Notebook
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it is David Frost arriving in a time capsule out of the Sixties to deal with our present crisis. The spectacle was preposterous. It seemed as if Mr Frost's team of researchers had raided the prisons and lunatic asylums of Yorkshire to find an appropriate studio audience for Tuesday's television debate in Leeds on 'How can Britain work?' Some of Yorkshire Television's microphones, anyway, didn't work. This was perhaps a good thing, for the 'people affected by the strikes' (as part of the audience were amusingly described) appeared to be seized by a fury which rendered them inarticulate. Mr Frost darted here and there, interrupting one speaker and calling on another, in the vain hope of constructing an enlightening dialogue between the strikers and the struck. From time to time he would be dwarfed by the huge and wistful face of Merlyn Rees addressing him from London on a vast, blinking screen. Mr Frost seemed strangely remote, as if he had just flown in from Los Angeles to capitalise on our troubles (not so, of course) and was booked on an early return flight. I switched him off ('Goodbye, goodnight, and good riddance') only to find him again next morning on the front of the Daily Mirror as a 'face in the crowd at Sir Harold's champagne party'. The picture, taken in 1976, showed him talking to Lady Falkender. Here, at least, was a little reminder of why Britain doesn't work.
I do not know if there is any link between a country's fortunes and its consumption of champagne, but the fact remains that the world's two largest champagne importers last year were Italy and Great Britain. Italy, in fact, only recently overtook this country to become the world leader in this field. Perhaps this has something to do with the death of Sir Eric Miller. The Department of Trade report into Sir Eric's misdemeanours effectively exonerates Sir Harold Wilson of any misconduct. But it depends what one means by misconduct. Sir Harold, of course, did not know that the 0,304 worth of champagne supplied by Sir Eric for a 'surprise party' at Number Ten had been paid for with money stolen from Peachey Property. But it was surely unpardonable for a Prime Minister to accept such a gift from a man on whom he planned to bestow a knighthood only two months later. Having offered to return to Peachey four out of the twenty filing cabinets which Sir Eric strangely sent to Number Ten (how does one lose sixteen filing cabinets?), Sir Harold Should now give back the money for the champagne. Or perhaps the directors of Peachey would enjoy a surprise party. The fall of the Italian government is actually rather good news, for it reflects the declining fortunes of the Communist Party. Until they entered into a sort of `Lib-Lab Pact' with the Christian Democrat government two and a half years ago, the Italian Communists had enjoyed a period of almost uninterrupted growth since the war. But lately their popularity has declined, and this (as with the Liberal Party here) has induced them to withdraw their support from the governing party. Although the Christian Democrats say they don't want an election, now would be a good time to have one if it were to inflict further damage on the Communists. In any event, the Christian Democrats have been proved right in their policy of agreeing to collaborate with the Communists but firmly rejecting their demands for a part in a coalition.
In many places the social workers are still on strike; but not in Bedfordshire. There they have 'taken into care' a four-year-old boy against the wishes of his 57-year-old grandmother, who had been looking after him since he was six weeks old. The grandmother, Mrs Hannah Taylor, has asked for him back, the neighbours have organised a petition in her support, and the little boy, it is reported, is longing to return home. The evidence is that Mrs Taylor is not only eager but perfectly competent to take care of the child. So why was he removed? According to her, because the social workers said she was too old. The Bedfordshire Social Services department, having refused for several days to say anything at all on the grounds that it does not comment on individual cases, finally came up with a statement saying: 'Mrs Taylor was never at any time told that she was too old. The evidence shows it was Mrs Taylor herself who said she was too old and too poorly to look after her grandson and requested that he be removed from her care'. The depressing thing about this statement is that its only concern is to protect the reputation of the social workers, who, it says, behaved 'in accordance with the highest professional standards'. It doesn't say whether Mrs Taylor is in fact too 'poorly' to look after him or whether the child is in fact happy 'in care' or, indeed, whether he will ever be allowed to return home. There is no hint, in other words, of that compassion with which social workers are supposed to be so richly endowed.
In our enthusiasm to establish closer relations with China, we tend to argue that the Chinese — although obnoxious in their repressive practices at home — are wellbehaved and peace-loving abroad. In this we make a contrast with the expansionist tendencies of the Russians. It is particularly odd that the British should do this, for in one of the few areas of the world in which we still have responsibilities, the Chinese are acting directly against our interests. Two weeks ago, the diplomatic correspondent of the Sunday Telegraph reported that China was preparing to send more arms and military advisers to step up the guerrilla war against Rhodesia. The help is destined for Mr Robert Mugabe, who is intending to 'create hell' in Rhodesian towns and cities this year. China, it seems, is only too willing to assist him. Given that a peaceful settlement in Rhodesia has been a principal aim of British foreign policy, it is hard to imagine any more hostile action by a distant country which is allegedly hoping to become our friend.
British Rail is conducting a costly advertising campaign to encourage people to eat its food. A poster displaying every kind of delicacy (the photograph might have been taken in the kitchen at Maxim's) is to be found on the hoardings at many railway stations. 'Go to eat', it says. But eat, very often, is what you cannot do. I travelled last weekend on a plush, well-heated train from London to Dumfries in the expectation of one of those meals which, according to the publicity, are so comforting for harassed businessmen. A restaurant car had been promised. But not only was there no restaurant car. There was no bar, no buffet — not even a glass of fresh water to be had — and the guard had no idea why. Virtuous in its eagerness to be on its way, the train stopped so briefly at every station that there was no question of buying anything to eat from a platform buffet — until Carlisle, that was, when the engine was changed. Apparently there is a shortage of buffet cars while new ones — more resistant to the weather — are being introduced. But why advertise what you cannot supply?
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