cup of tea and a doughnut from a reasonably amiable youth standing behind what looked like an airport check-in counter. The trouble with this sort of place, however, is that you have to know the form. When 1 mentioned the doughnut, he replied with the speed of a machine gun: 'Jam-or-lemon-curd, eat-here-or-takeaway'. After he had repeated this a couple of times, I replied that I wanted jam and that I wanted to eat it there, so he gave it to me in a paper bag. The tea cost 20 pence. He gave me a cup with milk in it, which I did not want, then threw the contents away (20p down the drain), filled it with tea again as a way of rinsing it out, and then threw that down the drain (another 20p). This made me think that Lord Forte's tea might be a little overpriced. But the doughnut was quite good.
Alexander Chancellor
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