Anyway, he wanted to know about Tabitha and her illness and whether we had any other mental cases locked away in the attic at all. I did my best to play it all down, but he didn’t seem entirely convinced. If it gets back to Gaitskell2 (as I’m sure it will) – what will that do to my cabinet prospects?
July 14th 1962
Much righteous indignation in the newspapers over Macmillan’s reshuffle. I must say that sacking seven ministers in one night seems pretty good going to me. For my own part – not that I’m allowed to say this to anyone, of course – I admire (and am pleasantly surprised by) his guts. We could do with the same ruthlessness in our own party, frankly, to get rid of some of the spineless Yes-Men who have allowed the Communists to get a foothold – those ructions at Glasgow merely being the most public example.3 I’d hoped, to be honest, that most of that nonsense would have died with Bevan. What place is there for me if the party drifts further and further to the Left? There’s talk of Wilson becoming the next leader, which would be nothing short of disastrous. The man hates and despises me, for one thing. Never says hello at Conference or in the House. Seven bloody years I’ve sat on these benches and I’m damned if it’s not going to pay off in the end.1
November 8th 1967
Brief but humiliating conversation with Richard Crossman2 in the Tea Room this afternoon. Ostensibly he stopped by to congratulate me on my appointment, but there was an element of mockery there. I could hear it. Bastard. Well, Parliamentary Undersecretary: it’s a step nearer to the front bench, isn’t it? There’s no point in fooling myself, though. The fact is that if I was with the Other Side I’d be near the top of the shadow team by now. I’m batting for the wrong eleven, and it’s getting more and more obvious. Wilson and his pack of cronies don’t have the faintest idea what a man of ability looks like. No vision, any of them.
Nothing but gloom on the financial front, too. Under this blinkered administration it’s becoming impossible for businesses to forge ahead – like trying to run through treacle. Profits down 16% at Amalgamated, 38% at Evergreen. Dorothy seems to be doing well, however, so her offer of a non-executive position starts to look more and more attractive. Should I resign at the next election and get out of this rat race altogether?
Of course, there’s no guarantee that I’d get back in, in any case. Very much a moot point at the moment. Wendy’s little appearance in the local rag won’t have helped at all. Stupid bitch: with that much inside her, she was lucky not to have crashed the thing. Could have been killed.
(Dangerous line of thinking, Winshaw. Very dangerous.)
June 19th 1970
Well, we deserved to lose.1 Now the country will get the most hardline government it will have known since the war, and a good thing too. People need shaking out of their swinish complacency.
Margaret has her cabinet post at last: Education. She will be wonderful, I just know she will.
Keith Joseph2 in charge of Health. He’s a bit of an unknown quantity to me. Hasn’t made a big impression. All I’ve noticed is a slightly manic gleam in his eye, which I find a trifle disconcerting.
My majority down to 1,500. Amazes me that it’s as big as that, frankly – but these people would probably vote for a tailor’s dummy if it wore a badge with ‘Labour’ written on it. What a dismal farce it all is.
March 27th 1973
Debate on Joseph’s NHS reforms3 dragged on for another day. The usual people making the usual footling objections. Our Man making a poor job of his speech. Didn’t stay to hear the whole thing – dropped in and out during the course of the day. The Bill isn’t all it should be, but a step in the right direction: more efficient management structure, more externals (or ‘generalists’ as he calls them) on the various boards – business people, I assume that means. I think this may be it – the beginning of the asset-stripping process. So I must start looking for ways to make my move.
Voting, finally, at about 10.15. Did my duty, as per usual. But will try to buttonhole Sir Keith some time over the next few days and let him know where my allegiances really lie. He looks the sort of chap who can keep a secret.
July 3rd 1974
Forgot to mention it at the time, but Wendy died last week. Came as no surprise to anyone, really – least of all me. 20 aspirin and a big tumbler-full of Scotch. Never did anything by halves, that woman.
Funeral this morning, so whizzed up the motorway and made it just in time. Fairly low-key affair – no family, thank God. Back to London in time to hear Castle’s statement on the nurses’ strike.1Confirmed my worst fears – she wants to phase private beds out of the Health Service altogether. Lunacy. Am beginning to see our election victory (if you can call it that) for what it was: a national disaster. This cannot go on. Wilson can’t govern for long without a majority and when he announces the next polling date, I shall stand down. Please God let it be soon.
October 7th–10th 1975
Attended the Conservative Conference in my new capacity as journalist. The editor wants 8–900 words a day, my brief being to decide whether Margaret’s election2 means a break with old-style Conservatism once and for all. He thought it would be interesting to have someone write about it from a Left perspective, although he may get a surprise when he reads what I have to say.1
Everyone here is remarking on the contrast with last week’s Labour bash in Blackpool. Apparently it was a shambles – the party is tearing itself apart and Wilson has been warning of extremists in the constituency parties, although I could have told him about that ages ago. The Marxists have been worming their way inside for years. It was there for anyone with eyes to see.
The highlight of this week has been Joseph’s magnificent speech. He said there was no such thing as the ‘middle ground’ and the only possible consensus had to be based upon the market economy. Some of the delegates looked a bit stunned, but give them a few years and they’ll see how right he is.
It’s just beginning. I can feel it. Can it really have taken so long to get this far?
November 18th 1977
The Party held me down and kept me back for twenty years. Twenty wasted years. Nothing could give me greater pleasure than to see it unravelling before my eyes. The leadership election was a joke, and now we have a new tenant at Number Ten who can only be described as a political dwarf, with no idea how to govern, and no mandate from the people.2 Every vote has to be fought to the death, and he will have to spend most of his time trying to appease the Liberals.
Reg Prentice3 has announced his defection to the Tories. Fool. Real power lies in the media, and in backroom policy-making: if he hasn’t worked that out after all those years in Parliament, he’s more of a sap than I thought he was. It’s perfectly obvious that Margaret is going to be PM in a year or two, and the important thing now is to start getting the legislation in place. They will have to move fast once they get there.
Work on an NHS bill is progressing. I’ve managed to convince them that the first thing to do is reverse the policy of phasing out private beds. More radical measures will have to wait, but not for long. We need to get a few business types in, to do a major report and show that the present system is nothing but a shambles. If someone from a supermarket chain, for instance, were to come in and see how it operates at the moment … he’d probably have a fit.