Diary
Ihear, as Mt. Nigel Dempster might say, of an important marriage heading for the rocks. After their fashionable and well- attended wedding in the snows of January, at which the Earl of Stockton made such a Witty speech on behalf of the bride, the House of Lords and the BBC are talking of Parting. The grounds, her lawyers whisper to me: 'neglect'. He has been seen out at Popular spots with other, more lively char- mers. I did not attend the marriage, indeed I was not invited; but sat at home knitting and telling everyone who would listen to me that I had been acquainted with both Parties long enough to know they were temperamentally unsuited. If the marriage does break up, I shall feel smug.
Down the long corridor to the Com- mons, an altogether more mysterious affair. American research assistants are accused of cheating the system and, worse, hogging the canteens. In my day, which is only ten years back, you went to the House Of Commons Library and a trained mind With a good degree sought what you wanted. They didn't write speeches for You, but they found all the material. Why all these Americans? I can offer a clue. If Your dinner table talk is faltering, tap the rim of the glass and tell them that in one year now 2,250,000 miscellaneous docu- ments valued at £8 million are distributed to MPs. (Their daily parliamentary papers alone cost £15). Now, if seven maids with seven mops.
There is an odd, forgotten and rather sad bit of industrial history attached to the militant Kent miners who carried on With their strike for some days after the rest, and were the last to submit. In the 1920s it was planned, I think by Dorman Long, to build a steel plant in East Kent. (That would have given the environmental- ists something to rattle on about.) So the Kent pits, which produce the best stuff for steel, were opened up. Some of the re- cruits, incidentally, were men who had been sacked in the battles of 1926 which culminated in the General Strike. Then the steel plan was abandoned. The collieries, of which Tilmanstone, Betteshanger and Snowden remain, were left out on a limb. Their economic raison d'être disappeared. Hence the militancy ever since. 'A sorry industrial story,' says Lord Ezra, who was Mr MacGregor's predecessor but one at NCB. If you think about it, a lot of our industrial troubles can be traced back to historical accidents like that.
T found some of the old film shots on Itelevision, marking the 40th anniversary of Remagen Bridge's recapture, poignant. Most of us have our heroes carried at the back of the mind from youth on. One of mine was Peter Lawless, who was killed on the bridge at the age of 55. He was a huge, red-faced, beefy man, with a moustache, a sensitive mind and a strong pipe. He played first-class rugby for England, four counties and innumerable clubs for 15 years, was a scratch golfer and had been decorated in the first world war. When I first met him, he was writing about rugby and golf for the Morning Post. In the second war the Daily Telegraph switched him from the sports room into a war correspondent's uniform, where he shone. He was with the US First Army when the shell hit his jeep on the bridge. His book Rugger's an Attacking Game appeared after his death. On the bridge, as the shells dropped, his last recorded words were: 'It's a bit of a nuisance, this.' An American soldier said: 'They don't come much better than that guy.' He must have been, by a long chalk, the oldest man involved in that crucial stroke of the war.
During a lunch chez Channel 4, there was talk with some captains of indus- try about television's treatment of business and industry. The captains said they ob- jected to interviews by people unfamiliar with their business, and who had not done 'Now that the miners have all gone back, somebody's got to find them something to do.' their homework. That's a fair point. Their beau ideal was Jimmy Young, and they wished others would behave as he does. I observed some noses wrinkling among the Channel 4 professionals present. What struck me about the exchanges was the inability to distinguish between sharp and hostile questioning on the air. I once discussed this with the late William Hard- castle, widely and erroneously considered (particularly by Tories) to be hostile and unfair (particularly on BBC's World at One.) We agreed that television and radio interviewing is like tennis. You play best with a pro who knows how to stretch you; worst against the young niece who dollies the ball over the net. Robin Day, pardon, Sir Robin Day (whom all sensible men and women in or out of politics will hope to see fully restored from his heart operation and back soon) is another victim of the dolly ball illusion. Watch it in America, where on the best public affairs programmes the ball comes very fast over the net, and leading public figures have developed the strokes to bang it back. A big part of Arthur Scargill's survival kit in the year's strike lay in this capacity. I never heard him whine about unfair questions. He should get out of the NUM and set up as a tennis coach to some of our tycoons.
Mravelling home on a late train last week, I was joined by sportsmen who had been witnessing Chelsea's defeat 2-3 by Sunderland at Stamford Bridge. To compose my mind, I fell to wondering idly what next day's headlines and comments would bring. 'Chelsea's Night of Shame?' I was spot on. Mr Macfarlane, Minister of Sport, I reflected, would be quoted as saying that it was a tragedy for British football. He said just that. I came unstuck, however, over Mr Ted Croker, FA Secret- ary, who exclaimed: 'You saw a damn good game of football for 80 minutes but I suppose the media will ignore that and sensationalise a few minutes of crowd disturbances.' Amid all the other ritual hand-wringing I found this honest blunt- ness refreshing — and revealing. So long as the turnstiles jingle, I doubt if rioting fans have a lot to worry about.
Aletter from Sir Etienne Dupuch in Nassau. He is mildly miffed because obituaries of the late Sir Arthur Bryant described Sir Arthur's feat of writing a weekly column for the Illustrated London News for 55 years as unprecedented. Dupuch, who is 86, says he produces his column for the Tribune daily, and has been writing it for half a century. Furthermore, he adds, after 65 years as editor, he has an entry in the Guinness Book of Records as the longest serving editor in the history of international journalism. I calculate that in order to emulate him, I would . . . no, I think we won't go into that. Let us just say that Sir Etienne's feat is truly remarkable.
William Deedes
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