Westminster Diary: Volume 2: Farewell to Office 9781350989740, 9781786732682

Table of contents :
Cover Page
Author Bio
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Illustrations
Preface
The Diaries
Index

Citation preview

Lord (Bernard) Donoughue is a British politician, academic, businessman and author. He was Head of the No 10 Policy Unit under Harold Wilson and Jim Callaghan and was a key source for the writers of Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister. He became a Labour peer in 1985 and served as Minister for Agriculture under Blair. His books include Prime Minister: Conduct of Policy Under Harold Wilson and James Callaghan, 1974–79; The Heat of the Kitchen: an autobiography; Downing Street Diary: Volume 1 – With Harold Wilson in No. 10 and Downing Street Diary: Volume 2 – With James Callaghan in No. 10. His latest volume of diaries: Westminster Diary: A Reluctant Minister under Blair was published by I.B.Tauris in 2016. ‘The latest volume of Bernard Donoughue’s wry, witty and warm diaries gives a vivid account of the frustrations of a junior minister in the early years of the Blair government, compensated by the author’s enjoyment of the friendships and encounters which enrich a highly civilised life.’  Lord Butler of Brockwell ‘Bernard Donoughue is a natural diarist. He mixes the personal with the political and provides a frank portrait of the early Blair years in government and the tensions that even then were mounting up. A host of good stories.’  Lord Fowler ‘What a pleasure to read another volume of Bernard Donoughue’s diaries, every bit as good as the earlier ones. I could not put it down. It describes his time as a junior minister in the Department of Agriculture – the pleasure of working under one secretary of state, and the misery under the next. Not surprisingly as a contributor to the scripts of Yes Minister his daily entries are funny, candid and full of insights on Whitehall and Westminster, as well as engaging on his private life as a bon viveur and passionate follower of horse racing.’  Baroness Blackstone ‘Major diarists can often be unreliable and egotistical chroniclers of their times, observing the world through a warped lens. Bernard Donoughue is different. So far his diaries span four volumes; they brim with acute insights and balanced judgements reporting, with a lightness of touch, on his daily life across five decades as an academic, journalist, author, chief policy adviser to two prime ministers, City figure and minister. That is not all. The width of Donoughue’s hinterland embraces literature, music and racing. Unlike most leading diarists, he rides no hobby horses nor carries an ounce of malice; there is a detached twinkle to his prose on every page. He is the outsiders’ insider, stylish and reliable to the final word. His diaries will be essential reading for historians of our age.’  Lord Ryder

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‘It is hard to think of anyone who has been closer to the nuts and bolts of power than Bernard Donoughue. As Head of the Policy Unit in Number Ten for both Harold Wilson and James Callaghan, it was he who really put in place the structure that led to independent advice to ministers, now known as SPADS. With his closest friend Joe Haines, he developed an acute understanding of the political power play and their frequently acerbic analysis has seldom been proved wrong. This book is an important addition to the understanding of British politics, unique in that it also tells the story of the adviser who, after a career as academic, businessman and chronicler, became a minister himself.  Those obsessed with politics will love this gossipy peak behind the scenes, for the rest of us, it is proof positive that Yes Minister is a documentary.’  Baroness Liddell ‘This tremendously enjoyable Volume Two of Bernard Donoghue’s Westminster Diaries is distinguished not only by his acute, often quietly acerbic, political insights but also by the relish with which he describes the wider landscape of a full and varied life in London.’  Lord (Melvyn) Bragg ‘A fascinating and honest memoir of an extraordinary political career. Every page offers riveting, behind-the-scenes insight and sharply observed anecdotes from Westminster in the late twentieth century. These volumes should be on the required reading lists of all aspiring politicians.’ Baroness (Karren) Brady ‘When the history of the Blair government is written, Bernard’s diaries will become an important yardstick for the broadly successful first term.   Broadly sympathetic there is the occasional sense of foreboding of what is to come.  Like all good diarists, he loves gossip and draws from Labour drinking haunts to Conservative drawing rooms, race horsing, the City and academia.  It is a rich well and an intimate one helped by being deeply rooted over 62 years as a devoted party member, the biographer of Herbert Morrison and very close to Wilson and Callaghan. It is fun to read and very interesting on Northern Ireland.’  Lord Owen ‘Bernard Donoughue offers fascinating insights into the often frustrating life of a junior minister beyond ambition coping with both a slippery Permanent Secretary and a Downing Street reluctant to offend vested interests and the media. It is a period piece of high Blairism in the late 1990s before the full souring effects of the TB/GB wars and the Iraq War – spiced by the author’s frequent forays in the linked worlds of racing and the aristocracy.’  Peter Riddell

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W E S T M I N S T E R D I A RY V o l u me 2 Farewell to Office

B E R N A R D D O N OU G H U E DIARIES 1998–99

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Published in 2018 by I.B.Tauris & Co. Ltd London • New York www.ibtauris.com Copyright © 2018 Bernard Donoughue The right of Bernard Donoughue to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or any part thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Every attempt has been made to gain permission for the use of the images in this book. Any omissions will be rectified in future editions. ISBN: 978 1 78453 946 7 eISBN: 978 1 78672 268 3 ePDF: 978 1 78673 268 2 A full CIP record for this book is available from the British Library A full CIP record is available from the Library of Congress Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: available Typeset by Riverside Publishing Solutions

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Contents

List of Illustrations vii Prefaceix The Diaries

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Index336

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Illustrations

All photographs are taken from the author’s personal collection 1. House of Lords by Andrew Festing, author is seated in the centre of the front bench 2. Author and Sarah at a Westminster Hall reception 3. With Sarah at a Masquerade Ball 4. Sarah with Honey in the garden at Fox’s Walk 5. Author and Sarah at the wedding of son Paul to Lucy 6. Son Paul with Georgina Berry with Honey 7. Wedding of daughter Rachel to Jason 8. Daughter Kate 9. With son Steve 10. Col de Bousseils in the Pyrenees above Céret, our French house Mas au Rocher 11. With Sarah on the terrace of Mas au Rocher 12. Holidaying in Ireland 13. Working on the Northern Ireland peace settlement: David and Sophie Montgomery with Ulster Protestant leader David Trimble and wife Daphne. 14. Jack Cunningham and author with MAFF team and advisors 15. With Antony Worrall Thompson at the BBC Good Food Show 16. MAFF ministers – seated Jack Cunningham, standing L-R Elliot Morley, Jeff Rooker and author 17. MAFF minister Jeff Rooker with bovine friend 18. Diary hero, Father Vincent Flanagan 19. Holidaying with friends Nori and Philip Graham 20. With writer friends Sam Brittan and John Gross

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Illustrations

21. Friends Robin Chapman and his wife (and Bernard’s first girlfriend) Jill Booty 22. With Sarah and Jeremy Taylor 23. Sailing down the Nile to the Tomb of Tutankhamun with the Earl and Countess of Carnarvon 24. Skiing in Austria with Philip Graham 25. Winner l’acclamation at Clairfontaine August 2016, with co-owner Sarah and French trainer Stéphane Wattel 26. With Blue Labour friend Maurice Glasman 27. At launch of friend Rachel Reeves MP’s book in the Speaker’s Apartments 28. Lunching with Honey at Fox’s Walk

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Preface

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his is the fourth volume of my published diaries: the first two from within 10 Downing Street covering the Labour governments of Wilson and Callaghan 1974–79 and the following two on my period serving as Minister of Farming and Food in the Blair government 1997–99. A further 20 volumes of raw diaries covering until recent times stand on my bookshelves. Whether any are published – testing my stamina and the patience of my readers and publisher – remains to be decided. This diary volume completes coverage of my time as a very junior minister under Tony Blair. He was the third prime minister I served and it was an interesting privilege to be able to compare them: each outstandingly able (and perhaps inevitably flawed) in very different ways. The volume ends when, at my own request and with huge personal relief, I resigned from the then Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food (MAFF) – hence the title ‘Farewell to Office’. It had been quite a memorable experience. I was lucky to have such wonderful ministerial colleagues as Jack Cunningham and Jeff Rooker. I may at times, in my comments, appear harsh on MAFF. If so, I apologise belatedly to its former citizens for that injury. But some explanation and evidence for why MAFF no longer exists as a separate Whitehall department is probably apparent within these pages. However, I trust that my uncomfortable life at MAFF (shared over the decades by other ministers of both governing parties, and even some officials) is not presented too heavily for the readers’ pleasure. The frequent comparisons made with the 1980s Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister television programmes (where I was an editorial adviser) are transparent, and I hope that readers will enjoy them. Diaries should also raise a smile. These pages are certainly not part of an anti-Whitehall position on my part. My happy experience working alongside the remarkable officials in No. 10 cured me of any trace of that. I believe that the British Civil

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Service, although no longer displaying all the Rolls-Royce qualities of 50 years ago, is still a vital and probably the most valuable part of our governing machine. Being a junior minister, especially in a junior department, is rarely a satisfying experience for politicians. It is valuable only as an apprenticeship training for assumed later high office in government. That could not be my personal experience of governing, since my career actually happened in reverse. I began my Whitehall career in 1974 close to the top of the political greasy pole, in exciting 10 Downing Street. I concluded towards the bottom (and not in my preferred policy areas of economics, arts or sports). That low conclusion was good for my humility if not for personal satisfaction. The resulting disappointment perhaps clouds bits of these diaries. But I trust it does not remove any value they offer as a record of political life in the House of Lords and of junior ministerial life in Whitehall during the 1990s. I spent many hours of many years writing these diaries. But I no longer do so. This termination may be a relief to friends, colleagues and others who prefer that their wise words and brave actions are no longer recorded (most, I suspect, do not care much either way). For any serious diarist to stop writing can be a disturbing experience. It had been, for me, an almost addictive habit. My mind automatically recorded words and observed events in preparation for the later writing. Most diarists write simply because that is what diarists do. I stopped abruptly, without any prior decision to do so. I ceased on the day in 2015 when Mr Corbyn was elected leader of the Labour Party. Having watched the electoral result declared on television, and considered it all day, I sat down at my computer that evening – but found it impossible, indeed even too painful, to proceed. I sensed that this decision (taken by barely 3 per cent of the numbers voting Labour at the previous general election, yet curiously described by Mr Corbyn as a great mandate) marked the serious wounding of the moderate, non-Marxist Labour Party of which I have been a devoted member for 62 years. I could not describe the following phase in its history as the hard left tightened their grip. Looking back from now, in 2017, when the present prospects for the people of the Western world seem more unstable, turbulent and threatening than at any time in my adult lifetime, the memories described in this volume of diaries portray a London, a Britain and a Europe two decades ago that was for most people (I know not all) more prosperous, secure, socially friendly and almost cosy than today. I now enjoy reflecting nostalgically on that relatively comfortable British existence and trust others will too.

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Preface

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The task of editing these particular volumes was testing. The original diary texts were voluminous, amounting to some double what remains in the published form. I am deeply grateful for the skilled and dedicated assistance I received from my loving wife Sarah and daughter Kate, and from my ever-supportive editors, Joanna Godfrey and Sophie Campbell.

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T he D iaries

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Bernard Donoughue Diaries 1998–99

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Tuesday 6 January 1998

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aggie, my friendly ministry driver, took me up to London. Not much going on in the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food (MAFF) office, so I cleared papers and then went to Jermyn Street to buy some country shoes. Gave terrific dinner in the evening. Jacob and Serena Rothschild, Claus and Mary Moser, Max and Jane Rayne, Clive and Sue Hollick. All in great gossipy form. Talk to Clive about the suggested Ladbrokes/Coral bookmaking merger and how it is a chance to build up the Tote and save racing. Secretary of State Margaret Beckett has asked his advice on the deal. Jane and I discussed at length Graham Greene’s Italian castle.

Wednesday 7 January 1998 In early for the ministerial meeting in Jack Cunningham’s room; no officials nor ministerial colleague Elliot Morley. Discussed the coming year and Jack produced my pre-Xmas note on the possible future of the department as a wider Ministry of Rural Affairs. Agreed to produce a memo for No. 10 on the future of MAFF, and I took minister of state Jeff Rooker and Jack’s special adviser, Cathy McGlynn, to my room to prepare that. Jack also said that he had read in the press the MAFF section of the recent New Year’s honours list with interest, but no more knowledge than the man in the street, as the department had not shown it to him beforehand. Said again he wants me to handle that appointments side. Also asked me for a memo on my local farming liaison groups. Cathy told me that an official had said to her that they did not care about our ministerial meetings: ‘As none of us offici­als are there, nothing will happen about its decisions.’ Probably true. Lunch at local Jenny Lo with Tessa Blackstone’s son, Ben, who is very nice and bright. Says Chris Smith is under terrible pressure and has little ministerial support. Took train to the West Country with Peter Grimley, my clever private secretary. Ahead were storms and floods. Finally found the small hotel, where, inevitably, the electricity failed. Went off as I climbed in my bath, so lay there in the dark, getting colder since the heating was off; couldn’t get out or see in a strange room or find my clothes. Half an hour after our working dinner was due to start, Grimley arrived with a large torch and beamed it on to me naked in the bath, saying, ‘Minister, I think we should start the meeting now.’ It was like a Whitehall farce.

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I was grumpy, having presciently told our local officials to make sure the hotel had heat and light. Finally dressed with the help of the torch and went down to eat a delicious meal by candlelight. The farmers spent the evening asking for more subsidies. I retired to my dark, cold room and put my raincoat on the bed. Spent the night listening to the howling wind and lashing rain. Told Grimley that my father believed in the Little People, and, if a day or a trip started badly, he concluded the Little People were against it or you, and you should give up and go home to bed. I was tempted to take the late train back, convinced the visit would go badly from now on. But the hotel people were helpful, when they finally got the electricity to work.

Thursday 8 January 1998 Nice breakfast then off to a series of meetings around Exmoor. First met a nice group including a bright vet at a farm high in the hills. Usual story of farming woes but some good suggestions. Then to excellent launch of new £3 million 5b (environmental aid) project bringing 50 new jobs to the SouthWest. In National Trust house, with show of local speciality foods. This was very satisfying, as I have worked hard to give the South-West a lift and take the focus away from the bad farming news. The atmosphere of the participants was good. But the moment I was interviewed by BBC TV, I realised all was not well. Not interested in good news of 50 new jobs, just wanted to rant on about how unhappy farmers were and how ‘New Labour has betrayed them.’ I told Grimley I would not give the BBC any more interviews in the region. But the local newspaper people, as in the North, were much better. Putting tough questions, but in an informed and civilised way and not just interested in tabloid headlines. Toured through windswept Exmoor countryside. Frustrated that portable telephones would not work anywhere. Basic rule of portables is that they work well in mainstream places where there are lots of ordinary telephones available. But the moment you get where you need them – Exmoor or walking on the Yorkshire moors – they have no service. We were trying to get hold of the office to see if I should be at the big EU meeting with President Santer and the commissioners. The office said no, but I had heard on the radio that all the other junior ministers dealing with Europe were there. I don’t trust MAFF to promote its ministers. Off to meet the National Farmers Union (NFU) on a remote Exmoor farm. The moment we arrived I knew something was wrong. Our ‘hosts’ tried to stop us on a narrow path surrounded by the media. It was a set-up.

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They were going to give the TV the headlines that the minister was blockaded by furious farmers. We avoided that and drove to the farm. The NFU were angry at that, and took us to a filthy barn where they launched a series of attacks on me, shouting ‘rubbish’ when I replied – these were the people who had invited me for tea at the farm. They were furious I would not let the media into the barn. So, when I left I found the only exit blocked by a mob waving banners, clearly arranged by the local NFU, with all the usual media present. So I got out of the car and walked through the mud to mix with them and listen to them. Actually, I preferred the mob to the official NFU at the farm. At least they were honest and doing an open picket. I deliberately walked among them and shook hands and they became subdued and let me through. The blockade threatened to make me miss my train, but we just got to Tiverton in time. The train got slower and slower and was half an hour late in Reading. That is four visits to the South-West and every train late. Privatisation clearly works as we feared it would. It was a relief to be back at Fox’s Walk – and especially to see Honey, who is now such a pretty Jack Russell, so alert and interested in everything.

Friday 9 January 1998 Peter Savill, who is in a great racing battle with John Wakeham, phoned me to offer me the chairmanship of the British Horse Racing Board (BHB) to replace Wakeham – very attractive, but might be tricky going in during a bloodletting. Perhaps should stay a minister a bit longer as I am beginning to enjoy some of it. Worked on two memos for Jack. One on the reorganisation of MAFF, including absorbing some of Prescott’s Environment empire (won’t enamour us to him). Then I did a memo on the new local Rural Liaison Groups, which I have developed in the regions to replace the farmers’ panels we abolished on taking office. I suggest Jack adopts them as part of the departmental reorganisation. This took most of the day. But had a nice brisk walk in the sun. Also had a long chat with my friend, David Montgomery, about Northern Ireland, where the secretary of state, Mo Mowlam, today visited the Maze IRA prisoners to keep the talks process on course. Very brave and it won them over. But it reveals the desperation of the talks process, which is going nowhere. Interestingly, Mo began with an apology to the relatives of the victims of terrorists she was now meeting. That may reflect the letter I sent

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to Peter Mandelson on Monday describing how Sarah (Berry) and daughter Sasha resented seeing, unalerted, on TV, the release of the monster who murdered Tony, their husband and father. They don’t object to the policy, or anything which might bring peace, but they deserve warning.

Saturday 10 January 1998 Started another beautiful morning thinking I might at last, just conceivably, be having some influence. Leading the news was the announcement that Blair had a peace plan for Northern Ireland. His plan was exactly the scheme that I sent to him on 5 June: the Unionists programme for an elected Administrative Assembly, with powersharing committees and a council of the British Isles etc. It originated with Trimble’s people and with David Montgomery, but I rewrote half of it and still have the drafts in my file. Curiously, Blair has never acknowledged it. The only reference was in a phone call I had with Jonathan Powell a month ago, where at the end he said in passing, ‘By the way, thank you for your Irish stuff, which is very helpful.’ Clearly, as I suggested to him in my covering letter in June, Blair has decided the existing talks are failing and he must have a fall-back initiative to prevent a vacuum. Next, I picked up The Times and there in the business section was a lead article saying that No. 10 was very unhappy with Geoffrey Robinson’s Individual Savings Account (ISA) scheme. This may not have anything to do with the detailed critique of the ISA which I had sent to the Prime Minister (PM) and Powell on Xmas Eve, but it seems likely. Yet again, no acknowledgement of my letter from No. 10. So we may be having influence, if not on Agriculture. But the curious thing is the absence of any acknowledgement. I recall that, when I first went into Downing Street with Harold Wilson, he said to me that all communications from ministers or MPs must be answered within 48 hours and signed by him as PM. I rarely get an answer within six months. I accept that I don’t matter. But if this applies to all colleagues, then Blair will get into trouble. If he scorns them, and the usual courtesies, when he needs them they won’t be there – as with Mrs Thatcher in 1990, when all the people she had snubbed sat on their hands and refused to vote for her. It is because he sees himself as a supreme presidential PM, elected by the people, with no obligations to Parliament, the party or his colleagues, for some of whom he has contempt. He won’t last ten years. Talking to Joe Haines, he recalled how he had sent to Alastair Campbell the suggestion to hold elections on weekends and did not get a reply, although the

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idea was later flown as a No. 10 thought. He had the same experience with his help on Blair’s conference speech. Blair thanked him for his memo of general advice, but Alastair admitted that he had not shown to Blair Joe’s long list of detailed amendments – yet many of them were in the speech. Joe thinks that the No. 10 staff – Powell, Campbell or whoever – steal others’ ideas and present them to Blair as their own. I must remember that in future. Must make sure other people see copies. Good thing I keep copies with the diary.

Sunday 11 January 1998 Nice misty morning. To mass where Father Flanagan told us ‘to be ourselves; don’t change because of religion or anything I say, nor even for the Millennium’ (which he hates). Rest of morning reading newspapers; mainly full of Robin Cook’s mistress and nasty comments by his aggrieved wife. Robin is certainly weakened by all this. Had a long telephone talk to Peter Savill in Ireland. He is in open war with Wakeham at the BHB, wants to force him out as chairman, wants me to replace him as chairman, and claims he has a majority for it. Very tempting. Would love to do it in 12 months’ time. But am so involved in the ministerial thing at present that I think it would be wrong now. Phoned old friend, Trevor West, in Cork. He is still very keen for me to meet PM Bertie Ahern who, 25 years ago, I ‘marked (for life)’, as Ahern later told me, in the great Anglo-Irish Parliament football game we arranged. Particularly relevant now the Irish thing bubbling. I asked Trevor to contact his political friends in the Republic and ask them not to rubbish the new administrative assembly plan before they have studied it. Immediately after, David Montgomery phoned. Wants me to come with him to Dublin to meet Ahern. I will try to arrange that with Trevor. David also wants me to go with him to the North to talk to John Hume, but am more wary of that, as a Labour agriculture minister; don’t have the ‘football’ excuse and might be seen as crossing wires with colleagues.

Monday 12 January 1998 Quiet morning. Went up for a meeting with Richard Packer on honours and appointments. I tried to feed in a wider range of names. But I feel they will do the usual thing of nodding their heads and doing nothing. Told Grimley that we should be called the DNH – the Department where Nothing Happens.

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Afterwards, son Stephen came in with his clever young friend Barry White, who is research officer to the Ulster Unionists. Said he had heard of me as the Unionists’ middle man to No. 10, but was not aware how much drafting I had done. Discussed the whole Ulster situation, where he is knowledgeable. He doesn’t get on with Trimble, because he doesn’t know what he thinks or wants, Trimble never communicates with his colleagues, a complete loner. Even before meetings with Blair in No. 10, the Unionists don’t have a meeting to discuss their agreed position. Last time, at the end of the meeting, Blair said it was better if they did not brief the press; they agreed and the moment they left, Martin McGuinness was straight on the phone to journalists. Barry said their party meetings were ‘embarrassing’, the level of discussion abysmal. There was no prior preparation for any meetings. There is a lot of knife-work and several are trying to get Trimble out; but he does nothing to gather support. Barry said Blair is very good, regularly phoning Trimble to keep him informed, but Trimble contributes little. The Unionists have no strategic approach and do no collective preparation. Trimble trusts no one, not even Burnside, and irrationally hates Mo. (Mo told Montgomery that her role was to be ‘a punch-bag for Trimble’s demons’.) In the evening, went to the great Robin Butler farewell dinner as Cabinet Secretary at Middle Temple Hall. It was really one of the most remarkable social occasions I have ever attended. Nearly 300 guests, many genuine friends of Robin, with three ex-prime ministers (Heath, Thatcher and Major) and Blair, away in Japan, represented by Derry Irvine. Of deeper power was the squadron of some two-dozen ex-permanent secretaries. It was a brave and riotous occasion: half the British Whitehall establishment at dinner, half like a rugby club bash. Robin set the tone with a hilarious speech describing his career and funny episodes involving those present. He referred to about a dozen people by name – and I was one, ‘my old friend who educated me in the ways of the Labour Party’. I was very touched and a bit wet-eyed as I saw half my professional life having its main chapter closed. Terry Burns gave a funny follow-up, with recollections of the various sides of Robin’s character – ‘Bossy Butler’, ‘Mean Butler’, ‘Sporty Butler’ etc. Best was the time when he split his trousers in the office and, having nothing in his diary, sent them to be mended, sitting at his desk in his pants. But then the Attorney General arrived with a legal crisis. Having not explained his dilemma at the beginning, Robin had to keep moving himself and his chair so the Attorney General did not see his embarrassment, and could not rise to welcome him or shake his hand on going, or let him get too near the desk.

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Robin has been a great friend to me and a hilarious companion. Much of our time together has been spent laughing. He has none of the pomposities or wariness of the average top mandarin. He covers the whole span of my political diaries, over 23 years to today. I shall miss him greatly at the heart of government. It gave me security as a mere junior minister having a friend there at the centre. But hope to go walking with him. Going in to Middle Temple, I met Jonathan Powell, who now has a Kevin Keegan head of tight curls (I once had that naturally, but, unlike Jonathan’s, mine grew looser and frayed as I grew older). We discussed Ireland, where the current plan goes wider than the one I submitted to him and has obviously been worked on beneficially in Whitehall. On the new ISAs, he said the PM has taken my draft to Japan – three weeks after I put it in. Much of fascination at the dinner. Joe Haines was across the way, though he left early as usual to be home in Kent with Rene. Most fascinating was watching Thatcher’s face while Robin praised Heath; she was writhing as if in physical agony. Afterwards, I mentioned it to Robin as he was leaving and he said it became worse than that. Thatcher was on his right, Heath opposite, and Major diagonal. Thatcher launched an attack on Major for not finishing off Saddam at the end of the Iraq War. So Major came back and slagged her off for selling out Hong Kong. Heath’s shoulders quivered and he said they were both right about one another (then he dozed off). Robin said it was hard to keep them apart. Such are the fidelities of political friendships. Thatcher seemed very old and bitter and Geoffrey Howe said to me, ‘she is completely mad.’ I chatted to Derry Irvine and to Peter Mandelson beforehand, then later to City friend David Scholey about Robert Maxwell – he said, ‘the test of class is if you can recover from an experience like that.’ Ummm! Then to Jeffrey Archer and Major about cricket – Major is really very approachable and decent, looking so much happier than when in office. To John Hunt (who clearly could not have rallied such a hilarious gathering for his earlier retirement as Cabinet Secretary, and, like most of us, would not have risked it). To Virginia Bottomley. And to John Wakeham, who told me that ‘unless Savill and the rest of the British Horseracing Board climb down and come round to my position, I will resign. That will shake them.’ I doubt it, since on the phone at the weekend Peter said that he would not compromise an inch, in the hope of forcing Wakeham to go. I really enjoyed it. Amusingly, I had left my dinner jacket in the country and wore just a dark suit with a big bow tie. Nobody noticed until I told them. Home at midnight feeling high and good, though a deep sadness about time passing, friends aging and retiring, and doors closing.

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Tuesday 13 January 1998 Jack had come back a day early from his Caribbean visit, where it mainly rained, to the relief of all of us not included in the party. We had a three-line whip – and lost the first vote. Great shenanigans after this, because the Tories didn’t want to win on a wrecking amendment. Some of ours were missing and the Tories thought that was on purpose, to provide ammunition for the reform of the Lords. In fact, the usual cock-up. At 5.00 pm, we had the first meeting this year of our Labour Lords back-bench agricultural committee – only five present, and that represents more than 100 per cent of our total farming knowledge. Still useful to get them together in support. After that came a tense Racing and Bloodstock Committee (R&B), as Wakeham had resigned from the BHB this morning. He came to tell me about it before Prime Minister’s Questions (PQs), saying the racing people were ‘all impossible’ and looking relieved to get out. So he wasn’t there to give his scheduled address to the R&B. Instead, Peter Savill presented his great new corporate plan for racing. A bit too long and technical for this audience, but still the best analysis of the financial dynamics of racing I have seen and heard. Afterwards I took Peter for a drink in the Lords bar and celebrated his victory. He again said he wanted me to be the chairman of the BHB and I again declined, though I would love it. The chance has come too soon – like the Tote – and I am not ready to give up being a minister, which I now begin to enjoy. Of course, Blair may solve that dilemma in his next reshuffle. A bit later, influential Tory peer, Marcus Kimball, came up to me, said he had heard people wanted me to chair the BHB and said he hoped I wouldn’t since ‘it is more important to have you at Agriculture’. Earlier, had half-hour with Labour colleague Ann Mallalieu, and so missed PQs. She lives on Exmoor and said that last week the local NFU were actually pleased with my visit and embarrassed by how it was hijacked by a few local Tory farmers.

Wednesday 14 January 1998 In to the 8.30 am ministerial meeting. Jack in ebullient form and full of praise for our memo on the countryside – and for mine on the Rural Liaison Groups. He went to No. 10 last night with the countryside memo and talked with Jonathan Powell about us absorbing some of Environment and got a good reception. Next will talk to Prescott, but he wants the PM’s support. Said he would adopt my Rural Group memo as policy.

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I talked to Liz Lloyd from the Number Ten Policy Unit about genetically modified crops (‘GMs’). No. 10 are very concerned we don’t get into a trade war with the USA (Blair’s main concern), but equally that we do enough to control GMs to please our Greens. So a delicate – and perhaps impossible – balance. To the Queen Elizabeth Hall, where Jack launched the new Assured Beef Scheme, with very nice Tory Jamie Lindsay, as chairman. Good speech, and he was tough with the farming whingers asking for ever more subsidies. Lunch at Lords with great cricketer, Colin Cowdrey, and met David Montgomery there. Hadn’t told me before then that he is getting married to lovely Sophie this week. But we slipped away to the Prince’s Chamber to discuss how to handle the Ulster situation after the talks have, hopefully, succeeded. Will be very vulnerable to disruption of the settlement from extremists of both sides. Went into the chamber to support Margaret Jay in her PQ on banning beef on the bone and not banning cigarette smoking. She did very well and used my written answer on how, for us to secure the lifting of the beef export ban, it needed to have a ban on suspect beef on the bone. Interestingly, the Tory front bench did not intervene. Obviously don’t want to be accused of hindering lifting the beef ban. Stayed on for a debate on privacy and press intrusion. Andrew McIntosh for us played his usual line as spokesman for unreconstructed 1960s woolly liberalism, arguing that self-regulation is sufficient, despite daily evidence that the press applies it only when it doesn’t spoil a good story. Met Jim Molyneux, the former leader of the Ulster Unionists, and had a good chat. He said, ‘You and I are old soldiers together from long ago’, referring to Callaghan’s private deal with them in return for their support 1978–79. He described his hilarious relationship with Michael Foot at that time, operating a deal that was not a deal. Nice man. I could trust him, which is sadly not true of the present Ulster Unionists gang. Attended the Commons Agriculture Committee and spoke a little – Jack had returned to Newcastle as Maureen was in hospital. Then to see old friend Helen Liddell in the Treasury and go to Chancellor Gordon Brown’s party in No. 11. Gordon had discussed my ISA plan with her, said he liked it, but wants more details on how it would operate. Sadly, she cannot see any time for that in the near future. I suggested I sit down with him, Geoffrey Robinson and a couple of experts to hammer out a solution, but Helen said, ‘Gordon doesn’t operate that way.’ The No. 11 party was crowded with local Labour people from the North-East and we left quickly. But interesting to see Gordon glad-handing and networking very effectively.

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He is building a party constituency for his future leadership bid much better than Blair does.

Thursday 15 January 1998 Started with briefing meeting for the Agriculture Council next week. Kate Timms and Andy Lebrecht were very good and made me aware that the best people in MAFF are funnelled into the European Common Agricultural Policy (‘CAP’) side; any one of them would make a better permanent secretary than Packer. I particularly like Kate Timms. Alf Dubs also attended for Northern Ireland; I am keen to involve them, as we are making a little progress on lifting the beef ban there. I am fond of Alf, who is completely genuine and has no side. Then an excellent meeting on gangmasters, who organise and exploit casual labour for fruit and horticulture – often foreigners who hope to become (illegal) immigrants. I said that I wanted more radical action, with gangmasters being forced to register and being expelled and prosecuted if they erred. Anyway, will have a useful code of conduct. So a really satisfying morning. Lunch at the Lords and then to front bench: the next few weeks contain an ominous number of agricultural issues – and when it is not agriculture it is a three-line whip. Afterwards saw Marcus Kimball, who has down a threatening prayer of amendment to defeat our beef on the bone regulations. If it passes we are scuppered. But Marcus is very helpful as always. Tells me he put it down only because the Tory chief whip asked him to (while telling our chief whip, Denis Carter, that he had nothing to do with it) and Marcus promised he would withdraw the motion after speaking to it. (That is my cross-party politics paying off.) He said he was still concerned about the prospective hunting ban, and I promised that I would vote against it. So there was a political trade in which each of us was happy with our side to it. Home for intensive private paper work with our old friend Della and then out to the pictures with sons, Stephen and Paul. Saw LA Confidential, which was great fun and took me completely out of my problems. Walked home through the Mall and felt restored.

Friday 16 January 1998 Did a huge boring red box. Lunch at the Lords with the Reading Institute of Agricultural Management. My speech much too long and boring, so I told civil servants a maximum of half that in future.

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Saturday 17 January 1998 Finally watched Lucky Arsenal scrape a draw with Coventry when they should have lost 5–0. All the day made better by lovely little Honey, who is into everything and a joy in our life. Could not bear it if we now lost her – as we nearly did recently down the rabbit holes under the brambles. Also the new ducks from Jacob Rothschild, Carolinas etc., are settling on to the pond and inhabiting their pretty little floating houses. All this nature life brings me enormous pleasure.

Sunday 18 January 1998 Phoned by David Ashforth of Sporting Life to interview me about racing and the BHB. Then back to this diary story, which absorbs much of the little free time I have at weekends. The Mail has a nasty piece claiming the DTI Maxwell report is due to be published soon, allegedly embarrassing to Helen Liddell and me. Usual rubbish. I have been assured privately (and legally) that the report will be benign for me. Helen is not even involved and told me she was never even interviewed by the inspectors. Mere facts like that don’t deter the Mail. David Montgomery told me a lovely story of how, when he was editor of the News of the World, he was libelled in another paper. He consulted the lawyers. They said ‘Yes, it is a clear libel. But you are editor of the News of the World so you have no reputation to damage. That will be £1500.’ Phoned Anne Heseltine. Talked first to Michael, who is clearly loving being back in business, though saying it is much more professional and competitive than when last he did it. Stated there is nothing like being a minister. Then discussed hunting with Anne. She has heard that the great countryside rally on 1 March is being taken over by the farming militants who want it to be a protest about our beef policy. She thinks that is quite wrong and so do I. Tell her I am willing to attend and help, but if they are going to behave like Scargill and the mineworkers then I will leave them to their fate and so will Jack. Still have not opened huge red box with Brussels briefing.

Monday 19 January 1998 Spent the morning finishing huge red box; still no time to cover agricultural briefing for tomorrow – two huge files. Then the Eurostar to Brussels for the crucial start of the UK Presidency of the European Union (EU).

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Usual humiliating crawl through Kent then into France and huge speed. The inferiority of British infrastructure decision-making and the ineptitude of the previous Tory government transport policy are encapsulated in that contrast. Booked in at fine Conrad Hotel and then to a party for our staff and the Brussels press corps. Jack already there and made a good speech. Afterwards, went with him plus Alf Dubs and our officials, including Packer and Grimley, to a superb restaurant. Had delicious fish and more good wine than I usually do. Jack expressed anger at my exclusion from the recent EU Presidential lunch at Lancaster House. He knows that this move was a straight ‘anti-minister job’ by his office, pretending I was not supposed to be there when all other relevant junior ministers, including some – not, like me, chairing Councils – were included. Afterwards, Alf, Jack and I went back to the hotel bar for some whiskies. Jack, usually discreet and silent, soon launched forth in a massive attack on Gordon Brown. And, in passing, criticised Blair for going along with it. That Blair must at last see this with the experience of the Brown biography by Paul Routledge. The book was an overt attack on Blair. But he was not tough enough, and not interested enough in the dark guts of politics to take Gordon on. Jack reported he had told Blair at John Smith’s funeral that he should stand for the leadership and that Brown was unsuitable. Jack gave numerous examples of how Brown had manoeuvered against him. But Blair had given in to Brown and moved Jack out of his foreign affairs area of expertise so they could put Robin Cook there (out of the political limelight), and then Jack out of the Heritage department so they could put Chris Smith there and not at the Health Service (in case he weakly spent too much Treasury money there on the NHS). Gordon had also used his press spokesman Charlie Whelan to brief the press against Jack. Jack was clearly angry. At Brown for his damage to Jack’s career. But also with Blair for going along with this and doing nothing to protect his own natural friends, like Jack, from these predatory actions. Jack has had several rows with Blair over this, but he seems unwilling or unable to control Brown. All the bile of the Blair–Brown problem was spilling out. I could see it in No. 10 terms. Wilson and Callaghan would never have allowed Chancellor Healey to establish a barony where the king’s writ did not run. Gordon chairs the main economic Cabinet committee – and shrewdly makes sure it rarely meets, so ministers never discuss or criticise his policies. Wilson and Callaghan chaired the equivalent economic ­committees when prime minister: to hold the chancellor to account and

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make him explain his economic policies to his fellow senior Cabinet ministers. To re-establish control, Blair must do several things. He must harness the Treasury under himself as First Lord of the Treasury, including having his own man there as a minister of state. He must, as Wilson and I did, have top economic experts advising him from the Policy Unit. He should also get a proper political office in No. 10, composed of experienced party toughies, who help him build his own base of political support in the Cabinet, in government and especially in the parliamentary party. So far, Tony has successfully appealed to the wider public and the press – the basis on which he won the election – and to the chief executives and celebrity glamour stars with whom he feels socially comfortable. But now things are starting to go wrong he needs a better political base close to home. In his present prime minister’s office, Jonathan Powell and David Miliband are impressively clever but have little knowledge or experience of Labour politics; Campbell has observed them, but is totally absorbed in tomorrow’s headlines. Blair does have supporters in the Cabinet – Jack, Mo Mowlam, Jack Straw, Derry Irvine, probably Frank Dobson, but he does little to support any of them. He needs to bring them in, consult them, protect them from enemies, and try to add to them able colleagues such as Blunkett and a few of the bright youngsters such as Helen Liddell (who Blair thinks is a Brownite but is not), and promote natural friends such as Peter Kilfoyle (who should run his political office) and Graham Allen. Then he should visit the tea rooms regularly and stroke the wrists of the bright young ones who are basically loyal but presently under-occupied and prone to mischief. He never goes there, whereas Jim and Harold insisted on going there every week, whatever the pressures. Taking with them their parliamentary private secretaries, who were required to whisper which MP’s wife was in hospital, or had just had a child, so the prime minister could display personal knowledge or concern or congratulations. That wins support for life. Tony does none of that. Admittedly, the Parliamentary Labour Party (PLP) is not as important as it was, but when things go wrong it still matters, being a potential basis of either loyal support or of disenchanted disloyalty. Blair does nothing to cultivate the party – indeed often giving the impression he doesn’t like it. That helps at election times, bridging him across the middle ground to moderate Tories. But it is wrong in the political long-term, reminding me of former US president Jimmy Carter, telling me in Washington at the beginning of his reign how he would ‘ignore Congress and the Democratic Party and reach out to the great American people’. That ended in disaster.

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I recall how, last week, Helen Liddell told me she went to a meeting with Tony and it was clear he couldn’t quite remember who she was – he will need her, and many other such natural loyalists. He seems to think that providing he manipulates the media and gets cheers from the pavements and the mass meetings, it will all be OK. That helps, but it is not enough. When things go wrong, the media will be on the other side sniping; they understandably have no loyalty or sense of past favours. And the pavement crowds will thin, anyway having no say in the inner political battles that will shape the fate of his government. The PLP will not sit on its hands in those battles, and at least will be out there briefing the media, for Blair’s good or ill. Tony’s strength and weakness is that he finds the necessary battles of party politics petty, boring and beneath him. Meanwhile, Gordon Brown is shrewdly holding his wrist-stroking parties in No. 11. His policies will be unpopular for the next two years, while he keeps the freeze on public expenditure. But then he will have a huge war chest to spend on every MP’s favourite project and can make his move. To me the test will be whether Blair builds up his political advice in No. 10, broadens his support in the Cabinet and PLP, and uses his reshuffle to strengthen himself and weaken Brown. And he cannot build his own friendly base unless he cultivates some friends beyond his office and Mandelson. If not, he is lost. I don’t dismiss Brown, as Jack tends to do. He is a serious, highly intelligent and educated, and obsessively hard-working professional political operator – and they tend to go far between elections. Alf Dubs, who is charming and with integrity, but not a political trader, sat with his mouth open. Spending most of the time in Ulster or the Lords, he had no idea what was going on in the centre of Labour’s political cauldron. It was 1.15 am when I signed the impressive bar bill.

Tuesday 20 January 1998 Woke ragged. Had forgotten to bring any aspirins – and, more seriously, any cufflinks – which meant I headed off to my first Agriculture Council in my beautiful white shirt with its sleeves rolled up. Fortunately Grimley, impeccable as ever, carried both spare Disprins and a spare pair of cheap cufflinks, so I put them on in the car. Travelled with Jack to a briefing meeting in the huge Council building, deciding what to say on bananas, on environment schemes and on the beef crisis. Quite excited to go to my first Agriculture Council as the UK representative, aged 63, and never having expected this. I rewrote my text for

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each intervention and didn’t feel nervous when I spoke – anyway most other ministers are not listening, but sit there gossiping with their teams. In the breaks, I introduced myself to the various ministerial players, including the lean Breton French minister and the Spanish ‘Appassionata’ , Loyola de Palacio, who is prettier at close quarters, though carrying the severe aura of an Opus Dei part-time nun. I sensed that at the least hint of male appreciation, she would snip off one’s testicles while praying for one’s black soul. Also had a long chat with nice Joe Walsh from Ireland. Immediately hit it off over racing – he is deeply upset that Jack has fixed the March Council to coincide with the opening of the Cheltenham Festival race meeting. We both protested about this to Jack, who later reported it wryly but deadpan to the Council. Lunch was curious and ominous. Jack invited all the ministers to lunch to ask for suggestions on running the Council more efficiently under him. They all spent a long time explaining at enormous length why it needed just self-discipline on their part to speak more briefly. They went on so long on this that not everybody could get in before the session resumed at 3.00 pm! Worse was that the French and Germans, followed by the Luxemburgers and the Greeks, obviously by prior arrangement and completely outside the agenda, attacked Robin Cook for his recent statement pointing out that over 50 per cent of the EU budget was spent on only 4 per cent of the population (farmers). This is just a fact, but an uncomfortable one for them, so they don’t want it mentioned. Ominous that they are obviously preparing the way for saying the British Presidency is biased and should not be allowed to advance CAP reform. After lunch there was a sleepy atmosphere, but we droned on, most not listening to contributors, chatting or reading newspapers, finishing shortly after 5.00 pm. I found it fascinating. The basic point is that continental people, though our good allies and culturally impressive, are fundamentally different from island Brits – as De Gaulle pointed out long ago. The EU is a Franco-German operation with little sense of democratic accountability. Most of the smaller countries are happy to go along with this because they are financially net beneficiaries. The Nordics are better and more objective, but have few votes. We are a big payer and complain. The Germans are the biggest payer – but don’t complain because they get many non-financial political benefits from being at the centre and running the whole EU show. I am sceptical of the Brussels operation, bureaucratic and monopolistic, though I am certainly not anti-European. In my view, it would probably be worse for us to be out of the EU (our governments have never seriously examined the alternative options). On balance, I feel it is probably less

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risky and certainly less disruptive for us to stay in. Anyway, I am a cultural European – though that has nothing to do with the CAP – which I am here to try to change. The Germans delayed us by raising the question of their current plague of swine fever, where they will surely ask for compensation. I was tempted to intervene to suggest that their delegation should be isolated and inoculated. But I was advised by our officials never to joke in Brussels because nobody except the Irish get it, or even realise one is joking. More ominous was when Appassionata delayed us further to report at length on the recent unusual weather in Spain. Clearly, leading to a request for farm subsidies whenever the weather is unhelpful, hot, cold, wet or dry. I imagine it will be £100 million for whenever the temperature is cold below 15°C – and £200 million for when it is heating above 20°c, to help the Mediterranean regimes. Certainly the Spaniards and Greeks will be developing thermometers which err either side.

Wednesday 21 January 1998 Good ministerial meeting. Jack angry at our press department who publicly confirm stories about MAFF policy questions that have still not come before MAFF ministers. Afterwards, bright Liz Lloyd came to my room and we discussed our memo to realign the department. She was supportive but said it had to wait until the summer. She wouldn’t say why. But this clearly referred to a reshuffle. Does it mean that Prescott, the main obstacle to our plans to grab some of his turf, will be moved, thus easing the way? Or Jack the other way? Phoned Andrew Higgins about our making an extra appointment to the dog quarantine committee to neutralise the hostile vet who the department have placed there. He is very happy with progress so far and with chairman Ian Kennedy. Promises to phone me to report every few weeks – and me at home so the officials cannot listen in. Then a briefing for my afternoon’s big agricultural speech. The official draft was useless so I sat down and in 20 minutes wrote my speech – which later drew approval from my assistant secretary, Simon. Lunch at Simply Nico with Mark Mardell of the BBC. He was surprised at all the Brown–Blair conflict rumours. Then to the Lords for the big debate. Thirty-six speakers on the list – and 30 of them Tories. We had only two – very helpful was nice John Grantchester. Sadly this allowed the Tories to claim it proved Labour was not interested in the countryside.

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It was an excellent five-hour debate. Mark Marlesford was very kind to me while skilfully taking our BSE (‘mad cow disease’) policy apart. Joyce Anelay, the Tory front-bencher, was good and clear – and also revealed she had spent a lot of time when young ‘in the fields’. I said I grew up in the country but ‘could not claim to have flattened as many crops as the noble baroness’. She has a nice sense of humour. My speech was deliberately emollient since I was bound to lose any adversarial battle. I sat with almost no one behind me facing ranks of farming cannon opposite. Earl Ferrers closed by thanking me for being ‘so open’. I do enjoy parliamentary occasions. Afterwards, I staggered off to the British Museum for a reception given by chairman Graham Greene for all the Aga Khans. The Aga Khan (‘K’) was in great form, and Yazzy (descended from Rita Hayworth and Aly Khan) looked lovely. Would have preferred to go home early to bed with Sarah. But she enjoyed seeing all her old Khan friends.

Thursday 22 January 1998 Again in early for a meeting to discuss our new departmental name. We adjourned to Jack’s room where he revealed that he preferred the name Ministry of Food and Rural Affairs. But Jeff immediately raised that morning’s Mail front page, with the heading ‘Ministry of Foreign Affairs’, referring to Doug Henderson, who has joined his boss Robin Cook in taking his mistress abroad at public expense. Rural Affairs suddenly appeared vulnerable. So we moved towards my original preference of Food and Countryside. But Jack sensibly said if we don’t get support for our new rural orientation, then no point in changing the name. Quick lunch at Lords then front bench. Nothing happens there. Later met with officials on my debate on beef on the bone next week. Cleared a red box while waiting on a three-line whip for a vote, which as usual never came. Had drink with Tom Chandos, him slightly regretting not being a minister and hopes we sack the whole Arts Council bureaucracy (as Jack and I would have done if we were running that department). Tom said our Culture department is a disaster and the ministers not up to it. Then gossiped with Clive Hollick, who acknowledges that things are going wrong for Labour at the political centre. He also thinks the appointment of dire Kelvin MacKenzie as editor at the Mirror means that David Montgomery’s days there are numbered. Hope not. Finally left after 8.00 pm to the country. Watched the TV and some poor boxing.

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Friday 23 January 1998 Woke late on a raw cold day. Spend much of the time writing this. I always hope to be brief, but so much happens each week, so it ends up taking hours at the word processor.

Sunday 25 January 1998 Still raw. Mass given by substitute priest – 20 minutes longer than Father Flanagan – timed by all the regulars. Started the good Dalrymple travel book which Michael Bedford gave me.

Monday 26 January 1998 I wrote a memo to Alastair Campbell on strengthening No. 10 against attacks by fellow ministers (Brown). Don’t know if he will welcome it, though it includes strengthening him, along with the PM taking the chair for economic committees etc. Doubt Blair has the guts to do it, though previous prime ministers chaired it. Went up to the Lords for a three-line whip, though again no vote. The Tories are playing a sensible game of keeping us there to tire us out, but not voting us down so they don’t give ammunition for reform of the Lords. Blew up the officials because they hadn’t produced the promised reply to a letter from Lucas, former Tory minister. They have a totally cavalier approach to time, leaving replies to urgent letters for weeks – and replies to me for months. (On pesticides, now for over six months.) I told them to deliver the Lucas letter in two hours or I would summon and rocket the official. It was delivered on time – certainly done by my own office, since the relevant MAFF officials are unable to fart in less than three days, let alone draft a letter. In the evening a nice supper at La Campagnola with my long-lost sister Molly (she disappeared for 31 years and I have seen her only five times since 1962) and her lovely daughters Tania and Nadia. Interesting that none of them is against Clinton in his sex scandal and all think a politician’s private life is his own affair. Only the media think differently. Today the BBC had a programme that started by saying that Clinton ‘is clinging on by his fingertips because the whole of America is shocked by his sexual behaviour’. It then went on to interview eight people, all of whom supported him and said it was his own business. The BBC concluded by saying ‘Clinton hopes he will survive this terrible scandal, but it is not clear he will survive today.’ What they meant was that the BBC had sent 20 journalists to Washington at

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licence payers’ expense and now had to have him impeached to justify the expenditure.

Tuesday 27 January 1998 Woke tired and got in late for a meeting with Glenys Kinnock on West Indian bananas. She is very bright and I have always liked her. But used to be amused when she appeared on St David’s Day occasions as the Welsh First Lady. I remember the local news of her being born in my Northamptonshire village in the war, in the station cottages overshadowed by the sprawling motor factory. Then saw Jeff Rooker, bubbling about some paper which the officials were trying to bury and he is going to publish. Told me sad cancer news about his wife; they have always been so close. Lunch back at my former City workplace, Kleinworts, with Michael Bedford for the annual prize-giving on our market forecasts. I was fifth this time: did well on gilts, equity sector and interest rates, but destroyed by the worst forecast on the election result. No expertise there! Lots of the new German owners dourly in the lift, so felt no attachment to the place. Returned to the Lords for the great debate attacking us for the decision to have a ban on beef on the bone. I had persuaded Marcus Kimball to withdraw his amending prayer, which would have cancelled the regulations. So we debated David Willoughby’s motion. He spoke wittily and 26 Tories followed. I sat alone, with only two Labour supporting speeches. I was there for over three hours taking notes and tried to weave replies to everybody in my response, which I wrote myself on the bench, abandoning the department’s turgid brief. Decided we were going to lose anyway, so tried to have some fun and a few jokes. We were beaten by over a hundred. Actually I think our case is not so bad: on health grounds there is a risk, and, more important, had we not introduced the ban on beef on the bone, Brussels would have said all our British beef was unsafe and kept the export ban for ever.

Wednesday 28 January 1998 In early for the ministerial meeting. I reported on yesterday’s defeat. Jack grasped it would have been worse if Kimball’s prayer had got that majority and we would therefore have lost the beef-ban regulations. I said that most of Joyce Anelay’s measured attack on us was actually taken from MAFF’s own website, which refers to the beef policy as ‘extreme’. Jack was furious.

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Packer said this was just ‘quoting the minister’s statement’, but that was untrue. Later I found it on the department computer and it was from a text ministers have never been shown. I said I didn’t mind taking on 26 Tories, but taking on MAFF as well was a bit too much. ‘I believe in open government, but not in open opposition from within the ministry.’ Off to the diabetes clinic in Wimpole Street. Not good news. My diabetes blood sugar numbers have worsened. This is why I am feeling so exhausted. So will need more drugs etc. Irritating. I used to feel a tiger-like energy. Now like a dead cat. Must put it right. Obviously the pressure of the department has not helped. Nice lunch at the Savoy with Jim Callaghan. Real gossip. Jim said his daughter Margaret, a minister in the Department of Health, and I are both doing well. He hopes she will give up soon – ‘must make a success of her second marriage’. He wished he had been PM for the full term from 1974: ‘Never had time to shape the government with any vision.’ Though admitted he could not have had the radical vision of Blair: ‘The political climate was never ready for it.’ He admires Blair, but backs Brown in the long-run because ‘he has more stamina and substance’. And ‘a tougher character’. Thinks Blair ‘too uninterested in the party’. Our leader, Ivor Richard, doing quite well, style right for the Lords. And Jack doing well – though Jack once didn’t turn up to go to the West Indies with him because he ‘had a cold. You don’t have colds at the top’, he said. He was intrigued by Mandelson, whom he hadn’t met. Jim knew Peter’s great grandfather, Herbert Morrison, and didn’t trust him – ‘always intriguing’ – and he wondered if it was ‘in the blood’. He likes Mo Mowlam, but says ‘she has a hopeless task in an irrational situation. They will reach some agreement, but it won’t last, they will fall apart and start shooting one another.’ He was always pessimistic, probably over-pessimistic on Ireland. Thinks the media ‘are quite dreadful’, especially how they are behaving towards Clinton and Robin Cook. He loathes the press, though accepts them as part of Britain’s bad and unavoidable political reality. He was very concerned that I had expressed some criticisms of the present Blair regime. Said ministers mustn’t do that in public. Anyway, he thought, ‘they are doing damned well in my view; doesn’t mean they get everything right, but they are doing well.’ He was in terrific form, although he is very bent and arthritic now. Nicest thing he said to me was, ‘You always had good political judgement.’ That was something, given his usual low view of academics, even long-ex academics. Back for good meetings in Jack’s room. Beforehand, he instructed Packer that nothing should appear on the website without our clearance. No idea

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if that will be passed on. Normally, Packer just sits and chuckles when the department fouls up, as if it is nothing to do with him, and anything that bugs ministers is good fun. First meeting on organic farming. Jack pushed them much further and finally created a positive strategy that will give quite a big push to ­organics. But still only an extra million or so. Peanuts really. Afterwards, I gave a speech for some EU sugar conference. As a diabetic, I treat it as of very low importance. In Admiralty House, which is pretty. Spent most of my time looking at the naval pictures. We went to Patricia Rawling’s delightful late-night party in Eaton Square. Long chats with Anne Heseltine, who I always like (she said, ‘There are two Tory parties here and Patricia doesn’t seem to realise that they don’t talk to one another’). Michael Heseltine looked very fit. And Jacob Rothschild was in great form – he gave us our lovely ducks.

Thursday 29 January 1998 In early for briefing on today’s fish PQ. Useful, since I know little of fishing and feel uncomfortable with it. The front-bench meeting was a bit more meaty than usual, with good debate on our whipping policy of having three-liners three days a week, even though there is often no vote. Margaret Jay was very good and Denis Carter took the criticisms well. So tired I slept in the library after lunch and only just woke in time for my PQ. In fact it went very well, though fairly subdued. No jokes or rhetoric, just kept it close. Attended an appalling Cabinet committee in the Commons on the potential ‘Millennium Bug’, a computer meltdown, which I simply don’t believe in. Typical scare. Frank Field just chuckled wisely. I kept quiet until the end and then reported that MAFF was still at an early stage of its usual – e.g., BSE – cycle of starting with complacency and then, late on, collapsing into urgent panic. The main effect on us of any computer meltdown would be that farmers would not get their subsidies. A waste of time really, but I had to go since I ducked out of the last two. Back with Margaret Jay to call on chief whip Denis Carter and Ivor Richard about the whipping situation. Our troops are unhappy. I told them they should give up trying to win everything. I said we have a bad Lords hereditary system, where we cannot win. So don’t get too worried about losing a few, and get on with reforming the Lords.

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The whip was finally lifted at 9.00 pm, after I had a nice supper with Margaret Jay. I feel much closer to her and admire her greatly. Sensible values, like her mother, Audrey.

Saturday 31 January 1998 Great day. Drove with Jeremy Taylor to Cheltenham and found the racing syndicate. Our Guilder ran a wonderful last race. Won by a top Nicholson horse but Guilder stayed with him until the last hurdle and ran on well to be second. The excitement of seeing him flying over the hurdles and striding up the last furlong. Threw my fur hat – hope it is real fur to upset the zealots – high in the air. Having a horse running well at Cheltenham gives me more joy than anything in politics.

Sunday 1 February 1998 Deep frost and car all frozen up, so was late for mass. Sasha and her boyfriend here and Charles arrived for lunch; he and I had two good walks together. Newspapers all full of Robin Cook and his mistress, now a boring story. Blair is taking my old friend Helen Liddell with him to Washington; great for her and an indirect nudge at her boss Brown, who tries to cut her out.

Monday 2 February 1998 Had quiet morning at home clearing papers and early lunch before going up to a meeting with Jeff to discuss raw milk. I persuade Jeff not to issue an immediate ban, despite the reports of contamination. Cannot keep having bans on everything – personally I would ban bans. My main concern is to make sure that unpasteurised milk is not banned. Want to expand those tasty British cheeses. Jeff also tells me about his wife’s cancer and dire chemo treatment. So sad. I am very fond of him. ‘Sharp as a tin tack’, as Jack says.

Tuesday 3 February 1998 Meeting with MAFF procurement officials and gave them a rocket for the slow delivery of departmental furniture, telephones etc. My own room is hilariously half-furnished. Part of it was done by Sarah at John Lewis and all in place for months. The rest was ordered through the department – and NONE of it has yet arrived, five months later.

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Saw Ann Mallalieu in the Lords and discussed the coming country pro-hunting rally and the future of MAFF. She says if we get a rural role, I should be the minister of the countryside. She had been summoned to No. 10 to discuss it. I would like that. But in fact it would be better if Jeff had it (although he is a total Brummie) because he is minister of state and that would show we value the countryside. Jeff is a bit like Joe Haines – sharp, honest, tough and funny – and I enjoy working on issues with him. In the evening went to the big NFU annual dinner at the Hilton, about a thousand gathered in the grand ballroom. Went direct from the Lords three-liner, unshaven. A great occasion in its way: farmers from every region at their own tables. Reminded me of the mineworkers’ conference, and may have a similar bleak future. In his very funny speech, Gilbert Gray QC was briefly serious and warned the NFU president not to be like Scargill, starting with a small house and a big union and ending with a big house and a small union! Beforehand, their chief executive, a decent man named MacDonald, came up to me and formally apologised for the behaviour of the Devon NFU on my visit, saying it was ‘quite Out of Order’. Top table marched in to the usual clapping and I sat next to Ben Gill, the next president. Tall straight Yorkshireman and we got on well. I asked how he would handle a situation in which there will be no extra money for farmers. He looked stunned and said ‘there must be. These are very tough people, they will insist.’ I said we were quite tough and would not give way. He made it clear that ministers had always given way to farmers and it was inconceivable we wouldn’t. The farming culture still hasn’t adjusted to May 1st. He made it clear that he doesn’t think much of MAFF officials, including at the top. Gilbert Gray, self-described as a ‘knockabout Queens Counsel’, told several good jokes. I liked best the parrot one: about a man who collects parrots and goes to a parrot auction. After intensive bidding, he gets one, forced to pay over £1,000. Realising he doesn’t quite know what he has got, he asks the auctioneer, ‘Does it talk?’ ‘Talk?’, laughs the auctioneer. ‘Does it talk? It has been bidding against you for the last 20 minutes!’

Wednesday 4 February 1998 Bright and sharply sunny for a day to Kent. Walked through St James’s Park to Charing Cross, among the ducks and squirrels because I must get more exercise. Felt better for it. Took train to Paddock Wood and drove to Whitbread’s old hop farm, now a tourist feature. Lots of media and a huge crowd for my launch of Kentish Fare, promotion of Kentish

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speciality foods, many of which are really very good. Took several home, carefully paying for each. Only thing lacking was enough food for lunch, since they underestimated the huge crowd turning up for a free lunch. I had to resort to doing a second tour of all the food stands, trying the smoked fish and cheese and cake, etc., until I was nearly full. Nice positive people. No whinging. Just people making their own living without demanding billions from the taxpayer. Met impressive Archie Norman, the boss of Asda, who might be a future Tory leader; he says he does a lot of local sourcing. Returned to London feeling much better. Angus Ogilvy waiting there to discuss his good scheme to get 25,000 young unemployed off the register. Had long chat with Jack, who is in great form. Had addressed the NFU conference this morning and got a rough reception, which didn’t bother him. What did was David Naish, the president, who had made a formal pledge beforehand, when persuading Jack to attend, that he would not make a personal attack on Jack and the government. He completely broke it, seeking cheap cheers. Jack thinks I should go to the Countryside hunting rally. Home just in time to go out to dinner with the Carnarvons at the Italian restaurant in Lowndes Place. Henry is against me taking the BHB. Says it is a lousy job, a poisoned chalice.

Thursday 5 February 1998 Video briefing on next Monday’s PQ on the Beef Assurance Scheme – where the subsidy is presently running at £6,000 an animal! Followed by good meeting with John Spellar, defence minister, on trying to get our forces to eat British beef. John is amusing, straight-talking and completely Old Labour, and he stayed on after to discuss politics. He feels deeply that Old Labour is frozen out by the Blairites, and all our experience goes with it. Says key question is: Who do you contact at No. 10? No clear chainof-command structure there. Quite right. John Wakeham came up to me grinning with pleasure, saying that ‘Irvine is in trouble’. Derry had suggested in the New Statesman that we might have a privacy law that bites. No. 10 lost its nerve at the very thought of upsetting the newspapers and Peter Mandelson was phoning John before breakfast to tell him ‘I am in charge on this’, and assured him that he had talked to the PM in Washington and received his assurance that no privacy law would happen. Then No. 10 press officers started briefing the press that Derry had no political sense and had been put down by the PM.

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I went into the chamber and sat on the Woolsack next to Derry, conveying this bad news. He said ‘there are some dirty tricks going on today. Jack Straw is OK but the rest, including the PM, are waving the white flag to the media.’ Derry is not always very concerned with political operating, but he has an engaging honesty – and on this is on the right side. It will be a disgrace if we, alone of the EU, bring in a Convention of Human Rights without a privacy right. Just to placate and reward Murdoch for having destroyed most civilised values in this country. Had an interview with Anthony Seldon on the working of No. 10, then cleared my red box through a long series of divisions. In the last, Margaret Thatcher walked with me into the Labour lobby, peering forward like a short-sighted goose and surrounded by an attractive aroma of alcohol. Recognising me, she suddenly looked alarmed and asked loudly, ‘Are any more of my people voting here?’ Clearly took fright at voting with Labour. I explained it was a Lib Dem amendment and her few colleagues present were voting with us against it. So she steamed ahead, shouting, ‘It is always a pleasure to vote against the Lib Dems, the wishy-washies, the wishy-washies.’ Agree with that.

Saturday 7 February 1998 Lovely sunny day. Read papers: more crap attacking Derry Irvine over privacy. Afternoon watching England rugby comprehensively beaten by France in Paris – poor front row and poor half-backs. Evening, more cricket as Fraser took eight wickets and England moved ahead.

Sunday 8 February 1998 Another glorious winter morning. At mass, Father Flanagan again told us to concentrate on love for one another and not on sin and guilt or ­self-­chastisement in Lent. Even so, I have given up alcohol. Afterwards walked right around Wargrave village for an hour trying to get my weight down to control the dreadful diabetes. Afternoon, watched Arsenal beat Chelsea in a truly awful game, old-fashioned London Derby, studs up and no skill.

Monday 9 February 1998 In to see old friend David Bacon to discuss a terrific theatre company who support the disabled. It has been under attack from the ‘Politically Correct Claptrappers’ who object because it helps disabled kids to mix

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with the fit ones and learn to live in the ordinary world. The PCCs want the ­disabled to live in a ghetto acting as a permanent trade union. The London Arts Board has refused money to the company on Claptrap grounds – and also because prosperous people support it – the PCC envy comes into play there. Depressing. Walked across the park to the Lords, briskly, and arrived quite hot to answer my question on the Beef Assurance Scheme. Went easily. Sorry they didn’t ask me the cost – so far a subsidy of £6,000 per animal. Such is the extravagant nonsense of our agricultural support system. Poor Patricia Hollis left early to go to her dying husband in Norwich. Wrote to her in support. Attended annual Labour peers party on the terrace. Blair made a funny speech. Margaret Jay and I lobbied chief whip Nick Brown in favour of Derry Irvine and privacy – Helena Kennedy told me he is pretty shattered by the vitriolic press campaign and the No. 10 briefing against him. Crazy to undermine able Cabinet colleagues when we want them to be respected so the government is stronger. There are enough enemies in the press and Tory opposition, without waging civil war ourselves. After our peers had cheered Tony, they went off to vote against our government and in favour of Tom Macnally’s amendment aimed against Murdoch’s predatory pricing policies. I was sympathetic with that. We all got pleasure from our bad government bill being defeated on this. But the fact that our bill seeks to protect Murdoch, together with rumours of Blair wanting to amend the human rights bill to allow the press endless scope to breach privacy, reflects the sad extent to which Blair is in Murdoch’s pocket. No doubt thinking he will reward us by swinging his papers behind us at the next election. In fact, Murdoch is a snake with no gratitude and will bite whoever suits him at the time.

Tuesday 10 February 1998 Walked across the park to a fascinating Cabinet committee on integrated transport policy in Cabinet Office room A, the familiar and stately Old Treasury Board Room, with domed white and gilt ceiling, olive-green wall coverings, George III’s throne and a nice view over No. 10’s garden. Gordon Brown firmly in the chair and John Prescott leading from his policy paper. Heavyweight presence, with Donald Dewar, Frank Field and Peter Mandelson either side of me. Speedy discussion. Prescott spiels on as if suffering from verbal brake failure. But he

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is powerful, underestimated by the outside world as he drives his policies through and overpowers most opposition – though Brown told me after that he switches off while Prescott spiels on and then sums up as he intended from the beginning. I noted again that Mandelson says nothing on these committees. He sits drafting memos, this one to the PM, though I couldn’t decipher what it was about. I spoke on rural transport problems and was supported by Alf Dubs for Ulster. The transport policy begins to take shape and will be an improvement on the Tory chaos, especially on buses. Walked back down Whitehall with Gordon Brown, who is increasingly friendly. Discussed gambling, where he said officials didn’t think there was much tax in it. I disagreed and advised him to set up an inquiry into gambling and suss out the facts of a £40-billion industry. He was positive and said he might do it in the budget. Also discussed ISAs, where the basic problem is that the Treasury have no faith in National Savings to market anything. But later Andrew MacIntosh told me they are making major changes, mostly along the lines I want. Back for lunch with the PM’s PPS (parliamentary private secretary), Bruce Grocott, in the Commons. Had terrific political gossip. He is such a nice man, and much more perceptive than many think. Helped by the fact he is 12 years older than the PM and so feels no deference. He said Blair is really brilliant in many ways, especially mastering a subject quickly, moving from one subject agilely to another, and in seeing the big picture – mainly the barrister skills. Also very open and easy to argue with. Downside is he is not very political or experienced in handling the Labour Party. Partly because he never stayed late drinking at the Commons with party colleagues, getting to know them, but always went home to the family in Islington. Never built up personal relations with lots of fellow backbenchers. Doesn’t really like old-style parliamentary life and doesn’t have much feel for it. I told him about our problems in MAFF and need for a rural dimension. He liked my view of Labour supporting the New Countryside, the Tories being attached to the old countryside. He said Tony always referred to Jack as ‘a big hitter’. He said Prescott is ‘indispensable’ in the government and the only minister who Tony cannot sack. Cook is not indispensable, ‘always a loner’. Thinks, as the incumbent, Tony is there as long as he wants to be. In No. 10 he says they all have good relations with the civil servants, especially since many are recent and out to prove loyalty to this administration. But finds it ‘unstructured’ – as I have noticed – so it is difficult for him or

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others to find the right way in or around it. Says there is surprisingly little tension between chief of staff Jonathan Powell and the principal private secretary. Bruce is a very nice and shrewd man and I enjoyed the chat enormously. He did say, in all modesty, that nobody else in No. 10 has any political experience apart from himself, and this often shows. I said the PM should go round the tea room with him at least once a fortnight nurturing our lads. He agreed totally and said he had tried, but it was difficult. Both because Blair travelled so much and mainly because he wasn’t too interested in doing it. In the afternoon I had a briefing to defend our oxtail ban from John Peyton’s looming attack – and learned that we have, foolishly but predictably, banned oxtail but not oxtail soup! I more and more find that our policies have an internal logic that totally impresses the scientists and officials, but to a normal member of the human race, when spoken in public, they sound barmy. David Montgomery came in for a drink. Obviously problems at the Mirror. Also discuss Ireland, where the talks seem to be falling apart as each side murders the other in tit-for-tats. He is going to see Ahern soon, and Blair.

Wednesday 11 February 1998 Early ministerial meeting. We discussed the countryside rally and decided I would attend. Peyton PQ was funny but the questions hostile. I didn’t have the House with me on beef on the bone, so I was as gentle and non-adversarial as possible. Max Beloff thanked me for my courtesy and Peyton for ‘so politely answering questions to which you did not have the answer’. Not far off. I said ‘I have long experience of doing that.’

Thursday 12 February 1998 Glorious sunny day, like Switzerland. No breakfast because to Wimpole Street for two hours of diabetic tests. Doctor concluded I have been eating too much fruit – because other doctors say we must eat more of it – and this has raised my sugar level. Also need more exercise, so Maggie dropped me off at Hyde Park Corner and I walked through the three parks – Hyde, Green and St James’s – to the office. Had a Brussels briefing meeting with Jack. Back to the Lords for a vote and then home to the country. Take first blood sugar test at night and still too high. Eat no more fruit.

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Friday 13 February 1998 Ominous date but what a glorious day. Brilliant February sunshine, birds singing, ducks quacking, crocuses pushing and bright blue sky. Collected early by Maggie and went off to visit a dairy farm near Abingdon. But first along the M40 to our trainer Paul Webber at Banbury to see our great jumper Guilder. Looked magnificent, over 16 hands at four, and nice disposition. Then off to the attractive dairy farm. Two very intelligent brothers who never whinged once and put some good ideas. Also provided a nice unexpected lunch. Next, to Rose Baring in Addington to see dear old Peers Folly, from our earlier days in racing (though him usually not actually racing). He clearly remembered me and certainly appreciated the sugar lumps (banned for me). Beautiful with the fine white blaze. Made me sad I had to get rid of him. Home in the afternoon sunshine through Goring, Sonning and across the pretty Thames. Honey was madly excited when we arrived and ran around in circles.

Saturday 14 February 1998 Another astonishing day, brilliant sunshine, very warm, the birds going spring frantic, the ducks and moorhens all beginning to screw one another. Valentine’s Day and won some brownie points with Sarah for remembering it with a kiss and a loving letter, but not ten out of ten since I had forgotten to get a card in advance – desperate last-minute substitute letter-writing last night.

Sunday 15 February 1998 Took a two-mile walk then a lovely lunch outside: beef off the bone – tastes just as good as on. Blood test good and feel much better than for a long time. The diet and drugs seem to be working. Honey is still a delight in our life, so pretty, funny and alert. Nice to have one’s first dog at 63. I wonder if I will live to see her out. Pack for tomorrow’s Brussels visit.

Monday 16 February 1998 Maggie arrived with Spottie Hailsham, the former Lord Chancellor’s notoriously aggressive Jack Russell. Took a Virgin flight to Brussels and it was appalling. Had to eat a snack at the airport to make up for no edible lunch on the plane.

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Jack was already being briefed and in good form when I arrived. He had a bad time at the TV studios yesterday when a mob of farmers attacked his car and injured four policemen, one going to hospital. If these thugs were at a football game they would end up in jail. Rural hooligans. Saw Irish minister, Joe Walsh, on the way in and we discussed his invite to me to open the new stand at Listowel races. Wonderful. He has watched Guilder on TV at Cheltenham and thought him very promising. Racing bridges the political and social gaps faster than anything. Jack is a very efficient Agriculture Council chairman and moved us along quickly. His civil servants kept a score of the length of interventions: the Italians, Spaniards, Greeks and Portuguese were worst – Mediterranean garrulity. I was best, averaging two minutes. Main item was next year’s price arrangements, where Italy, Portugal (for hours) and Luxembourg rabbited on, and nearly everyone used it as an opportunity to give a big speech on the whole of agriculture. It is difficult to be pro-EU sitting in the Council. Fifteen senior Cabinet ministers droning on for hours discussing whether to subsidise hemp or flax, or what temperature to impose inside a cattle truck, when all the hot countries will ignore or fraud it anyway. But my civil servant pointed out that the Agriculture Council is the worst and Ecofin is much better – sometimes starts after us and finishes before. There is officially ‘no smoking’ in the chamber but I like the way the usually environmentally sensitive Danes sit smoking pipes throughout. Especially since on our agenda was to give nearly a billion pounds to the filthy EU tobacco regime – so awful that no Europeans will smoke it. I denounced it but then went and assured the Greeks we wouldn’t vote against because they need it for rural jobs and we need their reciprocal vote on lifting the beef export ban (now ever-further away as the Germans use their people on the vets committee to block it). Jack took us for dinner to a very smart restaurant on the ground floor of a classic Brussels fine house. I broke my fast and had one glass of classy wine. Afterwards, Jack, our MAFF official Andy and I went back to the hotel bar for the ritual single malt and fine cigar. Jack loves these times to relax and talk politics. He spoke passionately against the 1980s Social Democratic Party, saying they were traitors he hated more than any Tories. Betrayed Labour. Said Roy Jenkins had misled many naive young Labour MPs, leading them to oblivion. Remembered meeting Roy at a railway station with his son, who addressed his father as ‘sir’. Playing the old establishment games. In the 1976 leadership election, which Jack organised for Jim, Roy’s

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boys came to Jack after the first round and said Roy would drop out and support Jim, providing Roy was made foreign secretary. Jack said ‘no deals’. Roy withdrew anyway and got nothing. We talked of the weakness and corruption of the trade union leadership in the late 1970s. They all deserved their fate under Thatcher. How awful the party national executive committee was in those days: giving power to appalling people like ‘Stalin’s grannies’ – Maynard, Short and Wise – just commie fellow travellers. Harold and Jim had to kowtow to them; Kinnock and Smith worked to neuter them; and Blair could now ignore them. One-man-one-vote has killed them – as I forecast in my Times leader in 1982. We finished drinks at a quarter to one. Jack has been up before six most mornings in the past week. He will live long, like his dad and mum (both still alive and active in their late eighties).

Tuesday 17 February 1998 Woke bleary. In Council read out my brief on quality beef. Cannot tell if anyone listens. Read in Times the appalling news that Blair has capitulated on privacy amendments to the Convention on Human Rights in the Commons, cutting ground from beneath Irvine’s feet. Also undermining my support for New Labour if its main principle is to appease the media. Somebody told me they sat next to Blair on a plane and all he talked of was how to win over the Mail proprietor, Rothermere. Media, not ministers, run the show. The Council went agreeably and did not provoke the usual anti-EU feelings in me. Austrian Franz Fischler was particularly impressive. We finished at noon, much earlier than expected, because of Jack’s speedy chairmanship. On the plane, I read the newspapers and then home for the evening with a red box.

Wednesday 18 February 1998 Morning ministerial. Discuss badgers, which are threatening a tuberculosis (TB) epidemic and Jeff wants action; he is like a busy Jack Russell and I suggest sending him down the badger sets. Morley takes an ideological pro-animal line and is reluctant to take action. Home for a quiet supper with Sarah at La Campagnola, lovely stuffed mushrooms and grilled herrings. Still taking my blood tests, finger tips now sore and holed like colanders.

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Thursday 19 February 1998 In for a good meeting with some farm managers about exporting our agricultural expertise, for example to central Europe, where they need advice on modern farming. Asked them to brief me on what we can do in the ministry to help our agricultural people – farmers, managers, consultants, colleges – to export their experience and expertise and get a return for it, to compensate for the shrinking domestic production returns. Afterwards, I heard my officials talking disapprovingly of my approach and saying, ‘it is not the Ministry’s role’ to get involved in these commercial activities. I asked them who they think paid their salaries and pensions if it wasn’t commercial people making profits and paying taxes. They like to remain monastically clean and let everyone else pay the price. At our front bench, Derry Irvine was clearly very depressed. Said his family devastated by the daily media campaign of denigration against him. The stories about his furniture spending are complete lies. Margaret, Tessa and I gave him support. Afterwards, had discussion of my Monday speech on the European Monetary Union, with a very good draft from MAFF official Katrina – the best draft I have had. Naturally the press department had not intended to issue a press release, even though this is the most important speech I have given – or perhaps because it is important.

Sunday 22 February 1998 Afternoon walk with Honey and Sarah – makes four miles today – then watched Newcastle draw with Leeds in exciting game. Evening up to London to be ready for my speech on monetary union tomorrow. Phoned by vet friend Andrew Higgins, who reports on the dog quarantine committee. Looks like we may have a good report by the summer. Hope I can take Honey to France next year.

Monday 23 February 1998 Walked to the QE II Conference Hall and gave my best speech so far on the implications of monetary union for agricultural policy. Basically too early to predict, but nothing will be the same. Large audience listened attentively. Beforehand, James Naughtie in the chair took a poll of farmers and found them 3:1 in favour of going into the single currency.

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Tuesday 24 February 1998 Walked in for a huge meeting on the MAFF budget for next year. A million papers, but Jack stayed well on top of the agenda. Started at 10.00 am and went through lunch until after 4.00 pm. The officials had, surprise, surprise, decided there was no scope for any efficiency savings from them since the department is totally efficient. There were the usual list of proposals for small savings with big political backlash, designed to make ministers reject them or accept the blame for the cuts. The whole exercise is designed by officials to produce no changes in their status quo. The biggest item is MAFF’s huge research and development bill – 15 per cent of all its expenditure. This is in fact a lovely patronage pool for the department. There were several pages of defensive arguments for no cuts here. I attacked it and Jack said we would come back to it, but we won’t. Once that single item is protected, there is no scope for cuts – so no scope for spending more elsewhere. At the end we were exhausted and still £100 million short of providing for next year’s commitments.

Wednesday 25 February 1998 In for a good meeting on Northern Ireland politics with James Molyneux and Lord Cook. Grimley was desperate to know what it was about and bustled in with his notebook to take minutes, but I sent him out. In fact they wanted to explain to me how in the North there would never be a solution top-down – with party leaders who hate one another being pressed to shake hands and love one another henceforth, as Mo is now doing. Their experience was that it had to be done bottom-up. Starting with cross-border cooperation on everyday things like animal welfare, ambulances, public transport, tourism and water. They had experience of this being done successfully 30 years ago. So need to do it again that way now. I was very interested, especially since it coincided with what my old friend Professor Mitrany used to preach to me over 30 years ago in relation to the Arab– Israeli dispute. Good meeting with wise men and I decided to talk to David Montgomery and prepare a memo for No. 10. Walked over to the Foreign Office Map Room for another EU presidential task force meeting. A fairly vague agenda and Robin Cook not very focused. Jack went to No. 10 yesterday for the PM’s meeting with the NFU etc. Blair told them he would help them, withdraw the new financial charges etc. So he gets the credit as good guy, overruling ministers who had taken a tough line.

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This is the recurring pattern of presidential rule from No. 10. Ministers reach decisions, in line with party policy, then the rich vested interests complain to Blair, then he overrules ministers to please them. So he gets the credit. It has happened on university fees to appease Oxbridge, on vetoing the right to roam with Michael Meacher, on stopping the ban on tobacco advertising with Tessa Jowell and on building homes in the green belt. It nearly happened to us with the food industry trying to stop the independent Food Standards Agency getting supervision of nutrition. This time it is slightly different, because Jack asked for these concessions to farmers – they are getting another £70 million on top of the £85 million at Xmas. This time Jack needed the PM to order the Treasury to pay the money, which at first they refused to do. He is clearly reluctant to overrule Brown, but finally did. What worries me are two things. First, this is a bad way to run a government. In the short-term it is nice for the PM, who pleases all these interests and gets presidentially popular, but in the long-term it is bad for the government since it undermines the authority of ministers and means all interests know they need not take no from the minister and just have to appeal over his head to No. 10. Second, it is bad because it always means giving way to the powerful with access to No. 10 – the landowners on right to roam, the farmers on subsidies, the tobacco and motor racing barons on tobacco, and the privileged on the green belt. The PM is acting to make sure that Labour policy and redistribution does not take place.

Thursday 26 February 1998 Newspapers full of next Sunday’s country protest rally. Will be huge. Real problem is they will not be able to park their Jaguars and Land Rovers in central London. Blair has decided I will attend the rally, as the acceptable face of our country ministers, being supportive of hunting. Got away earlier than expected with early lifting of whip. In time to see the Evening Standard, which had a nasty small piece about me. Basically saying I am attending the countryside rally only because I am a passionate supporter of the ban on beef on the bone – and states that I support that ban because I am a ‘zealot vegetarian’. That will puzzle the racecourse men who often see me enjoy my lunch steaks. Finally it spelt my name wrongly. Not bad for fifty words. Would not mind if at least it was funny. Home in time for nice vegetable supper with Sarah. Then early to bed to finish Wind in the Willows. What a wonderful book. Always makes me

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feel good. Next is Alice in Wonderland – my preparation for CAP reform. Grimley gave me some figures that show there are now 131 officials in MAFF earning more than me. Only the doorman and tea lady are not, I suspect. Those two certainly earn their pay more than many.

Friday 27 February 1998 Nice relaxed day, though much colder – windy and snow in the North. Long talk with David Montgomery about Ireland and about newspapers. His racing papers have just lost a spicy libel case, which cost them £750,000. Office in panic because arrangements for the Sunday countryside rally keep changing, with various ministers marching then not marching. Could go wrong. Danger that it is not now a simple demonstration for country values. Now hijacked by Tories and farmers to become an anti-government rally.

Saturday 28 February 1998 Cold windy day. Took it quietly. Finished a red box in the morning and then after lunch with George watched my old team Northampton in great rugby win over unbeaten Newcastle. Took me back to postwar watching the Saints in great battles against Cardiff and Coventry. And playing there for their second fifteen Wanderers against Stroud. Long ago.

Sunday 1 March 1998 A freezing grey day. So up to town early to join the breakfast of the great countryside protest march. Little traffic, so get to Piccadilly early and I walked across Green Park, covered in early daffodils, and along the Mall route, already closed to cars. It was symptomatic that these protesters from the shires chose the Savoy for their breakfast headquarters. Nothing is too good for the rural deprived. I had breakfast with Anne and Michael Heseltine and their two lovely daughters. Journalists pestered me the whole time. The Telegraph man protested to my press officer that I had declined to give him an immediate interview, saying ‘Doesn’t he know who I am?’ (The answer is, ‘only too well’.) I did go outside and give a live interview to sensible Trevor Phillips on Sky and to ITV. But their real prize was batty Michael Meacher. I like Michael and would enjoy his company as an old friend. But politically he is off the wall. He once, in the 1970s, explained to me why Tony Benn had all

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the economic answers to the society of the future and it was important for him to become PM immediately. He asked me to inform James Callaghan and to advise him to resign immediately. Benn then supported total nationalisation, shop stewards control and CND. Perhaps we should give Michael the farmers. I chatted with a lot of friends, Ann Mallalieu, the Mortimers, Kate Hoey etc. The march was hugely impressive, a quarter-of-a-million people taking five hours from the Savoy to Hyde Park. Most of them were decent people. We should look to meet the genuine requests of the ‘rural life’ people, ­especially for more buses and schools, and should help the poor, ­hard-working hill, beef and lowland dairy farmers. But difficult to do so under CAP. Evening watching TV news, with my occasional appearances. Not a ­satisfactory day.

Tuesday 3 March 1998 Drag out early in the rain to a Leicester Square inn where, as minister of food, I launched some innkeepers’ operation. Worthy. To the office for a telephone interview with the Grocer magazine on British cheese, which I always seek to promote. To Wimpole Street for ultrasound sonar testing of my arteries, fearing furring from the diabetes. Actually the specialist said my arteries are ‘first class’ and ‘worthy of a young man’. All the 40 years of playing football have paid off, despite the arthritic toe. Terrific dinner at Mimmo d’Ischia with Sarah’s brother-in-law Colin Ingleby-Mackenzie and sister Susan, just back from cricket in the Caribbean. Had a good chat about the cricket (Colin thinks Atherton must go as captain and Stewart become chairman) and racing (where he thinks I should not go to the BHB though I would be ‘the best man’). We plan for me to resign from MAFF in the autumn and go with him and the Getty crowd to watch the MCC cricket tour in Australia.

Wednesday 4 March 1998 Up early to take train to Swindon for a good cheese conference. Inevitably late and the train before mine has still not arrived. Privatisation has been a farce on the railways, just making millions for a few director friends of the Tories. The trains to Swindon are now timetabled to take longer than under British Rail 20 years ago. But Wiltshire looked lovely as the rain cleared and I could see the Downs in the distance. Could live there.

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Speech good, and over 70 per cent of the cheese industry there. Am trying to push them into exporting more. The trade deficit in cheese is halfa-billion pounds a year! Yet our cheese is superb.

Thursday 5 March 1998 Walked in, dropping in at the Catholic Westminster Cathedral. Like a big barn, people buzzing around like in a market. Think of my brother Clem, who is always still with me really. In for a cheerful meeting with a Chilean minister. I gave him a bottle of Lords whisky since the Chileans are planning to stop imports of it. Long chat with Tessa Blackstone on being in government. She likes office more than I do, but admits is less happy privately. We both defend Derry Irvine, still under attack from the press, which cannot stand his support for privacy. She said she might be fed up with government in two years; I said my term might be shorter. Went to the Cabinet sub-committee on the ludicrous Millennium computer date problem. Boring. Government spend wasted on this mad scare now forecast at £400 million. I sat next to Angela Eagle, who is bright and funny. To a very lively meeting with the NFU and the Transport and General Workers’ Union (TGWU) on the evil gangmasters who exploit casual labour in our horticulture and fruit fields. I have been pressing for action on this and my official, Alison Maitland, has done a good report bringing together eight enforcement agencies. The NFU has produced a voluntary code of practice and we hope to get the retailers to enforce it with sanctions. Stayed for the votes and dined in the Barry Room with Clive and Sue Hollick. Agreed Blair’s main weaknesses are being afraid to offend anybody and also not building his own party political constituency. I like his wife Sue, who is just realising that the present media is not the same ­principled place it was when she worked for Granada long ago. Home quite late.

Friday 6 March 1998 Very full day. Two hours in the morning at the dentist having massive reconstruction on a lost tooth, with 12 pins knocked into my artificial base and root filling. Frozen both sides and quite draining having one’s small mouth yanked open for so long. Then off in the rain to Newbury to watch Guilder again. Listened to Alan Bennett’s diaries on my tape machine and enjoyed his great superiority to me as a diarist. Whereas I narrate each day

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and pause too little on the significant events, he ignores routine diary life for days, and then expands on really interesting events and people. With gentle perceptions which get to the root of it. I always liked him at Oxford and in Camden Town. Never forgotten when he sent me tickets for his spy play, saying I had spawned it in some gossip with him. Must contact him again. Guilder looked lovely and ran bravely, but staggered and lost momentum at the last fence and came second. He blew a lot after, but the gang gave him lots of pats so he knew he was loved. Drove from the course to Oxford and changed in Nuffield from my racing rags to dinner jacket. Linked up with Nelson Polsby, my great Berkeley friend and brilliant political scientist host, and his other guest, Peter Riddell from The Times, a serious old-fashioned journalist with a strong concern for ideas, accuracy and fairness. We had a terrific evening. It was the Founders Feast. Great food (too good for my diabetes), lovely wine (ditto), and a fascinating hall full of guests. Among the distinguished gallery were Roy Jenkins, Graham Mather, Matthew Oakeshott, lively leftie David Aaronovitch, Will Hutton, David Hendry, Steve Nicholl (both old LSE friends), John Vickers from the Bank of England and two chief police constables. Nuffield is now the last dining club for the liberal power establishment. I chatted with old friend David Butler, who is as enthusiastic about elections as ever, touchingly boyish about the excitements of his recent coverage of the chaotic Indian elections. In the pseudo-baronial dining hall I realised it is 40 years since I first ate there with my dear political scientist friend Phillip Williams, and nearly that since I was elected a research student there. Sat for the first half of the superb meal in a perfect placement: at top table between David Miliband, who runs the Number Ten Policy Unit, and Richard Wilson, the new Cabinet Secretary. David was as bright, modest and charming as always. We discussed how to avoid the midterm blight that always hits governments. On MAFF, he felt we would eventually get rural affairs. I said, if not, then wrap it up. I told him the PM must be tough with somebody soon and not be seen as the soft touch overruling his ministers. He was aware of the shambles in Environment and that Chris Smith needs strengthening at junior minister level. Showed interest that I am a Catholic, no doubt reflecting the press interest this week in Blair’s private visits to the Catholic cathedral. I presume that Tony will convert in the end, but not presumably while PM – might upset somebody. Very good talk with Richard Wilson, who is the first Cabinet Secretary I have not known since Helsby long ago. He was very open on MAFF – told

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me he knew the permanent secretary Packer was wrong (though clearly knew little about him, and I pointed out that Packer is in fact very able, but just bad for MAFF). Said he is looking to move him but couldn’t find a slot, which was also Robin Butler’s dilemma. I suggested Culture, but he said the PM was out to please the luvvies and that wouldn’t – which is precisely why I suggested it. He suggested with Clare Short at International Development and I thought that was a good idea, since expenditure on the limitless good intentions of overseas aid needs much tighter control, which Packer would do well. I said keep him at MAFF until July, after the Presidency where his deep knowledge of Brussels is useful. Then July change. I told him some of my MAFF horror stories, which genuinely shocked him. But said I was very happy now with my private secretaries, Peter and Simon, and that I thought the Brussels team, especially Kate Timms and Andy Lebrecht, are very good. I hinted that I was not minister for the long-term, but he pressed me to ‘hang on in there’. They all seem to think I am younger and more ambitious than I am. David Miliband discussed our Lords ministers and was assuming a reshuffle soon and said that they knew who the failures were. He said the media is ‘awful’, but doesn’t seem to take it seriously. I pointed out to David that I was the media’s ‘vegetarian zealot’ here eating meat tonight, but he made it clear he doesn’t read or remember ‘the rubbish in the press’. A wise approach. Will try to learn. For me, this was really fascinating networking, and I was so pleased I went. Wilson asked me to fix a lunch for him with Jack, which I will do next week. Second half of the meal I sat next to the revered sociologist Chelly Halsey, antique ex-working-class Labour like me. Nice chat then drove home in the rain after midnight.

Saturday 7 March 1998 Breezy bright day. Chat with Kate, who is selling her flat, buying a house for children, and off to Devon for the week. She is typical of what my true life is about, with Rachel and Sarah and Honey and the boys. In the evening started my new Folio book on our Civil War. Then a lovely old Fawlty Towers, which reminds me of MAFF. The department is a mix of Yes Minister and Fawlty Towers, but not quite as funny as either.

Sunday 8 March 1998 Day began rainy and grey, but soon cleared to bright sunshine with more showers. Lovely mass. Nice hymns including ‘Amazing Grace’.

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Monday 9 March 1998 Sarah’s birthday: she liked my gold chain and bracelet, bought in Dubai a year ago and secreted away since in my gun cabinet. Papers full of pop music stars denouncing Blair for not having delivered all they felt was promised at their cocktail parties at No. 10. This is promising. I was very worried, at first, when the New Labour government was being praised by the press, lauded by the luvvies and courted by the pop celebrities. Now the situation is much improved. The press is viciously attacking it, the luvvies claim they are betrayed and the pop hooligans are denouncing it. That is a good basis on which henceforward to build a sound and sensible Labour government. At Lords for divisions and then took Sarah’s family to Mijanou for nice birthday dinner. Finished at midnight.

Tuesday 10 March 1998 Lunch with Mark Fisher and enjoyed enormously catching up on the Arts gossip – much better than Agriculture and am still a bit envious of his job. Mark is always interesting, but has the classic Labour trait of too often running down others. Claims he and Chris Smith do all the departmental work (he does the Spending Review himself) and Tony Banks and Tom Clarke never get involved. They are looking for a new permanent secretary now that their old Whitehall pro, Hayden Phillips, has gone to the Lord Chancellor’s office. Thought of bringing Tim Lancaster back from the private sector, which would have been terrific, but found outsiders ‘take too long to clear’, a classic Whitehall device to keep outsiders out! At the Arts Council, he says Gerry Robinson is shaking the tree and has the right idea about cutting the jungle of bureaucracy. But Mark thinks he shoots too much from the hip and doesn’t know enough about the Arts details (may be a good thing). I pressed him to make a speech as minister of Arts on my theme of the need to conserve the public, and especially the Whitehall, built heritage. An important speech in defence of cultural values. He clearly took it on board but looked nervous. Then a meeting with Andrew Higgins, who reported on the dog quarantine inquiry. Progress towards a May report suggesting phased reform. He was worried it meant heavy charges to owners and ministers might not like that. I said we would be happy. Owners want the change and must pay the price of reform. Later met James Selkirk, son of the Duke of Hamilton. Discussed when Rudolf Hess flew to see his father in 1941. He said Hess ‘was not a nice man’.

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James is charming and able, and has written some good books about the war. Nice dinner at the Lords with Sarah and Graham Greene, just back from big China visit.

Wednesday 11 March 1998 Quiet day, quite wet. Walked in via the park to a media meeting planning to give our British bacon the same boost we gave our cheese last week. Lunch at common table with Patricia Hollis, who has deservedly won a literary prize for her book on great Labour Arts minister Jennie Lee. Excellent briefing meeting with Kate Timms and Andy Lebrecht on next week’s Agriculture Council, where we will have real problems over imposing ­controls on specified risk materials (SRM) in meat. Our European partners were passionate to impose them on us, but now won’t accept them for themselves. Labour MP, Graham Allen, came in for a drink with Alison and their daughter Grace. Happy memories of our marvellous South Africa cricket tour. He is disappointed to be just a whip – deserves to be a proper minister. In Opposition he was excellent and always does his homework. But politics isn’t fair.

Thursday 12 March 1998 Walk in to meeting with Jack, planning the coming Agriculture Council. Jack said I should do the press conference if we succeed in getting the beef ban lifted. Also told him about the progress on quarantine, that Richard  Wilson wanted lunch with him – already fixed – and got permission to visit Cheltenham races next week. He was in splendid form, just back from Spain wooing the fighting nun, where we can find nothing we agree with Spain on, and off to Brussels to see Fischler to try to fix the meat problems. I prepared for my BSE PQ, which went very well, and I was able to see off the Tories by pointing out that without the ban on beef on the bone we would not have got the export ban lifted for Northern Ireland. I really enjoyed having a light go at the Evening Standard for calling me a ‘zealot vegetarian’. Said, ‘At least they didn’t suggest I was a transvestite or a supporter of the Arsenal, so I suppose we should be grateful for small mercies.’ The House laughed supportively. Politicians should never mind being made fun of – it is part of our role to be in the stocks. But the press is so often not funny, just nasty.

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Had a nice tea with Ann Mallalieu and Kate Hoey, plotting the defeat of Foster’s silly anti-hunting bill in the Lords tomorrow. I like Kate. Really, she should have been Sports minister and me Arts minister and we would have had a great time working together. The whip was lifted early and I went home early to Shurlock Row. Watched cricket from the West Indies where Ramprakash and Thorpe led a fine recovery after another disastrous start with four wickets down before lunch for 50. Atherton failed again, averaging nine, and should give up the captaincy.

Friday 13 March 1998 Another Friday 13th, so get up slowly and warily. Wrote this. Thinking of Kate, in Devon, and her birthday tomorrow. Phoned Jacob Rothschild about our South-West river clean-up plan, finally moving after months of my pressure on MAFF. Jacob wants it as a final achievement at his National Lottery Fund. Also phoned Eric Anderson at Lincoln College, who is taking over from Jacob next month and is also keen. Lovely if we could achieve just one thing of public benefit.

Saturday 14 March 1998 Quiet day. Cleared huge red box including briefing for Brussels. Mild and early spring, with daffodils everywhere.

Sunday 15 March 1998 To mass. Father Flanagan told us that in New Orleans, where he went for Mardi Gras and learned to love jazz, there was a saying: ‘Your parents brought you to mass when you were christened and baptised; your partner brought you to be married; your family will bring you to be buried. Why not come on your own some time?’ He is going to Cheltenham on Tuesday and Wednesday and so there is no point in Sarah and me getting married or dying on those days. Finished Waugh’s Work Suspended – nearly the last of his books I hadn’t read. Good bits but not quite good enough. On the cusp between the early social novels of fun and glitter and the postwar serious stuff.

Monday 16 March 1998 Off to Brussels for the Agriculture Council. Took my own beef sandwiches this time to avoid disgusting Virgin food.

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In the Council chamber met Joe Walsh and discussed Cheltenham. I had my Timeform black book with me to fill tedious hours. He is not staying tomorrow but is off to Cheltenham tonight. When I suggested that ministers sadly had to be here at the Council, he looked puzzled and mentioned ‘priorities’. Chatted to beautiful Loyola, the Spanish ‘fuerte’. She smiled and said she was ‘initiating the Spanish U-turn’ on the beef ban. Encouraging. She is clearly in love with Jack after his visit to Spain. Am slightly envious. Have never been close to a nun. Rambled on for two hours about a veterinary agreement with the USA. Then our Big Issue: getting the beef ban lifted in Northern Ireland. The Germans and Belgians as usual spoke strongly against, and their Luxembourg cronies followed in line. But Loyola was nice and clearly indicated a switch from their previous anti to abstain. The engaging Frenchman, Le Poncet, who is a Breton and looks more like a West of Ireland farmer, raised some minor points, which we happily conceded, and then voted for us – so we had the qualified majority of 65 votes. We were delighted, and Alf Dubs and I dashed off to a drab press conference, which I chaired. It was our first serious victory in MAFF for years and a triumph for Jack, who has done the work moving the French and Spaniards to switch. We went to a grand restaurant and had delicious food to celebrate. I had a lovely turbot. Even a small glass of the wine, again breaching the Lenten fast.

Tuesday 17 March 1998 Watched BBC TV, beef victory low down on the agenda because of today’s budget and Jonathan Aitken and his daughter arrested for perjury in the Guardian libel case. Council rumbled on for two hours. Loyola came to chat and said Spain would support lifting the rest of our beef ban – but at a price. We would have to support them on olive oil reform. Told Jack, who said it wasn’t on. We will see. Will need her. Home by Eurostar after lunch at the station. Evening with David Montgomery and George Robertson at a St Patrick’s night celebration at Coutts. Rather sombre for St Patrick’s, with a quartet playing Schubert’s Death and the Maiden. But good chat with the Irish Ambassador. Told me they had trawled Dublin for ideas on cross-border cooperation to help the Peace negotiations. Home afterwards on a lovely old No. 11 bus to Victoria, one of the last to have the open doorways that Sarah likes, so she can escape in an emergency.

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Wednesday 18 March 1998 Up early on glorious sunny spring morning. To the bank to draw the necessary ammunition to deliver fatal blows to the Cheltenham bookies. Taxi to Paddington and caught an earlier train through sunny Downs to the Cotswolds. Coffee at the station amid an air of expectancy and lots of clearly Irish punters. Walk the two miles to the course. Wonderful. Cheltenham looked so pretty, lovely shops and nice people in the streets. As I set out, a white stretch limo passed me, full of rich ladies. As I got near the course I passed them stuck in the traffic jam. Booked into the Ladbrokes box with nice Chris Bell, then wandered off to smell the fabulous air of the meeting. Saw Charles setting up his bookie’s stall; and the Queen Mum arriving, 96 and still smiling and waving, though now tiny and fragile. Steak and kidney pud for lunch, not bad for a zealot vegetarian. Jamie Osborne, the top jockey, took us through the card. Absolutely confident that One Man could not win – my top form choice, so I decided not to back it as my banker of the day. It won at 3–1. I watched some races from the box and for others wandered the course. Terrific races, gorgeous weather, happy Irish crowds. An Irish official from Brussels came to introduce himself and said Joe Walsh was away in some bar and hoped to see me. I loved it all so much that I stayed beyond the end. Charles drove me to the station and then a small nightmare began. All the Virgin trains were late. Ours wandered around for three hours, full of tipsy punters and some disinterested policemen. I read the morning’s Times and found the three racing correspondents had tipped 23 horses between them; not one had won and only one been placed. Still, I hadn’t had a winner either. The problem with Cheltenham is that all the horses are trying. Tipsters are not accustomed to that.

Thursday 19 March 1998 Went to Harley Street doctor about my painful big toe. He said it is arthritis and I must have an operation. Agree to delay it until the summer recess so I don’t have to stand at the Lords dispatch box with a bandaged foot and wearing trainers. At front bench we have the figures on Lords ministers’ salaries and how 3,500 officials are paid more than their ministers – 125 in MAFF and nearly 500 in the Foreign and Commonwealth Office (FCO). And they have safe jobs and pensions.

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Left for interesting dinner with Royal College of Vets, under threat of a vote at any time. In fact, they lifted the whip ten minutes after I left, but I did not know. Had nice letter from Jean Trumpington, thanking me for my get-well card. She is out of the Lister with a new knee – shall take her to lunch.

Friday 20 March 1998 Incredibly beautiful spring day. Did this diary, looking out over the ponds where Jacob Rothschild’s ducks are busy nesting in their little floating houses Sarah has provided. Evening to Oxford for Spring Feast at Lincoln. Speak to Rector Eric Anderson about our plans for cleaning the rivers of the South-West – he is taking over from Jacob Rothschild at the Lottery Heritage Fund. Pity they have been so slow at our end that we cannot get the lottery money before Jacob retires. The Oxford dinner was very nice. Sat at High Table. On the left was Lord Justice Cullen, the Scot who chaired the Piper Alpha and Dunblane inquiries. Cool and glinty. Seemed not too keen on James Mackay ­ ­(presumably because he wanted to cut lawyers’ fees). They served me the vegetarian menu, possibly having read the press reports. Wine excellent, though I stuck to gallons of water. Chatted with previous Rector Maurice Shock, who says he cannot work out the direction of the New Labour government or what Blair stands for. Thinks trying to please everybody will fall apart once the going gets tough.

Saturday 21 March 1998 Woke early to phone David Montgomery. He was due to talk to Blair about Northern Ireland, so I gave him some ideas on promoting cross-border cooperation without executive powers and without involving constitutional issues. Also said he must raise the official culture of the Northern Ireland office. It is bred in direct rule and has accumulated institutional anti-Catholic prejudices – quite unsuitable for the phase after the settlement, when local cross-sectarian cooperation must be nurtured. He phoned me again later. On Ireland, Blair was totally committed to the settlement and means to go to Belfast for some time to work on it. He has the Irish PM Ahern on side to change the Republic constitution and to accept ‘consent’ as the basis for Northern Ireland, which is a key change.

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That will isolate the IRA. But David had to stress to him that on crossborder there is a limit to what Trimble can sell to his followers and there must be no element of constitutional change or executive power in it. It has been a major step for the Unionists to accept a cross-border framework and we should be grateful for that. David and I agree that it would help to have an advisory council to follow up the settlement and keep the cross-border momentum going, or it will dribble away. He also said there are some really terrible people in the North, ‘the dregs of humanity’, on both sides, who are capable of the most barbarous behaviour. They must be sidelined. I promised to write a brief before his next visit – soon – to see Blair. It is a curious aspect of this government that outsiders have ready access to No. 10, but actual members of the government do not. I have still not had an acknowledgement of my memo on the ISAs, even though the Treasury followed my advice (except on using National Savings). It confirms what David Miliband said to me, that Blair prefers talking to chief executives than to fellow politicians. So I gain access to my PM on Ireland via David. But his knowledge and judgement on Northern Ireland is very sound.

Sunday 22 March 1998 Father Flanagan told us he left Cheltenham broke, but racing proved it was necessary ‘always to look to the future’. Said we mustn’t be disapproving of sins; they made us humble and human. Would be intolerable if we were sinless. Struck me that Father Flanagan represents all that is good in humanity: humour, helpful, forgiving and wishing the best.

Monday 23 March 1998 Grey day. Went in promptly for ministerial meeting with Ben Gill and the NFU. Good atmosphere. Today, in reply to my complaint, received creepy letter from the Sunday Times claiming that their article had not been meant to convey any criticism of me at all, that I had been completely innocent, I knew nothing of Maxwell’s crimes, etc. So why did they publish the lying crap in the first place? Clearly have no evidence and afraid I would sue them – which as a minister I cannot do without resigning. And could not afford to do anyway.

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Tuesday 24 March 1998 Della came in early to help with my many private letters. Then went to speak to our conference on Brown’s New Deal, providing jobs and training for the young. Really just a soundbite. Journalist Elinor Goodman took me to visit the Commons press gallery. First time there since I went there with Joe Haines in 1976. Dreary and empty and not a single other minister eating with the journalists as they used to. Not much trust there. Elinor, who retains good standards, told me she is fed up with the No. 10 spin doctors. Says they lie. Yesterday denied that Blair had argued Murdoch’s Berlusconi take-over case to the Italians, but today admit it is true. She said she had told Blair that she was ‘pleased he was sending Bernard Donoughue to the countryside rally’ – wonder if he remembered who I was. Thinks Blair wants to be loved too much, which is present standard critical view. Like Major, he often phones journalists directly to try to influence their line. Harold and Jim would not do that. Sarah collected me and we went to Allen Jones’ lovely huge loft apartment in Charterhouse Square – high walls covered in paintings and drawings. Met Graham Greene there and chatted with Nick Serota.

Wednesday 25 March 1998 Dashed to Waterloo and caught the train only by seconds to Dorchester for a nice group lunch in an old inn in pretty Beaminster. Never stopped raining all day. Main discussion on how to teach the towns to appreciate the countryside. Then off to a big pig farm to launch my ‘Buy British Bacon’ campaign. Then three-hour drive back to Heathrow, clearing a red box in the back seat en route. Emirates plane left on time and wonderfully comfy flight, arriving in blazing Dubai at 2.20 am, my body time.

Thursday 26 March 1998 Back to the Hilton Beach Hotel. Lunched on the terrace overlooking the sea with Christopher Spence, big and clubby jockey club senior steward. Afternoon lying by the sea reading good Patrick O’Brian novel, my ninth in the present marathon reading session. Evening to the familiar desert extravaganza, in the same fortress as last year, with the same tinny bands and plump ladies rolling their bellies and swishing their manes. A beautiful hot desert evening. There was a great display of foods and I had some fine fish, but still on water for Lent.

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Friday 27 March 1998 Excellent hotel suite, high ceilings and wide room with lovely terrace and window-doors looking over the tropical gardens. Devastatingly hot outside. Chatted at lunch with nice bunch of racing journalists, who are sad that the Sporting Life is closing. Sat reading through the afternoon on the beach – lovely breeze. Swam and then back to room to phone Sarah. I feel great.

Saturday 28 March 1998 The Big Race Day. The cream of British and Irish racing present. Thousands of Arabs in white dress and finery. Sheikh Mohammed has turned the racing World Cup into a great pageant. Lines of Arab stallions ridden by soldiers wearing and carrying coloured silks and streaming silk flags. And the usual tin bands and shrieking. The race was great, with the American Kentucky Derby winner, Silver Charm, just holding on to beat brave Swain, who would have passed him in another yard. It was lovely to sit alone high in the stand box and look out over the hot desert evening, the richly dressed crowds and the superb horses, with the Dubai skyscrapers in the distance. Quite romantic, a bit Hollywood, though wish Sarah was present. Always I am abroad on my own, while everyone else has their partner to share. Retired to my room for supper alone. The circus is now over – lots of people leaving first thing in the morning. Great success for the Sheikh, who created it from nothing.

Sunday 29 March 1998 Wonderful relaxed day lying by the sea. Took car to the souk to buy a little something for Sarah. Started the Sassoon Memoirs of an Infantry Officer: familiar World War I stuff, elegantly written.

Monday 30 March 1998 Up at 6.00 am and off to airport to fly to Brussels for the Agriculture Council. Back to reality.

Tuesday 31 March 1998 Grey morning and small hotel room. Read my briefs for the big Agriculture Council debate on reform of the CAP.

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The Council met in a different room, octagonal, with the TV present to demonstrate our openness. Poor viewers – each contribution was half an hour long (except me at 10 minutes, again the briefest). Nobody responded to anything anyone else had said. The Greek contribution would, as usual, have anaesthetised the most avid soap watcher. I made officials accept changes to my draft, omitting anything on olive oil to please the Spanish fire girl, and not being as hostile to ‘modulation’, leaving some possibility of redistributing from farming rich to poor, unthinkable under the Tories and the old MAFF. Our official complained this was ‘not government policy’. I said I didn’t know what government policy was on most issues since I hadn’t been involved in deciding it – nor I suspect had Jack. They said they had put a long paper ‘before Jack’ and that was government policy. I suggested next time they might show me a copy. I managed to get some changes. Chairman Fischler was again very good on the broad Agenda 2000, though he suffered the rest of the day from everyone, except us and the Swedes, attacking it (especially his own Austrians and the Germans). You would think he was proposing revolution, instead of some mild adjustments. All ministers met for lunch and Jack used it to break the deadlock on applying controls to Specified Risk Materials on the continent. There had been a majority against each proposal, but nothing in favour of anything. Except, they all support controls on the UK, providing the controls don’t apply to them. France’s minister Ponsec broke the deadlock by proposing a delay until July – and the rest said would support that providing they delayed until the end of the year. So there was a happy unanimity for delay. Fischler pointed out sharply that this was all very well, but how could the Commission produce a solution in December any more than now when nobody agreed on a solution. The most they can ever agree is to delay and do nothing. Cannot imagine this lot can ever create a serious new united Europe. The afternoon droned on as before, with ever longer speeches. The basic division is between us and the Swedes on the one hand, who view the CAP as a silly system, which fortunately we are periodically able to modify because of the sensible and welcome external pressures of EU enlargement and from the World Trade Organization (WTO), and the rest, who view the CAP as a perfect agricultural model, which occasionally and regrettably they are reluctantly forced to alter by the silly external pressures of the WTO and enlargement.

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The French were basically defending the old CAP position, but did introduce an interesting new idea of a percentage of the budget being left to individual members’ discretion. I would like that and wanted to welcome it in my speech, but officials wouldn’t allow that. If the UK suggests such renationalisation of the budget, we would be accused of being against the EU. The French can always get away with it. The Germans opposed every aspect of reform. They concluded by saying their main aim was to make their farmers ‘successful entrepreneurs’ – having spent the previous half-hour proposing to isolate their farmers from every single market force. For them, it is ‘bunker Europe’. Everyone just read out their prepared texts while the others took off their ear phones. These statements could have been submitted on paper, bound and circulated for us to read at leisure and later comment, without the need for all this expensive ministerial time wasted in Brussels. But it ensures that the real negotiating is done later by officials. Might have been better for me to stay at home.

Wednesday 1 April 1998 Walked in to the Lords for a late lunch. Sat with Denis Healey, who said he thought it was only four in ten that the European single currency would work. So right for UK to wait and see. Always shrewd. Back to MAFF to good official meeting on promoting our campaign for promoting British regional foods. Beginning to make progress here. Spent hours clearing backlog of papers and signing hundreds of letters.

Thursday 2 April 1998 Front bench covered us until Easter. And Ivor Richard gave a good report on the morning’s Cabinet, as I suggested to him last week. Went down well. Lunched alone downstairs, reading Kathleen Reilly’s book on education, with long piece on Jim’s 1976 education speech at Ruskin College (and my part in it). My hostile views on the then National Union of Teachers (NUT) well represented. Margaret Jay told me she had been approached by Christopher Bland and offered Deputy Chairmanship of BBC with chairmanship probably to follow. She will decline because too soon, but I advised her to consult Blair, who might want her to do it, so BBC covered at next election. We went together to another fatuous Cabinet sub-committee on the mythical Millennium Bug. No clear agenda and so no decisions.

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Before leaving for Fox’s Walk I had a long chat with Joe Haines. Seemed much more perky, He is wasted and should be with us in the Lords.

Friday 3 April 1998 Windy day with hail showers. Did this diary and then off to Alan Godsal lunch for the leaders of the Country Landowners. Nice bunch. Discussed CAP reform and the future of farming. I set out the numbers; that they have the biggest subsidy in the UK and still are unhappy, so it obviously isn’t working. Need a new structure. They seemed to accept that. Red box full of agricultural magazines. Dreary read. Full of complaints. The horticultural ones attack me. First for not always going to speak to the horticulture conferences. Then they complain about what I say when I go. Will give them up.

Saturday 4 April 1998 Great Grand National day. Strong wind and rain and hail. Did my usual betting system – Earth Summit – which won easily at 7–1. Cleared papers after, then watched Scorsese’s film Taxi Driver, brilliant study of a nutter and of seedy New York, but too dark and violent for my taste.

Sunday 5 April 1998 David Montgomery phoned. Going to see Blair tomorrow. Arrange to talk after. Discuss cross-border institutions, which Blair has promised Trimble will only be consultative, not executive powers. Now he should concede a wider range of cross-border issues – such as tourism and agriculture – to give the nationalists something to take away. Curiously, Trimble had not spoken to the Irish premier Ahern during the last three weeks of negotiations leading up to this week’s conclusions. Suspicions too deep. This all interests me a bit more than tomorrow morning’s speech to the Potato Council in Oxford.

Monday 6 April 1998 Actually the visit to the new Potato Council was much better than expected. A good young bunch, not just representing the producers, and full of ideas. I had a good discussion with them and then cut the ribbon to open their bright new building. Cheered me up to meet a group who did not once whinge.

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Up to London for lunch with the Country Landowners at Boodles. Friendly discussion on the usual CAP and right to roam. Vicious weather, cold, windy and heavy showers. Attended a low-level Cabinet committee under Clare Short in Victoria Street on international aid. My officials forgot to include the discussion paper so I couldn’t follow the discussion. Overseas Aid seems to mean potentially endless expenditure on liberal good intentions that are not adequately monitored. I had been assured that, if there was a Lords vote, I would have a car at the door in Victoria Street to whisk me to the vote, but of course they didn’t deliver: the car was in the garage and I missed the vote, the Chamber gates slammed in my face. Fortunately, we won comfortably, but I won’t attend any more committees outside of Parliament. Tea with Margaret Jay, becoming a regular treat, since we have much in common, especially a lack of long-term political ambition and not taking the Lords too seriously, and go back a long way sharing many experiences. She had spoken to Anji Hunter in No. 10 about Bland’s offer of the BBC deputy chairmanship; Anji said Blair might want her to do it, but no copper-bottomed commitment about getting the chairmanship afterwards. Margaret told me that when Blair phoned her last May to offer her a job, she said she wanted to be a minister of state. He said it was difficult, but later came back to say that was OK. Perhaps I should have asked? On Jim’s p ­ edestrian secretary, Tom McCaffrey, she said he suited Jim as having no charisma and attracting no press interest to the personal side of his office. ‘My dad says he would have hated the current media obsession with the Blairs.’ Jim would hate all the current interest in Alastair Campbell. He wanted anonymity – for his press secretary and for himself. ‘He doesn’t realise that Tony loves all this media attention’, said Margaret. David Montgomery came in at 7.30 pm and reported on his visit to Blair about Ulster in Marcia’s old small room next to the Cabinet Room that he uses as an office, with Jonathan Powell present. Said Blair is absolutely exhausted and nervy. Still hoping for a settlement. Intends to go to Belfast tomorrow to help the negotiations, although David advised him not to; best to stay off until he had a solution. If he is there as participant, he can’t stand off and arbitrate. Blair seemed confident of ultimate success. Full of praise for Mo Mowlam and he will keep her there for a while after the settlement to tie up the loose ends. Blair said he was very worried – and seemed angry – about the p ­ olitical situation in Scotland, where the Scottish Nationalists are making great ­progress. Blamed it all on Old Scottish Labour, with its corruption, ­patronage and no interest in a modern policy agenda. He wanted David’s Scottish

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newspapers to support Labour in the coming referendum. David said he could do that more easily if Scottish Labour had a progressive policy platform his editors could support. We agreed Blair should send Donald Dewar to the Scottish Office as putative first minister as soon as possible, backed by Helen Liddell, to sort out the Scottish Labour Party. Needs tough treatment.

Tuesday 7 April 1998 Walked through Belgrave Square and across St James’s Park to the Guards and Cavalry Club to give the Landowners Group a talk on CAP reform – basically repeating my statement to last week’s Council. I went because Tory Marcus Kimball had arranged it and he is always a good friend. The Duke of Devonshire was there and he told me I should do the BHB – said, flatteringly, ‘you are the only one with the stature’. His son, Stoker, was the first chairman and I don’t think I could do as well as him. Dashed back for Jack’s big seminar launching our new aid scheme to organic farming. Nearly over when I got there but clearly went well. However, we still cannot announce the extra money until the Treasury clears our comprehensive spending review. So little room for any new initiatives that it takes all pleasure out of being a new minister. Locked in the old framework, mainly determined in Brussels. Treasury minister Geoffrey Robinson came in to see me for a general chat, deriving from my Xmas letter about reforming ISAs. He said he was grateful for that. Officials had ‘completely misled’ him on the possibilities, given him completely the wrong figures on the cost of keeping the existing PP investments etc. He agreed with my letter. We soon resumed our old friendship. He liked my room but said he couldn’t understand ‘what the hell you are doing wasting your time here at agriculture. You are much better than this.’ I told him I was bored but, like him, was waiting to see the reshuffle. He said he kept reading briefings from No. 10 that he was going to Transport, but nobody had told him anything. He loves the Treasury and gets involved in very big things there. We discussed my views on ending the red diesel tax exemption for farmers, which he approved, but advised against my supporting a land tax since he said ‘Tony would oppose that as not being New Labour’. It should come. We discussed the Maxwell situation. He had bought companies from Maxwell and sat on two of his boards. Said, ‘He always seemed short of cash’ and that he was ‘very clever at appearing respectable to those who would want that before dealing with him’ – for example, me!

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Geoffrey seemed quite relaxed over his own ‘offshore’ troubles in the media and said Blair had been superb in defending him. I envied his calm before the media assault. His private office summoned him back to the Treasury. Then to dinner at the Gran Paradiso with the Carnarvons. Great fun. Henry was in a wicked mood, teasing Sarah and remarkably full of life at 72. Henry told us two touching stories about the Queen. First was when she went racing in Normandy on an official visit to France to celebrate the 1944 Normandy landings. Henry took her to a French restaurant in Honfleur. She did not know how to order her meal. Told him she had never ordered a meal from a menu before. Second was when she recently went to a pub for the first time in her life. She liked it but again she didn’t know you had to order a drink from the bar. So she stood there and waited, expecting a drink to arrive on a tray. Said she would have loved a gin and martini, but had nothing. Her aides should have told her to go to the bar and order – not her fault. Today Blair flew to Belfast to try to rescue the talks. Trimble is saying he cannot accept the Senator Mitchell paper because it gives too much to Sinn Fein. Seems the Irish have bounced some Republican bits in at the last minute. Perhaps this is Trimble’s own fault for not maintaining contact with Bertie Ahern.

Wednesday 8 April 1998 Brief ministerial meeting then we all withdrew to Jack’s room and he led a good political discussion of our future strategy on rural policy. Led on to discussion about how to focus our rural policies. Must identify the new countryside, very diverse, and help that. Afterwards, Jack’s adviser, Cathy, took me on one side and said she would be leaving soon. She is fed up with the officials shutting her out, not telling her of meetings, not copying papers to her, not including her suggestions in Jack’s speeches etc. Asked me to look out for a job for her. A lovely girl. She  loves my young secretary Simon. He is genuinely nice and tries to defend my interests against the department. Took Liz Lloyd (from the Number Ten Policy Unit) to my room. Discussed ‘risk analysis’, which she appreciates is important for Health and MAFF. But the meetings on it never take place. Officials say it is ‘so important that all ministers must be present’ – and then never fix it because they say they can never find a time when all ministers are

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available. Straight Yes Minister stuff. Told Liz about the difficulties Jack was having with Packer. Packer was simply refusing to allow an outside assessment of the bloated and incompetent Information division – and kept cancelling the meetings Jack called to discuss it. And concerned that Packer controlled the £130  million MAFF research money, keeping ministers away from it. And he controls a whole range of research units, which are independent of ministers, controlled by ‘arms-length boards’ – but Packer is chairman of every board. ‘Independent’ means ‘keep ministers and public accountability out’. Jack said this morning that he would have to bite the Packer bullet. Should have done it long ago. If this is not all changed by the summer, I shall go. Of course I may have been sacked before then. Won’t weep many tears. The Permanent Secretary came in to explain to me why they could not reclaim aid from those livestock farmers who had been in breach of contract and failed to keep records – because MAFF had sloppily failed to warn them of the consequences in the first place. So loose waste of money goes on and on because of MAFF’s own failures. Cannot tell them to recoup the money and then be sued for not having warned them in the first place. Usual rock and a hard place in this department. Home early to prepare for our great dinner party. A roaring success. Derry Irvine, Robin and Jill Butler, Tessa Blackstone and the Montgomerys, at the new Mijanou. Derry had been nervous about coming, but clearly loved it. Like a great bear puppy. Flirted delightfully with Sophie  Montgomery, who had been petrified of sitting next to the distinguished Lord Chancellor, but loved talking to him about art. Robin and Tessa sorted out Oxbridge fees. Derry told us the worst thing about his job was his huge wig. Terribly hot in long debates. He wants to get rid of all his eighteenth-century garb and one day walk in to the chamber in formal modern dress. Derry said he would reluctantly keep the knickers and breeches, but the wig was intolerable. Also said, following the uproar about the Pugin wallpaper on his office walls, he would announce he was going to order a Pugin dog kennel for his dog. He is looking forward to having Hayden Phillips as permanent secretary – Robin said he is a great operator with a good ratio of success-to-paper output. He will suit Derry, both enjoying pomp and style and having good taste. Sarah was astonished at how much she had enjoyed dinner with these Labour heavyweights. Derry loved it, as did Robin. I promised to visit the latter at his Oxford college. Not to bed until well after midnight, but felt great.

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Thursday 9 April 1998 Terrible morning. Woke with water pouring in the bathroom ceiling and covering the garage floor. Got a brave man by phone who came to unblock. But everything soaked and electricity off, no light and heating. Meanwhile I was trying to finish my correspondence with Della, answer the phone, answer the door and got very ratty. Particularly since it meant I couldn’t do any homework for my PQ on animal welfare. So it didn’t go too well and I felt irritable and dissatisfied. Fortunately not many peers there to witness it. Maggie drove me home through terrible bank holiday traffic – cleared a huge boring red box. Then disaster at Fox’s Walk. The ducks given us by Jacob Rothschild have disappeared and their ducklings are dead. Sarah devastated. I suspect it is shooters and will shoot the bastards if I catch them. So sad afternoon. Bad start to the holiday. And floods everywhere, especially in South Northants, where it may threaten Towcester races on Saturday. At Wednesday dinner I had a £5 bet with Robin Butler, he saying that Packer would outlast me at Agriculture. Robin seemed pretty confident. Not sure if that is because he believes I will leave MAFF quickly, either from my or from Blair’s choice, or if he thinks the new Cabinet Secretary will find it difficult to place Packer elsewhere. Robin said he never resolved the latter problem, or Packer ‘would have gone long ago’.

Good Friday, 10 April 1998 Quiet day, bitterly cold and wet. Read some terrific Patrick O’Brian (Treason’s Harbour). Searched for missing ducks – puzzled why they have disappeared. Watched Liverpool with only 10 men draw with jaded Man United, who look like throwing away the championship. Midlands under water. M40 in Warwickshire unpassable. And Northants a lake. So Towcester racing tomorrow looks unlikely. The River Tove, in which I used to swim and fish, burst its banks and flooded the lower half of the course. In the evening, a delicious supper at a pub near Ascot with Colin and Susan, still brown from Getty’s yacht in the Caribbean, though depressed by our cricketers – mediocre beyond belief. Colin is looking forward to finishing the MCC Presidency, which has proved more work, more petty politics and less fun than he anticipated. We are all cheered by the fact that this week the gossip snout, Dempster, was found guilty of drink driving. Worse, he clearly lied to the police, claiming

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his refusal to take the test was due to some profound allergy to needles. Apparently argued he drank two pints of orange juice and didn’t know it had a lot of vodka in it.

Sunday 12 April 1998 Sasha came to mass with me. Sunny but bitterly cold, rather like Switzerland in January. The day floated away. Paul came to lunch and played tennis. Papers full of Blair’s triumph in Ireland. Achieved on Good Friday after an all-night session. Great tribute to Blair. He rescued it a dozen times when without him it would have fallen apart. Of course it will flake and be t­hreatened at times when the psychopath extremists on both sides try to blow it apart. But it does constitute great progress. Providing the ­referendum gets support, then it means the mainstream parties, including Sinn Fein, will be locked into a democratic process. There will be an assembly and indigenous politics, instead of the vacuum that has left the men of violence in charge. The amendments to our Northern Ireland constitution, allowing change by consent, and to the Irish constitution, ending their claim to the North other than with consent, are major steps forward. That Sinn Fein accepts change by consent means that the ballot box has supremacy over the armalite rifle. This is all real progress. Trimble was good and took great risks with his own backwoodsmen. Ditto Adams, who will now probably be murdered by his own side, like Michael Collins. Now they have to work on building cooperation between the communities within the North, and between North and South, at ground level. Agreements never last if they are roof-level between politicians. They have to work from the floor up. For the Republicans, they can see that in the future they can get a united Ireland by consent and should work politically for that. But it won’t be for a long time, since a significant minority of Catholics in the North prefer to stay with Britain. A united Ireland is a viable target, but only by democratic means. The Loyalists now know they won’t be sold out to the Republic by British politicians, nor taken by Republican force. They must work through the political process to keep a majority for the British option. That is a great achievement for democracy and a defeat for violence. It is Blair’s first success as a statesman. His other ‘victories’ have all been political or the consequence of media handling. This is real statesmanship, the result of faith, vision and bloody hard work on his side. Watched the golf in the evening with Charles. Americans dominate and steady O’Meara quietly won at the last stroke.

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Monday 13 April 1998 Started bright and brass sunny, but still freezing, and later sleet and snow showers. Charles and others played tennis before he left for freezing Kempton. Good news is that most of the ducks are back, one couple with a trail of 11 ducklings. Sarah now much happier. The puzzle answered when late this evening I saw a huge rat swim across the pond to the little duck house, start eating the corn and go into the house. I was furious. The rats have eaten the eggs and driven the ducks away. So I dashed upstairs for my shotgun and, although quite dark and just an evil shape on the boarding plank, I blasted him off into the water. He swam to the far bank and climbed ashore, but then rolled down into the pond and sank. So I went on guard at my bedroom window and, shortly after, his mate emerged from beneath the tennis hut and came to eat the ducks’ grain. I could just see the shape and did for her – flames spurting from the end of my shotgun in the dark – two out of two shots, very pleasing. Don’t like killing animals, but any enemy of Jacob’s lovely ducks is an enemy of mine.

Tuesday 14 April 1998 Large dead rat lying by the pond this morning, legs stiff in the air. We got John the gardener to move it, since I don’t have the courage for that. The other one had sunk to the bottom of the pond. Maybe the ducks will return safely now. Still vicious weather. Peterborough and Northampton under water with people drowned. We missed the worst of it, but bitterly cold with drizzle. I finish the terrific O’Brian and look forward to buying the 10th and 11th for Whitsun in France.

Wednesday 15 April 1998 Weather even worse, grey, cold and freezing wet, worst Easter for decades, still floods in the Midlands and East Anglia. Read more Alexander the Great by Robin Lane Fox, slowly getting into it, but never studied Classics or ancient Greece, so no background or intellectual infrastructure, which slows me down. Phoned Margaret Jay in Cork, where she is having coffee in the garden sunshine. Must go there more often. She talked to Mo Mowlam yesterday. Very tired but said must stay in Northern Ireland until Xmas to tie up the loose ends of the Peace Agreement.

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Up to London in the late afternoon, reading a red box in the car. Realise Cathy is right and that my assistant secretary, Simon, is being moved after only a few months because he is too close to me, too helpful and won’t play the department games. Such ministerial private office appointments are usually for 2 to 3 years. To move him again so quickly can only be for curious reasons. Loyalty to a minister is probably a dismissable offence in MAFF.

Friday 17 April 1998 Flew to Shannon after lunch for big meeting with the Irish minister at their invitation. Approaching Ireland, the clouds cleared and blue skies. Two-hour drive south to Killarney. Nice comfortable car and police escort. Lovely Irish spring evening, very bright with light cloud shadows on the hills. Stayed at the wonderful Aghadoe Heights Hotel, with marvellous view over Killarney town and lower lakes. Had delicious dinner there with Joe Walsh and Irish delegation; from our side Alf Dubs and myself (with no officials). Lots of light chat to get relaxed and comfortable. Then at end I touched on dog quarantine – where we must stay close to them – and Agenda 2000, where we have totally different interests but must make sure we stay friendly through all the differences. Ireland is usually our most loyal ally in Brussels. Drank more wine than in previous two months.

Saturday 18 April 1998 Woke to beautiful sun streaming in and fine view of the lakes. Walked half-hour with Alf to nearby Catholic church. Discussed my MAFF official support, which Alf has observed is far inferior to what he gets in the Northern Ireland office – confirmed later when, for the official meeting with the Irish, I had no copy of the agenda and no briefing for any of the nine items which came up. Alf had the lot, his office having bothered to phone up beforehand to ask. We drove 40 miles to the races at Listowel with Joe Walsh. Satisfying, since I had come to Kerry two years ago meaning to go to the races but had failed to get there. A pleasant country atmosphere, surrounded by low hills, although the town is no great beauty and the course is dominated by the Kerrygold butter factory. Joe officially opened the new stand in bright sunshine. The local politicians were all there and the priest blessed it with liberal holy water. Lunch was serious and the long speeches nearly made us miss the first race. I sat next to nice Mrs Brosnan and a keen racing lady

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named, appropriately, Mrs O’Donoghue; there are plenty of those in these parts and my father always told me he thought his family was from Kerry – though no certificates of evidence. JP McManus, the great gambler, arrived in a helicopter and sat at the next table with his lively coven of daughters. Joe Walsh is tall and heavy, rather slow in the way one expects with Cork men, but shrewd and natural and amusing. We spent the whole meeting together, looking at the horses in the paddock, getting our bets on and watching from the directors box. As we walked around between races, dozens of people came up to shake his hands and wish him luck. Everyone knows and respects him. They are also respectful of him simply as a minister – something now totally absent from Britain. An interesting point was that when he handed his bet to the bookmakers, they never gave him a ticket as proof of his bet. I queried this. The bookie shrugged and said ‘A minister doesn’t need a ticket.’ We had very successful early bets, following Dermot Weld and great jockey Mick Kinane. Then we met Paul Webber, my Guilder trainer over from England, bringing his Land Afar for the steeplechase. We went into the paddock with him; he happy and optimistic, the Irish delighted he had come so far to bring a top horse, the favourite. At the fifth fence the horse stumbled and was pulled up, his ligament gone. I went to the stable to watch him being strapped up and given pain killers, a grand old veteran horse with pain and fear in his eyes. Thank God he wasn’t put down, but he will never race again. Paul tried to cheer me up and said he had a sure winner in the next race at Ayr. Watching the TV we saw the horse fall and it was put down – two horses lost in 20 minutes. Paul was now phoning the owners, tears in his eyes. That is the downside of racing, especially National Hunt. One minute on a cloud, the next tears. Out to Foley’s restaurant in Killarney for a lovely fish dinner. A wonderful atmosphere. The Irish looked after us marvellously. The problem is, how do we return such hospitality? MAFF is reluctant to buy a single drink for its own ministers, let alone for a foreign visitor. They even failed to send me with a little gift of thanks to Joe, which Alf ’s officials had carefully done. Alf is wonderful company, sweet and charming, and clearly an old-style Czech, cultured and humorous, and not an Anglo-Saxon. Told me his father emigrated to England when Alf was 10 and soon died. His mother lived with romantic memories of Bohemia, but he as a boy decided he had to leave that behind and become British. Fortunately, he didn’t wholly succeed.

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Ireland is now a prosperous and confident country and clearly a nice place to live. I must visit more often. Could even live there, if Sarah would come.

Sunday 19 April 1998 It had rained overnight but was a fine morning. Went for a brief walk with Alf down past the churchyard and an old ruined church, looking Norman. Terrific views over the lakes and hills. Then drove to tiny Kerry airport to fly in an official government plane to Dublin. Again note that MAFF would not provide this for its own Cabinet minister, let alone a visiting junior minister. Straight to the British Ambassador’s residence – striking castle style in grey stone and lovely 35 acres of grounds. Buried there, appropriately, is the first Irish winner of the English Derby. Chatted with Ambassador Veronica Sutherland. Our embassy is helping to sponsor today’s Leopardstown race meeting – such a magnificent gesture that I told her I would now put on hold my plans to abolish the Foreign Office. A big reception developed, with many of the top dogs of Dublin present. I chatted for a long time with the Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, who remembered our great football match between the English and Irish Parliaments, which Trevor West and I arranged in Islington. When I recalled that, as a midfield player, I had ‘marked him’, he responded painfully, ‘Marked me, you marked me for life.’ Said he still had our team photo on his wall. We all congratulated Ahern on the triumphal agreement in Northern Ireland, and he in turn praised Blair. He also thought Trimble did well. His only concern was that the British government might not campaign hard enough in the coming referendum. We drove just down the road to the course, which is modern and attractive and fortunately under cover, since it was pouring with rain ­ until the sun broke through after the third race. Joe and I again did our tours of the paddock and the bookmakers. We met rich businessman Tony O’Reilly and I told him I saw him play for Leicester against Northampton at Franklin’s Gardens 40 years ago, when he was the golden boy of Irish rugby. Hair-raising ride to the airport surrounded by police motor cycles, who held up the traffic all the way – again, cannot imagine that happening in London in my battered old official car. Home late to bed, unpacked and repacked for early departure tomorrow morning for Luxembourg. But what a wonderful weekend.

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Monday 20 April 1998 Headed through heavy traffic for Northolt, where we joined Jack and Commissioner Fischler coming from the North. That relationship is very helpful to us in Europe and is a great tribute to Jack. I sat with Jack, who said he has never had any money and still lives in the house he bought for £5000 when getting married 30 years ago. Currently, various Blair juvenile aids are leaving to earn £100,000 a year, trading their great experience and access to No. 10. Blair’s No. 2 press officer is now joining Murdoch to strengthen the already-iron grip the media monster has on New Labour. We also discussed trying to make MAFF the ministry for racing and the horse, as in Ireland. Jack was taken with the Joe Walsh example and asked me to draft a memo for him to send to No. 10. Luxembourg was dreary, rainy and lifeless – saw nobody on the streets, just a bureaucratic oasis. Cannot imagine ever coming here again once I cease to be a minister. To the Council chamber for a long agenda – price fixing, bananas, olive oil, tobacco etc. On tobacco, the northern producers – Austria, Germany and Belgium – all argued that subsidies should be increased to north Europe because those countries are so climatically unsuitable for tobacco ­production that, without increasing subsidy, they might be forced to stop growing. The ski industry in Uganda might be developed and subsidised on the same basis. They also reject our health arguments against their tobacco on the grounds that no Europeans smoke this filthy stuff anyway and the victims are mainly in the Third World. I suppose a kind of selective population control. But we did make excellent progress under Jack’s firm chairmanship and completed five out of the seven items before dinner. Read the obituaries of Denis Howell, a dear friend I had known since working together in the Campaign for Democratic Socialism days starting in 1960. A truly Christian man, as well as a superbly professional political operator. He was very important to me in the early 1980s at the time of the Labour split and the formation of the Social Democratic Party. Most of my political friends (and wife) left to join the SDP. But Denis was quite clear that it would not last ‘because it had no roots’ and that the only way to beat the Hard Left was from within the Labour Party. I stayed with him rather than follow Bill  Rodgers and Roy Jenkins to the SDP – and have never regretted it. Denis had a marvellous mixture of compassion and tough Brummie common sense. I shall miss him. For dinner we drove to a pretty restaurant on the bank of the Moselle. This is the water linking France, Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany, with

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the German frontier clear across the river. Sitting there, could see how easily the German army crossed in May 1940, opposed by only two customs officers. And why it was madness of the French to bring their great Maginot Line to the south of here, but then stop, leaving this Ardennes undefended and an inviting channel for the German Panzer attack, leading straight to Paris and the Channel ports, with the Maginot bypassed and cut off. The fighting was much more severe here when the allies arrived in 1944–45 and there are German (and earlier Jewish) cemeteries nearby.

Tuesday 21 April 1998 Before flying back to Northolt we learned we had lost the Scottish court case – trying to prosecute a Scot for breaking the beef on the bone ban. Allegedly bad drafting of the regulations, which Jack and I could believe since the poorly paid MAFF lawyers are not very sharp. Went to the Lords for lunch, heard Questions, then home to open my letters and have my hair cut. A new lady who sheared the whole lot off. Looked as if I was just out of Pentonville or the paratroops. Have experienced nothing like that since the Co-op barber in Northampton in 1951.

Wednesday 22 April 1998 Off again, on the slow train to Chichester to visit horticulture. Lovely day and some nice people, mainly Dutch showing the English how to do it. Huge glass houses growing flowers and lettuces and peppers – one glasshouse was 10 acres. At least no whinging – they receive no subsidy so they don’t complain, ironically. Back for the theatre with Graham Greene and Sarah. Saw Stoppard’s latest piece, The Invention of Love, brilliantly acted by John Wood etc. Clever and moving.

Thursday 23 April 1998 Nick Brown, the chief whip, addressed the party meeting well and amusingly. Old Labour-style trade unionist and a good fixer. George Howarth phoned from the Home Office to ask if I wanted the BHB chairmanship. Not clear if he was actually offering it on behalf of anybody – strictly, it is a BHB appointment. But he and the Jockey Club are strongly opposed to Peter Savill and they are desperately looking for an alternative. I think I could have had it if I wanted, since the Jockey Club would probably have accepted me, faute de mieux. But I could never make up my mind, so it is too late and I said no to George.

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In the evening went to the Hilton for a Labour gala fundraising dinner. Sat at the Co-op table – a subdued lot and they were the only table that refused to give Blair a standing ovation for a very good and funny speech. He summarised the first year. Main theme that New Labour is very concerned with presentation and modernising but we still stick to the basic Labour principles, especially through education and the NHS. That is fair. They have actually delivered a lot there. He referred to most ministries’ achievements – but understandably not to agriculture. That is why it is a no-win situation for Jack and us ministers. To modernise agriculture, we must offend the farmers, but because of that we are unpopular in the press. Downing Street doesn’t like us, because it expects us to get media approval as the first priority. David Montgomery’s opening speech was excellent. Later, I talked with him and Jonathan Powell about Ireland and problems with the Orange marches. Blair in his speech specifically thanked David for his help on Ireland. Also chatted to Gerry Robinson, about to take over the Arts Council. I told him to get rid of the politically correct claptrappers in the bureaucracy and he seemed to agree. He will have to do it early or they will stifle him.

Saturday 25 April 1998 Great racing at Sandown. Sat at a table in the Royal Box with the Queen Mother. She is remarkable for 93: alert, eyes twinkling, keen on the racing gossip and full of fun. Remembers the names of all her past horses, which I cannot do. Chatted with Rose Parker Bowles, who loathes the press. Watched football at night. Arsenal cruising to championship. And Ginola stunning for Tottenham, alone saving them from relegation.

Sunday 26 April 1998 Quiet day, writing this, reading and lovely long walk with Honey.

Monday 27 April 1998 Up after lunch to tea with Denis Carter, our chief whip, still a little ­embarrassed that Blair’s list of glitter peers don’t turn up to vote – except for novelist Ruth Rendell, who is a truly working peer. Drinks with Ben Gill from the NFU. Fully understands the way British farming must go in the future, but difficulty carrying members. Then did the second reading of the pesticide bill. The whip was finally lifted at 10.30 pm and I went home to bed.

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Tuesday 28 April 1998 Spent the morning writing my memo to Jack on absorbing racing and the horsey culture into a new Ministry of Rural Affairs. Work pressure a little easier now, fewer meetings and especially while Jack away in China. Tea with Tory agricultural peers. Tom Stanley very good on the important role of co-operatives, on which MAFF has still failed to produce anything for me despite frequent requests. Useful meeting.

Wednesday 29 April 1998 Jack back from China looking very perky. Discussed agrimonetary compensation, where I said we must have a policy position ahead of end of year. Then it emerged that there had been a paper on the green pound, shown to Jack, and sent to the Commission, but not shown to me even though I am officially the minister involved. Jack rebuked the officials, but nothing will happen. Then with just ministers in Jack’s room, where we had an excellent discussion. First on official trips overseas, where they were fascinated by the information I had extracted on the thick list of official freebies. There were trips of up to seven officials going to Florida and to Monaco, costing up to £10,000 a time, and another £15,000 to visit American suppliers of our IT equipment. Official sleaze. They long refused to give me this information. Can see why. We discussed who should be next UK Commissioner to the EU. Has to be a Tory this time. I would like Richard Inglewood and tipped him off later. Fascinating meeting with young Barry White, the bright political adviser to the Ulster Unionists. Told me that the Ulster Unionists are totally divided and Trimble is in real trouble. He had not kept them informed during the Agreement talks and not held a meeting with them for over a month. They only supported the Agreement on Good Friday by 6–4. Now five of them are signing a letter saying they will come out against the Agreement, and against Trimble as leader. Led by chief whip Ross, who wants to be leader. Phoned Jonathan Powell to alert him that Trimble, who is going into No.  10 at 4.30 pm, is in trouble. He seemed surprised that I knew of Trimble’s secret visit there. For the first time, Jonathan said, ‘Thank you, that is very helpful.’ They are mad. If they torpedo the agreement the British people will be furious and will abandon them. Why spend billions on defence and social policy for people who are so stubborn and obtuse.

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Supper with Helen Liddell in the Barry Room. I trust her. She told me that, last May, Blair held up her appointment for a day while they checked out on the DTI Maxwell report situation. She thinks he would know about my position there as well and it was all OK. Helen admires Brown, but ‘I wish he wasn’t so obsessively political, always plotting and manoeuvring.’ She said he insists that everyone is either for him or for Blair. ‘It is creating terrible tension.’ Said Geoffrey Robinson is the closest to Brown and that the other ministers find it hard to break into that circle. She does not want promotion out of the Treasury. Prefers to be promoted internally to Treasury chief secretary. She fears Blair will make her Scottish secretary to sort out the political mess in the Scottish Labour Party. Doesn’t want that, wants to break out of Scotland. She also told me that Charlie Wilson, ex-Times editor and close to Maxwell, had admitted to her in a panic that he had known about Maxwell’s problems before the end – in October when the MCC Board was told of the missing collateral – and he had said nothing. Learned today that dear Stella Alexander has died aged 86. She was an important part of my life in the 1950s. Looked after me when I came down from Oxford, nurtured me in her pretty house in Campden Street in Notting Hill Gate. She smoothed some of my rough edges and introduced me to decent behaviour. She was a truly good person, probably the first I had ever met and nearly the last. I will write to her son Laidon.

Thursday 30 April 1998 Anniversary of the election victory coming up. Blair is even further ahead in the polls now than he was at the election. More Tories say they support him than Hague. First half of morning home with Della clearing correspondence. Wrote my long letter of condolence to Laidon Alexander about Stella. Made me very sombre. I had not kept sufficiently in touch with her. Not for the first time I lose an old friend after my neglect. At least I had kept close to dear Denis Howell. But what a cruel April. Stella, Denis – most of my links with the 1950s and early 1960s are dropping away. Then in for a meeting with Packer to clear some legal problem with milk quotas. As usual decide not to claw back overpaid subsidies to farmers. He recognises my existence only when there is a legal problem that might come back to bite later. Then he needs my ministerial signature on the bill so I can take the official blame.

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To usual boring front bench and boring party meeting. Daunting prospect of business ahead, with even Wednesdays going to three-line whip business. Then the even more boring Cabinet committee on the ludicrous Millennium Bug; this time the Full Monty committee in the drab big Ministerial Committee Room in the Commons. Chaired by Margaret Beckett, looking very pert and upright, correctly dressed like a magistrate or 1930s school teacher. Though a nice smile to me. Officials should sort out the problem – if it actually exists. Back for the debate on our proposal to simplify the archaic and ­time-consuming Lords Introduction Ceremony. We won 150–98 so all that Lords hat-doffing nonsense goes. One Tory lady rose to say it should be kept because it reminded her of her ceremony when she was introduced to the Brownies. Exactly.

Saturday 2 May 1998 Drove off in brilliant sunshine to Newmarket for the 2000 Guineas. Listened to Len Deighton’s ‘Bomber’ on the car tape; very gripping. Lunched with the sponsors – Wafic Saïd etc. – in a great tent. Discussion still dominated by Peter Savill’s bid to chair the BHB, which the Jockey Club is said to be still plotting against. Also chatted to the Parker Bowles, Sunny Marlborough and David Montague (sadly looking sick). Enjoyed most going to the parade ring with my son Paul and picking the horses. They looked magnificent for the Guineas and I chose the Irish talking horse, King of Kings. We got a generous 9–2 from the bookies and it trotted up. Nice to have Paul’s company and I want to encourage him to go racing more often.

Sunday 3 May 1998 At mass, Father Flanagan told us that in a Dublin taxi he saw a nice sign, ‘Smoking permitted; please do not jog.’ Only in Dublin. To neighbour Alan Godsall for an enjoyable country lunch with the Faringdons and Alan’s son and bright daughter-in-law. Had a private tour of their lovely house, with parts from every century since the Elizabethans. Wonderful rooms and many more books than I expected. Sometimes these country squires hide their cultural tastes under many a subsidised bushel. Actually, Alan is thinking of switching his crops to organic, which I encourage. Will be interesting for me to watch the conversion.

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Monday 4 May 1998 Anniversary weekend of the election victory and forming government. Blair so far a phenomenal success. I am pleased for our new lot, though still feel semi-detached. Partly because they write off our generation as Old Labour failures.

Tuesday 5 May 1998 Lunch at the Lords – I note I am the only minister who eats often on the common long table. Where do the other Lords ministers eat? I like to chat with the common mass of ordinary hereditary peers. At least before we eliminate them! A series of excellent meetings with Jack and other ministers plus officials in his stately room. He has, on my advice, acquired a clock, but it either doesn’t work or needs winding. Covered most of the strategic issues facing MAFF – Agenda 2000, agrimonetary compensation, Environment ­questions. Also clear we are facing more trouble from farmers over the effects of the strong pound. Demonstrations planned for the Council meeting next week in the North. The NFU always tell us to our faces that they deplore these things and have nothing to do with them, but then go back to organise them. I said we had to take a strategic decision as ministers. If we are going to concede, then must do it quickly and take credit. If not, must prepare the long fight. Worst of all is to talk tough at the beginning and capitulate later; or have our legs taken from beneath us by No. 10 telling farmers the PM loves them and will instruct us to pay up. I rely on the Treasury to stand firm. Anyway, Jack will write to Blair to warn that trouble is coming, so at least we show we are on the ball.

Wednesday 6 May 1998 Went to early Tate viewing of Bonnard exhibition. Lovely to do that quietly before the crowds rush in. Superb director, Nick Serota, came and chatted later and said he wished I was in the arts field with Chris Smith. View shared. The Bonnard was impressive in its scale, also in the way it developed from the early domestic scenes, many nudes in bath, with little garden views through window, to much bigger picture. Terrific one of a boxer, which is a self portrait, with the face carrying a career’s bruising. Struck that he was alive and still painting when I was ten. Somehow assume that all the famous painters were historic. Perhaps I am.

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Excellent meeting with officials on gangmasters. We are planning a crackdown and dawn raid early in June. But lots of problems getting the powers and resources, when we have no money and no time for legislation. Afterwards talk to David Montgomery and arrange for the Mirror to cover it as an exclusive. Went to lunch with an agrochemical firm with lots of horticulturists, mainly because Tory MP Robert Key invited me and I like him. My speech was boring as usual, and afterwards I told officials I won’t give one again in that area unless they can do better. Then a run of exhausting meetings on motley subjects – flood control, potatoes and organophosphates, which show the unwieldy range I have to cover. Impossible to be a master of all of them. The organophosphates meeting was bizarre. At Health, in Richmond House, chaired by Tessa Jowell, with Margaret Jay and a horde of officials. Soon clear that Tessa had not been briefed and didn’t know what it was about. When told it was the organophosphate report, she clearly hadn’t read it. Her officials were hopeless when called upon – and Grimley told me that when he spoke to them beforehand they had no grip at all. Margaret became irritated and asked who was chairing the meeting? The chief medical officer, Kenneth Calman, a diminutive Scot, clearly felt he was and began to tell us what we had to do. So it was shambolic and clear why they hadn’t responded to Jack’s letter of weeks ago about organophosphates. Tessa phoned me at home to ­apologise – admitted it was a shambles and said she was going today to ask her permanent secretary for a change of private secretary. Tessa is dashing around so much trying to do everything that she cannot have a proper grip of everything. Called in at the Press Complaints Commission party in the old County Hall aquarium. Dank and dingy place for a party. But appropriate. A huge water tank had swimming round in it what I first thought were Daily Mail journalists – but on closer inspection proved to be small sharks. I chatted with William Astor, who is just making millions from selling Cliveden to some foreign bidder. But then Murdoch arrived and I decided that was a signal for me to leave. He looks like an old walnut and clearly came because he appreciates that the PCC is a cover for all press misbehaviour and deep in the pockets of the press barons. I couldn’t find the way out, so I instinctively took a lift clearly marked ‘No exit’. It took me straight to the exit. Dashed home for a dinner party at Mijanou: Peter Savill, wonderful trainer Michael Stoute with Coral, who bravely came all the way from

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Newmarket, and Peter and Liz Jones from the Tote. Very racing. But I enjoyed it, especially Michael, who was in roaring good form.

Thursday 7 May 1998 Saw Jack on the way into the department and he told me his dinner with Cabinet Secretary Richard Wilson had been very good. But disappointing that Blair seems to be backing off the proposed new Ministry of Rural Affairs – probably scared of upsetting Prescott. Once we lose Jeff Rooker’s Food Safety to the new agency, MAFF will just be a farming rump and very boring. Front bench as usual, though with more bad news about three-line whips on four days a week and no ministerial rosters in the evening. (Later, Margaret Jay and I go to see the chief whip and try to persuade him to have rosters on two evenings a week, so at least giving us two evenings off.) Apparently we have a debate coming up on historic motor cars and I asked if it covered our ministerial Vauxhalls. Mo Mowlam came to the party meeting and gave a good survey of the current Irish situation. Seemed reasonably optimistic and we all gave her a cheer for her brave efforts there. But I was shocked by how old she looked. Has aged 10 years in the three years since I worked with her. Perhaps Mo is ill? I had the first PQ on the dreaded beef on the bone ban. Tom Stanley demanded the withdrawal of the ban and other Tories joined in, and I was a bit beleaguered. But I tried to keep it good-humoured. Tebbit boasted of eating a banned T-bone steak with his dog, so I told him we ‘awaited the consequences with anticipation’. The Tory front bench (through the charming Lady Anelay) launched an attack, so I read out the statement by former Tory minister Gillian Shephard totally advocating our ­precautionary viewpoint. My exchange with Tebbit was later on ‘Today in Parliament’. Two interviews with postgraduates asking about my political role in the 1970s and 1980s. Clever Greg Rosen from the Fabians and Dan Carrier, who I had known as a child and with whose father I ran four miles around Hampstead Heath each morning 20 years ago. His dad John has just passed his law exams, which is astonishing in his fifties. The whip rose before 7.00 pm as we cleared the Irish legislation without hitch – though beaten earlier on social security – and Maggie drove me home to the country. Still light when we arrived, with lovely spring smells and Honey ecstatic, trying to lick both Maggie and me at the same time.

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Friday 8 May 1998 Beautiful morning with a smell of summer ahead. Worked on diary. Trees all in leaf, birds lively and fields green with wheat plus yellow streaks of wild rape. Feels good.

Saturday 9 May 1998 Quiet day. Watched our horse, Lord Lieutenant, at Lingfield finish nearly last in big race.

Sunday 10 May 1998 Reluctantly off to Newcastle late morning. Hate to have my weekends disrupted. But the informal Agriculture Council mattered – and was a great success for us. Brilliantly organised. A rare MAFF triumph. The weather was awful, cold and grey and wet and at least 12 degrees cooler than in the South. But still fascinating. My first visit to Newcastle and Northumbria, which is certainly different. Early evening by bus to Durham for long visit to the magnificent cathedral. So massive and internally a curious mix of Gothic and Romanesque architecture. Small choir sang some lovely Handel, Vaughan Williams, Wesley and Tippett. Saw Venerable Bede’s fine memorial and then froze outside on the lawn, although issued with blankets, listening to march music of some territorial band. Musically enjoyable but not very militarily ferocious. I sat next to Loyola de Palacio from Spain. Can be severe, but really sweet and vulnerable beneath a dark surface. Dinner in the adjacent castle, where son Stephen was a graduate student. I sat next to a remote Finnish lady who appeared to know as little Finnish history as me. Must be a funny country, part Swedish, part Russian, part Eskimo, speaking a language nobody else understands. Supported the Germans in the war, mainly because they were the alternative to the Russians. Decent people, but far from the Mediterranean, and illustrates how the EU has spread too far and is impossible to unite. But would rather keep the straight Finns and lose the Mediterranean fraudsters. The amiable Bishop of Durham was at the table, looking unmistakably Anglican, decent, earnest, well-meaning – hoping to offend nobody.

Monday 11 May 1998 Off north early under grey skies and showers to visit Alnwick Castle, deep among the hills guarding the route to Scotland. The Duke of

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Northumberland has 100,000 acres, which is hardly typical of the kind of tough small farming we have come here to see. But can see how hard life is, exposed and cold, just for sheep, beef cattle and a few horses. Actually north of Copenhagen. Bleak villages, not for soft southerners like me. Lunch (all the Continentals happily eating our feared British beef) was in the stunning castle dining room. Toured the magnificent rooms, with lovely furniture and paintings (six Canalettos, some Tintorettos, and a whole range of classical European painting) and great views through the windows across the great walls to the hills beyond. Northumberland himself, looking Viking with his fair hair and hatchet face, was an excellent host; his wife pretty and friendly and full of some wonderful scheme for a great garden. I sat Loyola next to him and she appreciated lunching with a Duke. I sat with the dour Luxembourg minister, the relatively helpful French minister, de Poncet, and the wife of the grim German Bourchet. Made them eat English cheese, which they reluctantly conceded was good. Last night had a long chat with Liz Lloyd from the Number Ten Policy Unit on the bus to Durham. Warned me that the PM is not likely to support us in getting the Rural Affairs brief. Partly because afraid of upsetting Prescott at Environment. Partly because all the Green pressure groups have written to No. 10 opposing us as being too close to the farmers (there’s a joke), and New Labour doesn’t like to offend them, or indeed anybody. Quite a blow, because it removes our only hope of an interesting future. I pointed out that MAFF, after losing the Food Standards Agency next year, will become a small unviable rump  – and even more focused on the farmers since it will have lost the consumer side. She had no answer to that. I added that if we don’t get rural affairs, should get the horse as a consolation. (A draft memo from Jack to the PM on this was in my weekend box.) She didn’t react. Looks pretty bleak. I have little interest in being a minister just for shelling out massive CAP subsidies to farmers. Liz said No. 10 wants to be ‘inclusive’ of everybody, including the farmers. In fact inclusive means trying to please everybody by fudging everything. Bad for Jack. The press is still demanding he be sacked over banning beef on the bone (which is actually only 3 per cent of all beef sales). That is what No. 10 listens to. Yet two European ministers told me that Jack is the best British minister of agriculture they have seen in Brussels. No. 10 prefers to listen to the Evening Standard than to them. Dinner in the Newcastle civic hall. Our table told Jack that there was a qualified majority for him singing rather than giving his speech. In that personal sense this visit and the Presidency have been a great success.

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Again I went to bed early, just after midnight, whereas the others again to the bar till 3.00 am. I now reach the stage where I avoid the drinking heroics and prefer to wake fresh in the morning. Robin Cook’s marital troubles still all over the media. Cookie has not handled it well. His claims for an ethical foreign policy sit oddly with his colourful private life. Also, he is suffering from being a loner. He has few political friends – at the party conference he sits alone. Has spent his career never forming friendships, presumably not wanting to have the burden of loyal attachments. Now he has nobody to speak up for him or to nudge the media with his point of view. Certainly No. 10 is not doing that, intervening with a quite different approach and clearly leaving him to swing in the wind. Suits Blair to weaken an old party adversary, especially from Old Labour. Robin’s final problem is his snooty Foreign Office officials. They will see him as lower-class Labour, unlike posh Douglas Hurd, whom they went to school with. Also, they won’t forgive him for sacking Hurd’s Tory adviser and replacing her with his girlfriend. The FCO can be a nasty place, as David Owen found 20 years ago. Then, officials were briefing the media against him because he sacked the Washington ambassador and put in Peter Jay. They care about jobs. Much of the criticism is typical media piss and wind. But it will damage Cook, because it reveals how isolated he is from colleagues and from officials. Blair can now move and demote him whenever it suits him. There is no Cook political tribe to make trouble about that. But Cook is politically clever and is effective in the wider party, especially in Scotland, which is still unreconstructed Old Labour and un-Blairite, and could be a base for trouble.

Tuesday 12 May 1998 Went to Gosforth Park for a meeting of the Council. Met by well-behaved demonstration of farmers, whom Jack invited in to discuss when the beef ban lifted. The Council was going quite well, but then I heard I had to return to London for a three-line whip vote. Jack sent a personal appeal to Denis Carter for me to stay to host the lunch, but it was turned down. So I made a brief statement and apology and left for the airport. The plane was a propeller-and-rubber band item, and inevitably was half-hour late to Gatwick. Took train and rushed to Westminster. But in fact no vote till seven at night, and big majority, so all the fuss was ridiculous. This three-line whip business for ministers is becoming stupid. Because our whips have never been ministers and have no idea what the responsibilities are. At the moment, it is all done to satisfy the machismo of

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the whips in being able to boast to No. 10 that they have won all the votes. We ministers pay the price. Went to Racing and Bloodstock Committee for good George Howarth speech. Learned Peter Savill had won the BHB chairmanship. Pleased me, though he will have a difficult time and won’t get much support from government. Sarah came in to supper at the Lords and we chatted with Margaret Jay and doctor husband Mike. I am starting to think that Margaret should be our Lords leader.

Wednesday 13 May 1998 Walked Honey through St James’s Park to the office, which she loved, chasing the pigeons and squirrels. Met David Owen in the park – just where, 20 years ago, we walked and talked when he was foreign secretary and me at No. 10. He felt Cook is ‘being done over’ because ‘his foreign ethical policy’ conflicts with his private morality. Also that FCO officials are ‘the most vicious in Whitehall’. David’s main political cause now is ‘to stop Euroland’. Says it is producing a new Greater Germany, with a German minister of finance and a subservient French foreign minister and it ‘will run Europe and do so contrary to Britain’s interests’. He thinks we should stay out of the European Monetary Union and said that my main task now should be ‘to devise an alternative monetary strategy’ to the EMU. He obviously would like to get back into politics with a big cause, seeking always to be a leader. But he added significantly: ‘I must find a way to do this without joining up with all these terrible people who are currently the Eurosceptics’. David is always interesting and politically creative. Prepared for my two PQs. Actually both went well. First to Margaret Mar on the old faithful of organophosphates, where I am as sympathetic as possible. Then to a Tory about the recent terrible floods in the Midlands. Felt much better after all that. Had nice tea with old friend Mike Buswell from Towcester. I reported to Jack on the Liz Lloyd conversation in Durham – that we won’t get Rural Affairs. He seemed quite depressed, especially since it derives from half-a-dozen letters from batty Green Guardian pressure groups. Jack looked the most fed up I have ever seen him. Dashed home to change to go to the birthday dinner of Sarah’s sister Susan in St John’s Wood. Hilarious beginning. When we entered the dining room, Honey was sitting, upright adult-style, on one of the dinner table

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chairs, enjoying the Parma ham from a plate, of course leaving the melon merely licked. She had already finished off five plates this way, moving elegantly sideways from chair to chair. Fortunately, the kitchen had reserves. We could not get angry with her, everyone roaring with laughter at her great style.

Thursday 14 May 1998 Barry White, Unionist adviser, came in to brief me. He had left me a telephone message overnight that things were not going well for Trimble and the Referendum Yes campaign. He is tall, craggy, remarkably mature and with a wonderfully incomprehensible Ulster accent. Told me that the Ulster Unionist dissidents had presented their letter to Trimble saying they will vote No, but he effectively dismissed it. Now they are completely split, united only in hostility to Trimble, who Barry thinks won’t survive. Thinks there will be a Yes majority in next Friday’s referendum, but real threat is that Unionists may themselves have a majority against. Official Unionism is in decline – Paisley and Irvine on rise. Molyneux and Donaldson have been in regular contact with Blair, who is trying to hold them together, but both of them are privately No men. Molyneux saw Mo Mowlam and reported she was getting jumpy about the outcome. The issue that has shaken the Ulster Unionists is the release of IRA terrorists by Dublin. I sympathise with them on that. All the murderers we have spent years bringing to book are now released jubilantly onto the streets. We were defeated on a vote over fishing quotas. The Tories brought in Thatcher and Whitelaw and dozens of unknown hereditaries. Ironic since it was under Thatcher that we negotiated the terrible fishing policy and under her that the quotas were sold or even given away to the Spaniards. Reform of the Lords becomes daily more necessary. Waiting in the Library for the whip to be lifted, I chatted with Clive Hollick, who told me he had talked with Blair about a reshuffle. Wanted to do it next week, but ‘still hadn’t got his head round it’. Would ‘love to get rid of Ivor Richard but might not do it this time. Otherwise would be very limited reshuffle.’ Jack ‘might be moved but kept in the Cabinet.’ Not good for me that. Said what they disliked about Ivor, apart from his being too Old Labour, was his constant ‘bleating about his pay and rations’. But they obviously have no idea how good Ivor is in the Chamber. Or how good Jack is in Europe. In fact, the careers of Labour politicians outside the inner gang are ­determined not from any actual No. 10 knowledge of how they perform

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in the ministry or in the Lords (even the Commons, as Blair never goes there except for his own Questions), but on media comment, much of it ignorant. Only pleasant media item is an amusing letter from the Catholic mistress of journalist Paul Johnson, complaining that for years he has been lecturing us all on our immorality and gave great publicity to his own sacred marriage celebrations, while pausing only to knock her off on the side. Johnson is actually better than many journos, because he can actually write well and has good knowledge of history and the arts. But is still a humbug on sex.

Friday 15 May 1998 Woke to a gorgeous day, heat and trees and shrubs rich with foliage after recent rains. Lay in the garden reading Julius Caesar and watching the ducks parading to the ponds. Perfect day.

Saturday 16 May 1998 Again glorious weather. Took Honey to an Oxford dog show. Hoped to race her because she is very quick and seems to have a strain of whippet. But she decided she didn’t like all the noise and crept cowardly back into the car.

Sunday 17 May 1998 Nice mass except that Father Flanagan revealed he was not feeling too well – ‘struggling a bit’ – and actually asked us to include him in our prayers. My prayer list for lost friends is getting longer. All better people than me. All leaving pleasant and sad memories and holes that cannot be filled – I don’t in my sixties make many new friends, just lose old ones. So phone my shrinking network to make sure all are well: Nori and Celia, Rachel and Kate and Paul and Stephen, Graham and Joe. That is my regular list – though don’t get them all. Will need them when this ministerial nonsense comes to an end; though it is less oppressive lately, now I am preventing them loading my diary and have given up hope of achieving anything in policy terms, so less frustrated by the inertia of the department. Go out to lunch with Jane Stevens near Abingdon. Lovely old house by a stream, trees flowing with creepers and flowers, Pimms on the lawn, all old Oxford. Super day and feeling very good on it.

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Monday 18 May 1998 Another glorious hot day with the countryside looking rich, carpets of bluebells in the nearby woods and the birds very active on the ponds. But back to the horrors on the M4 going into London. Traffic jammed and backed up for 12 miles. We finally discovered why. Two workmen at the Hogarth roundabout were slowly treading in red tiles at the side of the road. Red cones everywhere and must have cost the country a million pounds in delays. This is where the British are utterly incompetent – in this kind of public infrastructure mismanagement. Wish I were in Transport and could sack the boss of the Highways Agency as well as most of the ministry. But really know it is just like MAFF and everywhere else. Changing the chairs would make no difference. The French do infrastructure much better. So arrive late and angry at Smith Square and blow up poor Grimley. At teatime, dropped in on Jack with Jeff to natter about various MAFF issues. Jack was due to see Blair about our problems, but No. 10 called it off at the last minute because of his Irish involvement: he is visiting Ulster almost daily to join in the referendum campaign and, if we rescue it, that will be partly due to his efforts. This is his good side – a willingness to focus on the big issues and give everything to them. Downside is that he has lost interest in making us the Ministry of Rural Affairs. So even more important we get the Horse. On this I cleared a minute for Jack to send to No. 10 and I also arranged a delegation from the recreation horse societies. They are keen for me to take it over. Grimley brought me a curious memo from Packer to his senior officials saying that my recent Irish visit had been a disaster – which he defined as me not having proper briefing because I did not take officials with me. True, I didn’t have MAFF briefing, but it didn’t really matter, and wouldn’t have been any better with officials, since they had failed to enquire what the Irish wanted to discuss. It was really about ministers not being allowed to go anywhere without officials. Grimley admitted he had spoken to Packer about it. So I gave him a rocket and then wrote a sharp memo to Packer, saying I didn’t need officials and I would decide if I were to be accompanied. Had supper in the Home dining room with Joyce Anelay, technically my Tory enemy across the dispatch box, but very good company and open with me. Then our debate on CAP Reform started at 10 o’clock. I did not rise to reply till nearly half-past-midnight. There were 16 mainly good speeches but I was exhausted and had difficulty concentrating on every small point. What is the purpose of all this? Nobody outside the chamber has the least idea what anybody in there has said. Did not get to bed till half-past-one.

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Tuesday 19 May 1998 Up blearily early to give a breakfast speech at the International Milling Conference. Afterwards walked back home through Green Park in the morning heat haze to try to clear my head and get some exercise. Cleared some papers at home and then off again to big reception by Michael Heseltine to celebrate his magazine group. Chatted to him, looking bronzed and well out of office. He said ‘You are the only member of the Enemy here.’ Lunch with Food From Britain and a group of impressive food distributors. They have built one of the most efficient distribution systems in Europe, but find our small food producers don’t use them to find new export markets – the old story. Whips let me go at 11.15 pm because I had been up so late the night before. The rest of the poor devils were kept there till after 3.00 in the morning – and there wasn’t a vote, as we all knew there wouldn’t be. I actually slipped round to the Turf Club in Carlton Terrace and joined Peter Savill’s celebration dinner. All his racing chums there in very good form and fairly sloshed. Peter Oborne, the impressive young Express lobby journalist, also there. Said he thought Blair’s neglect of the Commons would damage him in the end. I said he would know better than me, since the journalists knew Blair better than his political colleagues did. Home just before 1.00 am. Like a zombie.

Wednesday 20 May 1998 Early ministerial meeting. Bad news on beef-on-the-bone, where our legal case is going wrong, mainly because MAFF failed to consult sufficiently. Also raised Frank Field’s letter to the PM. He had met five farmers in Devon who had complained to him and said they felt like committing suicide. Frank is famously receptive to anecdotal conversations and has written to the PM demanding that our whole agricultural policy be changed accordingly. Don’t oppose that in principle and Frank is normally very good, but this suggests he must be under-employed. Dashed off to catch a Paddington train to Tiverton, Devon, to open a new agricultural centre. Wonderful day and nice people. Good meeting with a rural liaison group, including a local bank manager and policewoman. Then back on hot and inevitably late train. Quick change at home and off with Sarah to the Savoy to dinner with our friend singer-actor Adam Faith. He is as sparky and funny as ever – full of schemes – for a new TV series about Formula One motor racing,

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where tiny Adam will play boss-man Bernie Ecclestone (stroke of genius, that casting). He was accompanied by a delightful young lady from HM Treasury, Louise  Pollock. Works in international finance for my old friend Nigel Wicks and for Helen Liddell. A terrific evening, which picked me up from my exhaustion.

Thursday 21 May 1998 Again in early for an excellent presentation on risk assessment. Apparently we have a good unit specialising on this that has been tucked away for years and ignored. We could have done with them on beef on the bone. They make the critical point that there is a stage of risk management that should come after the scientific risk analysis and before the political decisions. We have so far jumped that one. And then should come risk communication, at which we have been very bad. In Lords I saw Liz Symons, our Lords FCO minister, who is the only one to have come out of the Sierra Leone crisis well. She is worried about the state of the Foreign Office, which she says is in a shambles. She is a very punchy girl, a possible long-term Leader of the Lords. Lunch with Margaret Jay and Tessa Blackstone, the two leading contenders to be successors to Ivor Richard. Tessa was shattered by her 3.00 am Wednesday morning session. But we cheered up, joking about our departments. Margaret had a lovely story about Frank Dobson pretending to be kerb crawling when she was waiting at a bus stop, leaning out of the car window and saying ‘Want a good time, luv’? Also he told a shocked and prissy health delegation his latest Australian story: how the Australian version of sexual foreplay was to say ‘Brace yourself, Sheila’. Frank is obviously quite a character and I certainly came to like him more today. At our risk meeting, when they raised the possibility of having to kill all the TB badgers, he stroked his long beard and said, ‘Well, that is attractive to those of you who need shaving brushes.’ Saw Jim Callaghan and Ralf Dahrendorf. Latter told me he had been to LSE for a seminar led by sociologist Anthony Giddens on the Third Way, Blair’s shallow new concept to explain the philosophy behind New Labour, as it is no longer socialist and he dare not admit that it is really very free-market conservative. Ralf said the discussion was astonishingly ignorant of history. They looked very worried when he pointed out that the concept of the Third Way had often been used before, not least by unpleasant Moseley, Mussolini and Tito. None of them knew this. As Joe and I spotted long ago, New Labour (like many academic sociologists)

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knows no history, or at least for them, history began when they took power in 1994. Ralf, who is always very interesting, also pointed out that David Owen has much in common with Joe Chamberlain, especially in his capacity to take Messianic positions and split parties. But he currently lacks an issue, such as Chamberlain’s Empire, which he can hold on to through all the switches of party. Also lacks that Birmingham power base. So David is a leadership personality looking for people to lead and an issue to lead them on – hence what he told me about fighting against ‘Euroland’. David told Ralf that he has never voted in the Lords and doesn’t know where to sit when he comes here. No tribal affiliations. A weakness under our system. But he is really very able and intellectually creative and he should have stayed with Labour and helped lead the New Labour campaign. He has more intelligence and substance than Blair. Went for coffee with Jim Molyneux, who told me about his talks with Blair and his and Donaldson’s own position. He says he is voting No in their Ulster referendum order to retain his locus and influence with the Orange No people. If he voted Yes, then he would be linked with Trimble and the extreme Orange lot would move under the leadership of the awful Paisley or Ross. Then he can influence and lead them sensibly in the situation afterwards. This seemed plausible, though I don’t know if it is completely true. Jim also doesn’t like the Agreement settlement and prefers a more modest assembly on the Welsh model. I sensed he is joining with Donaldson in the latter’s leadership campaign. The two of them are probably working this together, so distinct from Trimble but not linking with the Ross nutters. I suspect Jim is quite devious – has to be to have survived so long in Ulster politics – but I find him engaging and very shrewd, certainly a mile ahead of most of the others. Described himself as ‘Old Labour’ – why Callaghan and I get on well with him. Saw Mo Mowlam in the corridor and she sat down for a talk about Ireland – looking very old and tired. Said a vote of 67 per cent for the Yes in tomorrow’s referendum ‘would be heaven’. Said Trimble ‘is hopeless’. She attacked Molyneux and Donaldson; said Blair very angry with them for letting him down after he had spent a lot of time working on them. I explained they had their own agenda and described Molyneux’s alleged strategy. She said, ‘Well if that is true, it does make some sense.’ I was struck by how she did not seem to be fully on board with the Unionist position. Probably not sympathetic. Told me that Gerry  Adams ‘had been a very good pussycat while Blair has been trying to keep the Unionists on board’. Murderous pussycat! Mo is really a Green Republican at heart.

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As we walked back to the Commons together, she said, ‘The next three months after the referendum will be hell,’ because the commitments that Tony has given to each side to keep them on board are incompatible. And impossible to deliver them all. She asked me to help with Molyneux and the Unionists ‘to keep them on side’. Not sure I have that much influence. Finally away to Westminster Cathedral for a wonderful Ascension Day mass. New music by Roxanna Panufnik, Camilla’s brilliant daughter. Beautiful. Cardinal Hume held the mass. Cathedral full, me sitting in the front-row-centre aisle. My first communion at the cathedral. Charles Moore, very able editor of the Telegraph, next door and Paul Johnson in the corner with his wife, clearly unembarrassed by his recent exposure as adulterer. I suspect it helps being a journalist and hence no shame – and a Catholic, where all can be forgiven. Afterwards head for the country. Need to recharge batteries after quite a week.

Friday 22 May 1998 In fact woke and rose at 6.45 am. News from the Northern Ireland referendum is of very high voting there, a lot of them probably voting early and often. Preparing to go to France tomorrow – and the irritating visit to Brussels on Monday and Tuesday. Too much travel. Clive Hollick phoned me in the afternoon to say Axel Springer is out to buy the Mirror so need to hurry his talks with Montgomery. I promise to mediate. Putting the only mass Labour paper in right-wing German hands is possible only because of Blair’s craven attitude to Murdoch at the time of the 1996 broadcasting bill, when he would not support me in attacking the Tory 20 per cent-ownership rule, which was devised to protect Murdoch and restrain the Mirror. Now, while Brits cannot buy it, foreigners like Murdoch and the Germans could. Odd to be back in the newspaper game again.

Saturday 23 May 1998 Between packing for France and playing tennis, I phone David Montgomery twice in France and Clive twice in the New Forest. Clive has talked to Alastair Campbell and told him the PM better be interested or our only Labour newspaper will be in right-wing German hands. I finally arrange for David to phone Clive sometime in the day and then pop off to Gatwick. Honey was very unhappy as she watched us pack. We will find it hard to leave her behind again. Roll on the change in the quarantine laws. Am pressing on that.

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Sorry to leave England on such an exciting day. Today we have the Irish referendum; the Irish 1000 and 2000 Guineas; Northampton Saints playing at Wembley in the second-division playoffs; and the second one-day test against South Africa (who are likely to screw our pedestrians again). In future will stay in England and just go to Cornwall. The French enterprise has perhaps run its course. Heard the Northern Ireland referendum result in Gatwick lounge waiting for the plane to Perpignan. 72 per cent Yes and 28 per cent No in the North. Great 94 per cent Yes in the Republic. So tremendous approval and personal triumph for Blair, who took personal control and fought every inch. But the antis are already preparing to oppose in the Assembly elections, trying to bring the edifice down there. Easy flight and quick car to Céret. Listened to the World Service on my ancient Russian military short-wave radio; constant coverage of Ulster. Result clearly better than anyone dared expect.

Monday 25 May 1998 Reluctantly left breakfast on our sunny terrace to fly to Brussels: into the Council by 3.00 pm. Saw Jack beforehand. He apologised for bringing me all this way just to go through the rituals of reading out all our familiar positions on CAP reform. In the evening, first to a Meat and Livestock reception with nice Don Currie. Then to a Magritte exhibition in the big museum. Some stunning space images. Back to the hotel for a whisky and cigar with Jack and John Sewel, the Scottish minister. We had a collective moan about how No. 10 was a control freak, not trusting ministers to get on with their business, although many had more experience than anyone in No. 10. But when it goes wrong politically because of these constraints, the ministers are left to carry the can. Sewel is strongly anti-Blair, and predicts he will go wrong in the end ‘because it is all froth and no substance’. And because there is no attempt to build support in the party, especially in the PLP. When it goes wrong he will be left alone. Jack said, ‘He talks of inclusivity, meaning including everybody, the Tories, the farmers who will never vote for him, but not including his Labour colleagues.’ Jack told us that last Thursday, after PX committee, Blair went to Ulster to campaign and said there was no need for a Cabinet (there never is really, since nothing important is put to Cabinet). But Prescott insisted on holding and chairing a Cabinet, claiming Blair had asked him to, but in fact he had done no such thing. Just for his ego, to say he had chaired the Cabinet.

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He said Blair is now backing off not only from having a Ministry of Rural Affairs but also from moving Packer. No. 10 seems afraid to grasp any nettles at all. Jack and John have little respect for them on this count, because they want to be loved by everyone. Politics doesn’t work that way in the long-run. You have to disappoint people and make enemies. The art is in making the right enemies.

Tuesday 26 May 1998 We were scheduled to start our Council meeting at 9.00 am, but I was the only minister there then, not even Jack as chairman. The French had particularly asked for a 9 o’clock start – but didn’t roll in until half-past. I bailed out an hour later, with little left on the agenda and nothing for the UK to say on any item. I put Packer in my seat. Our officials were very keen not to put Sewel there, since they feel the Scots are too pushy to take over the UK anyway. Incidentally, yesterday, the German minister, in his long speech, said the Germans had two priorities: first to reduce expenditure, and second to ensure that all farmers got full compensation for all and any changes we made to the agricultural regime. No recognition that there might be some contradiction here. The Mediterraneans made it clear that they would support any changes providing they got more subsidy. The Spaniards that they had one sticking point, that they should be able to continue to rip off the olive oil regime. The French made an opaque statement that would have required an old-time Kremlinologist to interpret. The general consensus was that it was a disguised retreat from the partial liberalism of the previous position to one of unreconstructed protectionism, typical of the new-old socialist – Jospin regime. Not encouraging. After two tedious flights – the French insist everyone changes at Paris so they can collect double landing charges – I was back in Céret for tea on the terrace, reading O’Brian under grey skies looking at Canigou.

Wednesday 27 May 1998 Grey, windy and so cool that I lit the log fire. Finished the terrific O’Brian. Wonderful descriptions of the South Atlantic and life on a sailing ship at that time. Then started a PD James, An Unsuitable Job for a Woman.

Thursday 28 May 1998 Again grey and cold. Céret depends on sunshine, otherwise the mountains lower and make us depressed. Then read the PD James, touched with

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too much evil for my taste, but gripping and fine story-telling. Went for dinner with some French from nearby Collioure. Exciting that they know Patrick O’Brian, who also lives in Collioure. They offer to arrange a dinner with him in the summer. They say he is fantastic, very private and a walking encyclopaedia. The two Frenchmen loathe the way the EU has eclipsed all the old French identity.

Friday 29 May 1998 Woke to lovely sunshine at last. Read Josephine Hart’s Sin. Sparely written and much more creatively powerful than I expected. We drove to lovely La Racou for a delicious lunch looking over the sea, littered with sailing boats scudding before the strong breeze.

Saturday 30 May 1998 Went to the market, all colourful and decorated for the festival of c­ herries. Thought about the unsatisfactory nature of public life in Britain. Maligned by the media, not respected by the public and deeply underpaid. The latter wouldn’t matter if the former experience were more satisfactory. The t­radition of public service is already fading in Britain – as one sees in teaching, now just a job – and in Law, though not yet in the Health Service, thank God. In politics it will fade fast. None of my children want to go into public life. And one sees in Westminster the people coming in who like ­self-publicity, however bad. Fortunately I am near the end. Must be ­depressing for those in mid-career, committed to public service, but nobody else appreciating its values. The country is poorer for it. Easy flight back from Perpignan in the evening and drove home from Gatwick in 50 minutes. Lovely reception from Honey, who came to sit on my bed, wagging her tail while I unpacked.

Sunday 31 May 1998 Wrote up this French diary. Quiet day and phoned the children and friends. England has all I need. Lovely country, now increasingly good food, my family and friends, books here at Fox’s Walk and theatre/opera/politics in London. Enough.

Monday 1 June 1998 Went up for buffet and discussion with our agriculture advisory group. Some deep issues raised, including whether ANY British farmers can make

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a profit without subsidy in a free market of world prices; certainly, most Europeans cannot. And how long a period of readjustment is needed – probably 15 years, well beyond our time. Many bankrupt in the meantime. Had to leave for a discussion of our handling of the pesticides bill committee stage. My office had forgotten to tell me the bill is tomorrow and gave me no briefing for the meeting, so it was a shambles. Then stuck in the Lords until 1.15 in the morning while Tory battleaxe Emily Blatch, looking like a little tub of acid, dragged out the education bill in an appalling filibuster. Stretched each amendment for hours and on one she spoke five times, breaking all the conventions of the House. This is appalling for ministers to be locked in the chamber all hours and then have to do their ministerial job. The Lords must be reformed. We have only a hundred votes while the Tories have 500. So we cannot pair or be away at any time. The Tories have finally converted me to abolishing the hereditary peers, something I used to oppose.

Tuesday 2 June 1998 Did a funny interview with Labour MP Austin Mitchell, who is putting together a book on reform of the House of Lords. Odd to think that nearly 40 years ago we were together at Oxford as Namierite research historians studying the eighteenth century. We have both ended up far away from that. He should have progressed in politics but was never willing to accept the tribal disciplines or to restrain the temptation to clown for the media. Earlier, I gave my private office a rocket. Things slipping badly. I did not have any briefing for the Pesticides meeting. Yesterday I did not receive the long paper for the Advisory meeting until two hours beforehand and ditto for the Environment meeting. Also the visits to the organics farm have still not materialised, nor has the meeting on co-ops that I asked for six months ago. There has been no follow-up to the meeting on transfer technology months ago. Nothing ever happens. MAFF has aspects of Fawlty Towers. Even more of Yes Minister. Peter and Simon looked glum when I rocketed them. I imagine there is little they can do about it. Ann Mallalieu told me that Blair held a Sunday lunch at Chequers. Penny Mortimer went, together with Philip Gould the spin doctor and other social friends. Blair told Penny he was anti the Foster hunting bill and hoped to kill it. Apparently, wife Cherie is very politically correct and has banned all smoking in Chequers. Penny is addicted and so after lunch in the garden she asked if she could smoke. Cherie looked troubled and said, ‘OK, but just one’ – this was outside!

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Jack told me that although a Cabinet minister he has never been invited socially to No. 10, nor to Chequers. When the Emperor of Japan went to visit an organic farm, he was accompanied by a junior Foreign Office minister but not accompanied by any Agriculture ministers, who are responsible for organic farming. It is a closed circle in there.

Wednesday 3 June 1998 Clive Hollick and David Montgomery arrived at my London home in Ebury Mews in great black chauffered cars at 8.30 am to discuss the future of the Mirror and Express newspapers and whether any kind of merger is possible. I left them to talk, going upstairs to clear some papers. I could hear them, mainly led by Clive. The conversation moved sensibly from the general state of the British media to the particular of whether they could put together a deal that would keep the Mirror out of the hands of the German Springer predators. It sounded friendly, with Clive clearly out to bury any past enmities and get onto a more constructive basis. I felt pleased, hoping to have prepared the way for preserving the last British-owned newspapers supporting the Labour Party. In for a meeting with Packer about my Irish visit. Really he was trying to block me ever going abroad on any visit without officials present. I said I understood the reason for usually having officials, since it protected ministers as well as keeping the machine informed and in control. But I said the Irish visit was special, arranged by Joe Walsh and me, and if I wanted to go alone again I would. He looked uncomfortable. Lunch with Peter Riddell, a journalist I feel I can trust. He is decent and avuncular, interested in the serious issues of politics and the working of government, not just the gossip and headline trivia. Peter said perceptively that Blair is not interested in his colleagues’ careers. He has landed at the top with little effort and never worked in a career structure. So unaware of the career concerns of colleagues. We also deduced that Blair is almost unique in modern prime ministers in that he is not interested in the economy, nor in Parliament, nor in the working of the Whitehall machine. Jim and Harold were interested in all three. Eden was the last PM not interested in these key policy areas and he ended in disaster. Peter thinks things will go wrong for Blair in the end. Probably the economy will turn sour. Then Blair will find he has no support in the Party since he had never cultivated any. All derives from his presidential approach, which provides his present strengths and his future weaknesses.

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We also questioned how he could do a proper reshuffle when he knows so little of his colleagues, whether they are doing well or badly in their departments or in Parliament. He only knows of their media images – which is bad for Jack. Peter said he has had four long private meetings with Blair – ­probably more than any Cabinet colleague except Brown. Has also been offered phone calls with him. That is modern prime ministerial access: offered to the media but not often to ministers. Tea with Margaret Jay. Yesterday she had a meeting with Blair on the Health Service. She said he is not interested in the detail of policy. When she pointed out that they faced a battle with the nurses that governments can never win, he looked blank and indicated that was a problem for the Chancellor. Talking of her father she said Jim is very insecure and needs constant reassurance and support – so ‘he liked the vomit-making Welsh sycophancy’. Hence he was and is very dependent on his wife Audrey’s unquestioning support, though she is now fading and would rather spend her final days on the farm than following him around his political circuit. Afterwards I had an important meeting with the NFU and the TGWU about ‘gangmasters’, where next week we are launching a big attack. We have to get them all aboard. Sarah drove me out to Angus Ogilvy and Princess Alexandra’s house at Richmond Park, a lovely grace-and-favour lodge in a wonderful position with fabulous views reminding me of eighteenth-century paintings. The garden was at its peak. We were late as usual, but the sitting rooms were still packed with London’s social establishment. I chatted with Antony Acland, who I knew in the Foreign Office but now runs Eton; to Henrietta Dunne and Jeannie Carnarvon; to Francis Dashwood; and various others who wanted me to do more for the farmers. Delightful Lady Rees-Mogg told me she has just become a Tory councillor in Westminster, bravely following in the path of dubious Dame Shirley Porter. Husband William defended his article describing Mandelson as ‘Goebbels’, while I pointed out this was not the most apt way of referring to someone who is half-Jewish, since Goebbels was totally committed to killing them all. William looked perplexed at that. Ted Heath approached me, smiled and shook my hand in a friendly way, so I concluded he must be losing his marbles, since he has snubbed me on at least a hundred occasions in the past. Afterwards chatted to Angus, who is excessively grateful for my helping him with his successful youth business scheme. We drove back to a delicious supper at the Gran Paradiso. John Wakeham was there and said he was not going to the Derby – ‘I don’t want to see all

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those awful racing people’ (who recently sacked him from the BHB). Very tired to bed.

Thursday 4 June 1998 The front-bench meeting was drab as ever, just next week’s agenda and ­confirming that now we have to stay late on the division roster two nights a week. We were defeated again on Education and then I slipped away to fly to Cornwall. Funny old propeller plane – a Dash 6, very noisy. But nice to arrive at a tiny airport and just walk off the plane and into the fields with strong scent of hay and wild flowers. Landing, could see Padstow and the coast around Port Isaac, very lovely in the sunset. The regional official ­collecting me said the farmers are complaining that I don’t go to enough country shows. Well too bad. I really enjoy them, had three shows fixed this month, but had to pull out because of the Lords whips. Drove through the Cornish evening to the Headlands Hotel on the hill above Port Isaac. Had a tasty supper of mussels and then fried fish. Nice to go to sleep with the sound of gulls and waves.

Friday 5 June 1998 Woke early with bright sun glinting on the sea and lovely North Cornwall cliffs. Went on down into the port and bought a couple of fresh lobsters and a dressed crab for supper tonight. Then the car and three civil servants whisked me off to the Royal Cornwall show. Lovely occasion, a real farming show, not just the county glitterati of Bath or the Royal at Stoneleigh. Loved it. I toured some of the tents. Was manoeuvred into a tiny demonstration by some agricultural banner-wavers. Then sat and listened to the NFU go round the table with their well-rehearsed whinges (I switch off completely when a local farmer with 400 acres does a tear-jerker, and then admits he could sell it for nearly a million and then retire for the rest of his life). Lunch with the show president, who is a decent sort, fought in the war, with a classic county wife with one of those big blue hats which I have never seen outside of these shows. Then particularly attractive was the galloping parade of shire horses and wagons. It will be sad if farming so changes that they disappear. Three-and-a-half hours on the train to Reading, with the clouds and rain catching up from the west. Exhausting but a really enjoyable visit. The pity is that our three-line whip situation stops me from going on more of these

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regional visits. It is refreshing to get out of Westminster and Whitehall and see the situation on the ground, where I like many of the locals. Obviously we are not very popular with them. But they are nearly all Tories so we must expect that. Nothing we did would ever be enough. My box of papers in the train shows that MAFF things are not going too well. Jack wasn’t able to raise with Blair the issue of us becoming the Ministry of the Horse. News from Brussels is of further delays to lifting the beef ban. And the news on the spreading TB front is not good. The badgers are causing it, but it will be five years before we have the evidence ­justifying a massive badger cull, which will spark violence among the badger ­worshippers, like Elliot Morley. Meanwhile the TB will get worse and the Europeans will have an excuse to replace our beef ban with a ban on dairy products, again suiting their economic interests. It certainly is a no-win ministry.

Saturday 6 June 1998 Derby day, cleared into a glorious afternoon. Big crowd and the Epsom Hill, full of the fair and masses of buses, just like long ago. Great Welsh choir and the Gurkhas marching and playing the bagpipes like genuine Scotsmen. The Queen arrived with a very aged team, led by the Queen Mum at 98, and lots of walking sticks behind. Our lunch was in the big Derby room. Sat with Peter Savill (plotting the next stage in our racing plan). Sarah backed three winners on looks and name – as good as any other system. The Derby itself was fascinating. At least eight class horses – none of which quite stayed. So solid High Rise won at 20–1. But so exciting watching them sweep down the hill and a terrific close finish. We left immediately to miss the jams and were home, lying outside in the sun, by 5.30 pm.

Sunday 7 June 1998 Long talk to Joe Haines, who has now completed 15,000 words about his time in No. 10, including all the dynamite he left out last time. He is afraid it will precipitate fresh attacks on him and asked me to read it with that in view. I will do so, though he has an obligation to history to tell the awful truth. Realise I am more on top of the job now and finding it less stressful. Partly because I accept there is little I can achieve and little difference I can make, however I try. The department is a great soggy mass of inertia. It is

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probably cleverer to do what the Tory ministers did – which is, as Grimley pointed out, and advised me, to travel around the country, visiting ­beautiful farms and nice county shows, while leaving the officials to take all of the decisions, most of which are deciding to do nothing. That way everybody is happy. My naiveté was to think that, as new ministers, we could make a difference. Virtually all my initiatives have come to nothing, bogged in the bureaucratic marsh. It is certainly easier for me to leave it that way – and quietly depart, leaving the next innocent to arrive and have his or her ­delusions smashed. Being an adviser to Yes Prime Minister should have ­prepared me for that.

Monday 8 June 1998 Spent the morning revising my draft memo to Gordon Brown on red diesel, where he should be able to save half-a-billion pounds from an outdated concession to farmers, contractors and even train diesels; they pay virtually no tax on their diesel under a 1935 concession. Had an early lunch and then off to London to prepare for the gangmasters bust. Gave an advance interview to ‘Farming Today’ on tomorrow’s launch and raid, since the man who does it, John Harvey, is reassuringly reliable and honest. Met Adam Faith’s impressive friend Louise Pollock from the Treasury in our division corridor. She had been servicing a Question and told me she was stunned how testing it was; said nobody in the Treasury had the least idea that Lords Questions were as hard as this and she would alter their approach to briefing from now on. Drinks with Andrew Higgins, who reported to me on progress on the dog quarantine committee. They will recommend phased reform – but only from 2000. Poor Honey will have to be patient! Also that there had been a big meeting last week from which I had been excluded – presumably because I am identified as strongly pro-reform. I was again stuck in the Lords till nearly midnight by a three-line whip and Emily Blatch’s obsessive filibuster on education against Tessa Blackstone. Took Ann Mallalieu to supper. She thinks Jack and I should be more openly sympathetic to the farmers and then we might get away with more. Probably right as she usually is. Later, Denis Carter told me Blair’s next honours list is indeed full of glitterati who won’t turn up to work. Very few solid Labour people. All the suggestions from the chief whip have been ignored, while there are more ex-SDP folk. Denis says ‘they are totally opposed’ to anybody they see as Old Labour, or recommended by Old

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Labour, and the biggest group of new peers are personal friends of No. 10 advisers. This government doesn’t suffer the corruption which Wilson did, but it is certainly riddled with cronyism. Had a chat with Margaret Jay, who always sits with me to grumble our way through these late nights in parliamentary prison. She told me that Blair is resisting the pressure from Chris Bland and John Birt to make her deputy chairman of the BBC. Blair told her he has ‘something else in mind for her’ – presumably our leadership in the Lords when he chops Ivor Richard.

Tuesday 9 June 1998 Had my first big press conference on our plans to bust the criminal gangmasters who employ and exploit illegal immigrants and people on benefits as temporary summer farm labour. Went very well with a large audience and a good range of questions. The present No. 10 sounds more and more like a Medici Court (and similar to Harold Wilson’s early kitchen cabinet). With everybody fighting for Tony’s ear. Apparently he views this circus with detached amusement. But he is clearly not interested in the process of government. ‘He is just a great performer,’ said Denis, who attends Cabinet and hears all the whips’ gossip from No. 10. He is a useful source to me, on the Catholic network.

Wednesday 10 June 1998 In at 9.00 am for an excellent two hours of ministerial discussion. Badgers spreading TB is getting a big issue and was raised with me in the South-West, where the farmers will soon start shooting them. Jack also reported on his last-Thursday visit to Blair at No. 10 to discuss ‘six issues worrying the PM’. This meeting was friendly but quite alarming. First issue was the Food Standards Agency. Blair said he was worried about the costs and all the fuss about food safety. He enquired why Jack was making such a big thing of the FSA and suggested he ‘put it on a back burner and put it under some retired lieutenant general’. Jack was astonished and pointed out that it had all been presented to him as Blair’s idea in the first place; that Tony had personally commissioned the report on it from Professor James; and had received it on TV before the election and announced it would be one of his government’s priorities. Blair had initiated and publicised it and committed us on it. Jack wasn’t even involved in MAFF then. He had merely inherited it and carried out his prime-ministerial instructions. Now the Prime Minister found it was a bit prickly and seemed to suppress all memory of it.

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On to the beef on the bone ban, where Blair said he didn’t like our ‘nannying’ and that it was very unpopular. Conditioned by the Evening Standard attacks. But when Jack pointed out that he had dined with Bob Worcester last night and his latest MORI poll showed that less than 1 per cent thought our ban mattered or opposed it, and fewer than 3 per cent of people ever ate beef on the bone, he backed off. Popularity matters more than the substance of the policy. Blair then pushed for Jack to work harder to get the beef ban lifted so we could have ‘a triumph in our Presidency’. Jack pointed out that we are trying very hard and if we pushed too crudely might get a rebuff. Again, Tony seemed to know no details and didn’t seem to understand the real nature of the problems. He reacts to headlines like the ‘nanny state’. And ducks anything unpopular in the media. (This matches with what Margaret Jay told me about her visit to discuss hospital waiting lists, where he thought all he needed to say was ‘cut waiting lists’ and it would happen. Had not grasped that waiting lists are as long as a piece of string and not of defined length which could be shortened, since ministers don’t control demand.) Jack didn’t have time to raise the crucial future of MAFF; or at least, when he raised it, Blair left ‘to catch a helicopter’. Jack then raised with us the problem of salaries in MAFF. Allegedly, Packer is holding down the salaries of some of our key staff. Some of them are paid less than in comparable departments and Carden, Lebrecht (and my Natalie) are thinking of moving. With them gone, it would be almost denuded of any senior quality at all (except for Kate Timms). Supper in the evening in the guest room with Sarah, where we plot the timetable of when I get out of this nonsense. The sensible time is February, leaving time to go skiing, then Cheltenham racing, then a civilised summer. One good development is that the European Commission today unanimously recommended to lift the ban on our beef exports. A great triumph for Jack’s untiring negotiating and courting of Commissioner Fischler.

Thursday 11 June 1998 Off to the South East Country Show at Ardingly by train on a freezing wet morning. Showed around the food, wine and some wonderful cattle, Sussex bulls, Belgian Blues, Red Devons, Highlands and Rachel’s favourite little Dexters. Rachel was there, by secret prior arrangement, with my grandson Ben. He loved it.

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Princess Alexandra was guest of honour and we had a nice chat, planning to have a future dinner with Sarah in the Lords. Everyone was pleased with the initial lifting of the beef ban. Left early with the Princess and took a train back to Victoria. Our team were in first class, but some of the corridor doors were missing, having been ripped out. In our compartment, all the light bulbs were missing and it was too dark to read. The wall space where they used to have mirrors or pictures was ripped and filthy. We meant to complain to the ticket inspector, but there wasn’t one. So this is the benefit of Tory privatisation.

Sunday 14 June 1998 Wind, grey and torrential showers. Interesting lunch in Wargrave with Bob  Phillis, used to be vice-chairman of the BBC and now with the Guardian media group. Nice fellow and family man. David Mellor and Lady Penny Cobham the other guests. I have always found him engaging and fun – my old weakness for intelligent rogues I suppose. He amused us all with many tales and was also engagingly frank about himself – saying that his own career would have been more successful had he been able to ‘take an anti-Viagra pill’. Also said he was very ­‘semi-detached’ in politics, unsupportive of the present Tory party. This is one reason he has not come to the Lords – doesn’t want to take the Tory whip. Said he worked for Jeffrey Archer as a research assistant and likes him, but thinks him ‘unsuitable for public life’ – meaning his lack of attachment to veracity. David said that MAFF is the worst department in government and ‘a bed of nails and graveyard for all ministers’. Said farmers are ‘greedy beyond belief and whatever you give them is never enough’. The farmers were at the Cardiff summit yesterday demanding that ‘traitor Jack’ be sacked. They may find their department is abolished as well; then they will cease to be the only economic sector with a Cabinet minister to whinge to.

Monday 15 June 1998 Meeting with an impressive man from British speciality foods. I try to push that food side because the people and the product are good, they don’t get any subsidy and they don’t whinge. Quick meeting at the Lords with Jeff Rooker and Joyce Anelay to sort out the pesticides bill. Then to a garden party with Cardinal Hume. Except

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it was indoors and we could only peer through the window at the lovely Chelsea Physic Garden, seeping with rain. Stuck late at the Lords on roster, though no divisions.

Tuesday 16 June 1998 Bleak cold day. To Ascot for lunch with Stoker Hartington. Me looking a bit battered since Honey had played throwing games with my topper yesterday, finally trying to hide it under the bed. Stoker’s mother, the last of those remarkable Mitford sisters, sat with great Irish trainer Vincent O’Brien. Across the way, my Sarah was looking dazzling, sitting with Ernie Halifax, who looks more chinless by the day. There were no other ministers there. Apparently, Robin Cook declined on the silly grounds that he wouldn’t wear a morning suit. Gesture politics! Who cares? It is all pantomime anyway. The charming old Duke of Devonshire, still delighted I once called him a Whig in the Chamber (he cannot stand the Tories), still wants me to do the BHB (which is getting very sticky, with Peter Savill and the bookmakers exchanging serious fire). He said that Cranborne is ‘very arrogant, very Cecil. My mother was a Cecil; they are all like that’. Watched only the first race, then Hugh Burnham, the Tory whip, came up to me and said I could relax and stay at Ascot because there would be no divisions in the Lords that afternoon. Knowing the reputation of Tory whips for mendacity, I immediately grabbed my hat, kissed Sarah goodbye and fled to the car. Dead right. As we drove through Westminster, I got a phone call from our whips saying there was a division, Maggie raced through the red lights, I dashed upstairs, and just got into the lobby in time to vote. We won that, but later lost a vote by just one. Was pleased that one wasn’t me at Ascot, or there would have been serious flak. Ascot racing is not an acceptable Labour excuse. Had a quiet chat about newspapers with Clive Hollick in the library. The German predators have gone away so Clive’s schemes for taking the Mirror look more promising. Nipped over to Westminster embankment for the ITV party on a boat. Lots of the Westminster power figures there. Chatted with Bruce Grocott, the PM’s excellent PPS. Tony Banks was spitting blood about the England football hooligans in France. They jeopardise our chances of getting the World Cup in 2006. Banks won’t be a minister then, that’s for sure. Me neither. Long chat with my favourite young Labour politician, Peter Kilfoyle, who would make a great chief whip. Funny Liverpool Catholic, built like

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a tank, who sorted out the Merseyside Trots a decade ago. Blair should reward him more, because without people like him there would never have been an electable Labour Party for Blair to inherit and to lead. It is easy to make speeches about NEW Labour and the Third Way, but what Peter did in Liverpool (and Neil Kinnock on the NEC committees and John Spellar in the West Midlands) needed acres of grinding time and resisting lots of physical threats from the nasty Trots. Peter is in the Cabinet Office and sees a lot of life at the centre. Says Blair needs a senior experienced adviser. As Thatcher said, every PM ‘needs a Willy’ (Whitelaw). Someone without an axe to grind who says ‘No’. Peter said the PM ‘is surrounded by people with no experience’. Once he reminded Blair that every Roman Emperor was followed by an ordinary citizen to remind him of his mortality. Blair did not like that. ‘Hubris will follow’, said Peter. He also said that Mandelson now has less access than he did. Campbell is doing all the media advice. Peter is quite worried about his future. He knows he should not go on being Blair’s poodle. But that is what Blair is lining up for him with the new Cabinet Office job: ‘just a glorified progress chaser’. Peter is better than that. We await the reshuffle. Home late, but uplifted by the political gossip to take Sarah and Graham  Greene out to a delicious dinner at our local favourite, Campagnola, where the pasta is superb. Graham said that the whole Arts world is complaining – mind you, they always do, like the farmers, but having more earrings and less balls.

Wednesday 17 June 1998 Going along to our private meeting in Jeff ’s room. Liz Lloyd from No. 10 told me that the PM has no intention of abolishing MAFF. Felt very disappointed. In the meeting we discussed dog quarantine, where the timetable for the Kennedy report has slipped a couple of months and Liz was nervous, saying it must be out and responded to before the party conference. I suggested we ministers should meet the department regional directors to discuss our new policies. I asked Grimley 12 months ago if I could attend their regular meetings, but nothing has ever happened. The PMQ on fishing quotas went well. I launched an attack on the Tories for their appalling failures on fishing policy. We have somehow given our fishing industry away. I have never been so aggressive, abrasive or unfairly partisan before. Tory minister, John Mackay, whom I admire, looked quite shocked, and our side was cheering. Jim Callaghan and Ivor Richard congratulated me. Nice feeling. But best not too often. Back to cosy

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inclusiveness next time. Blair won’t be too happy if I keep attacking the Tories. Also they know more about these policies than I do.

Thursday 18 June 1998 Walked to Sloane Square to open a new food fair at Partridges. Made me nostalgic for when I lived at 1 Sloane Square and used to pop round to Partridges for delicious supper snacks. Should never have sold No. 1. Back to the office to see Joe Haines. Walking along Millbank, a man at a bus stop smiled at us and said ‘nice to see the old gang’ – Adam Boulton, excellent newsreader and commentator from Sky News. Was nostalgic for Joe and me to meet the rare breed who remembers who the old gang were! The usual front bench going through the future programme: three-line whips till the end of July. Much muttering about the vote lost by one – ten people have apologised for not being there. Thank God I was. Margaret Jay and Tessa Blackstone and a very tired-looking Patricia Hollis all protested about the whip burden on ministers. Poor Margaret cannot even go to the 50th anniversary of the NHS. Today was our last day without a whip, so I slipped away early and wrote this, with grey rain outside.

Friday 19 June 1998 First warm sunny day in weeks. Drove two hours to Greenwich, much of it jammed down the Old Kent Road, to attend a lovely memorial service for my old friend Stella Alexander. A feisty American, born in China, imprisoned by the Japanese in the war, then a strong Quaker. Her very strong Christian principles at first made me feel a little uncomfortable, but stayed with me because they helped her to be such a whole and understanding person. Later I was told she converted to Catholicism and I have no doubt she continues to influence me from afar. Sitting in the delicate Victorian church in Greenwich village, I missed her, even though I had only seen her a couple of times in the last 20 years. Again had that feeling that I have erred in too often losing touch with my real friends. There are excuses: my switching among five occupations (university, journalism, management, finance and politics) tends to break continuities and threw me among new contacts. My marriage break and move to a new life with Sarah certainly cut off some old ties. But there are no real excuses. I neglected my old friends, and that matters because they matter

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to me. Explains the constant undertone of sadness whenever I look back, or revisit old haunts, or go to pray for them when they die. I was a loser from not keeping up with Stella. She was a wonderful lady. She started studying Yugoslavia when she was 60 and became a respected expert, travelling to that savage country and mastering its religions, races and language. They don’t make them like her any more. The service was unusual because we had first the Catholic mass and then the Quaker meeting, with its long silences and occasional moving interventions. I chatted with old Oxford friends in the sunshine outside the Church: Jill Palmer, Ros Arnold Forster and my ex-wife Carol, who was clearly affected by the loss of another link to happier days. Then in the car for an appalling three hours crawling in the Friday traffic back to Fox’s Walk; where I did a quick change into dinner jacket and set off with Sarah for Oxford. The dinner was at University College where Robin Butler has just become Master. Lovely first warm summer evening of the year. Oxford feeling great post-finals, the students relaxed and no longer as scruffy as they were a decade ago. Did a nice tour of the college, including Shelley’s tomb. Robin seems very happy in his new job and says he doesn’t miss the Cabinet Office at all. He is such a positive man that he will make a success of anything he does. Blair’s latest list of life peers out tonight. A strange homage to celebrity glitterati. But a few solid Labour citizens as well, including Melvyn Bragg, who really deserves it.

Sunday 21 June 1998 Scorching day. To Lords test match against South Africa. In the presidential box of Sarah’s brother-in-law, Colin Ingleby-Mackenzie: palatial with magnificent views of the cricket. At lunch sat with Peter Pollock who used to be a terrifying Springbok fast bowler. Fairly silent. The cricket was exciting. Before lunch, Hussein and Stewart hammered the South Africans all over the field, putting on a hundred, with Hussein getting his century. After lunch, England had one of their usual collapses, with six wickets going for 11 runs and it was all over. Sarah drove back to the country and I walked beside Regents Park to Camden Town to visit Nori and Philip Graham in Kentish Town. It was a glorious sunny evening and I walked around Parliament Hill Fields where I played football on every Sunday morning with John Carrier, Hunter Davies etc. for 20 years. Delicious supper in the garden. I advised Nori to live in this area over 30 years ago and our families grew up together.

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Monday 22 June 1998 Maggie collected me early and we zoomed out to Northolt to take a chartered jet to toy-town Luxembourg. Lunch with Cathy at the Council building, realising that again I had not been given my office expenses allowance, so had to borrow embarrassingly from Cathy. Council started at 3.00 pm with a three-hour round table on the package of CAP issues for settlement before us – prices, beef, bananas, set-aside, hemp, animal welfare etc. – the largest reform package the Council had ever faced. They all repeated their familiar positions, very boring. There will have to be compromises later, except by the Germans, who never shift and think concessions are for others. Apparently, the German–France bloc stitch-up, always done ahead of the Council, is operating strongly this time and they have agreed everything in advance except the set-aside rate, where the French support us. This alliance usually gets what it wants. My view is that the UK should form its own bloc with the Nordic countries. With Sweden, Denmark, Finland, Netherlands and Ireland, we would have 28 votes, sufficient to bloc anything; the Germans with France, Belgium and Luxembourg have only 27. Afterwards we went down to the bar. Jack loves his late-night whisky and cigar. He was very down. Told me he is convinced that Blair will drop him in the reshuffle. Because he is influenced by malicious press headlines and not by the substance of policy performance. He would be happy to stay at MAFF, which he obviously enjoys much more than I do. I said it is a political graveyard and pointed out that in the past 20 years no minister had emerged other than diminished; because farmers moan, whatever is done for them. He feels completely out of touch with this New Labour stuff, all about headlines, nothing about substance, and retreating the moment any policy comes under fire. The role of No. 10 seems to be to make sure that Labour ministers don’t do anything that the Tories and business don’t like. They end up frustrated and doing nothing. Jack loathes Brown, who got him moved from Industry, which he feels most qualified for, and has no respect for Blair, who he thinks has no Labour roots and won’t last the course. He repeated that he likes my ideas for a wider rural MAFF, including the horsey culture, but felt that No. 10 is no longer interested. Jack said that what he liked about MAFF was his political team of ministers who are very happy. And the European dimension, in which he has always been at home.

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Tuesday 23 June 1998 Into the Council at 9.00 am, where Jack from the chair announced he would go into a series of bilaterals with individual countries and the Commission to try to find compromises between the divergent positions on every item on a long agenda. There was no role in this for me. So I took the car with Cathy, across the Moselle into Germany. Pretty hilly and wooded country, small villages and trim vineyards. Round here it was idyllic and you would never imagine that the Nazi panzers rolled through here on their way to (attempted!) world domination. I discussed with Cathy the departmental inquiry into our lousy press office. Packer had tried to stop her from sitting on it, saying in a formal minute that it ‘would deter civil servants from being open’ – the usual Whitehall game suggesting that special advisers will ‘leak’. This claptrap, standard when I was in No. 10, is now mainly found only in moderate departments like MAFF, where mediocre civil servants feel threatened by anyone of ability from outside. She told me that the other day that when Jack had to go to the ITV studio for an interview, our top press officer didn’t know where it was! I spoke to the number one yesterday and he was completely ignorant of the big reshuffle that has taken place among the press lobby correspondents – his main constituency. These people are simply not professional. We agreed that the sad thing is that, when we leave MAFF, there will not be a single official we want to see again, except my young Simon who she loves. Yet when I left No. 10 in 1979, I took with me friendships with Robert Armstrong, Patrick Wright, Robin Butler, Ken Stowe, Tim Lankester etc. All of whom I still enjoy keeping in touch with. The difference is one of quality. Mediocre officials feel threatened by quality and play these silly Whitehall games. First-class ones, like the private secretaries in No. 10, don’t feel threatened, but welcome the contributions of any others of quality. In the evening, went to the Presidential dinner in the Council building. Meant to be an occasion to build bridges. But the food was awful, the mood tetchy, so a failure really. Bad omen against an early settlement of the reform package. I at least managed to move my placement and sit between Spanish Loyola and Joe Walsh and we had a good gossip. Loyola very nervous about her olive oil quotas, where Jack is looking to help her. After this dinner I went back to the hotel for the ceremonial drink and cigar with Jack. He talked about when he was a child in Durham and the Coal Board threw his family out of their pit cottage because they no longer

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had a working miner in the family. While all these middle-class Bennites were making a romance out of coal mining and trying to keep the pits open and the working men slaving down there. My father worked briefly down Gedling Colliery in Nottinghamshire and was not entranced. We agree that Blair is not physically tough and is showing signs of wear and tear. Won’t see it through. Not to bed till after 2.00 am.

Wednesday 24 June 1998 Jack was very busy in endless bilaterals, which had made some progress. Dined late in the hotel. Officials reported that the beef on the bone court case would be announced tomorrow and go against us. Not cheering.

Thursday 25 June 1998 Went to the Council chamber at 10.30 am, but broke again for endless bilaterals. Jack started at 8.30 am and did not stop negotiating till 2.00 the following morning, when he finally stitched together his compromise package. Offices in chaos with everybody dashing around reporting compromises and blockages. Jack still seeing individual ministers, who all promised to support the whole package if they could only have one more concession – and then all reneged later. I worried about getting home tonight. Sarah getting fed up. We broke again for more bilaterals. Jack was working like a slave with Fischler to get a compromise package. But the Italians were being very difficult, not over their own position, but because Jack had given concessions to Loyola of Spain. The South Europeans all hate one another. The French were also desperate to get the set-aside percentage down, which was right, but the Germans were refusing to budge off 10 per cent and enjoying screwing their close allies. Soon revealed that the only compromisers were from North Europe, confirming my long-held view that we should have formed a Common Market of the Hanseatic North. Finland, Ireland, Austria and UK all accept the package as it stands. Joe Walsh told me that he accepted because if things went on much longer ‘I shall miss the 2 o’clock race tomorrow’. A sensible approach. Loyola praised Jack as ‘a brilliant chairman’ but she still needed more on olive oil. The Italians, Greeks and Portuguese wouldn’t sign up because the Spaniards had already been given too much. Italy ranted and said ‘it is an insult’. The French said the set-aside was ‘unacceptably’ high, the Germans that it should be even higher. So we broke again at 6.00 pm until midnight.

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All that time, Jack was hammering away in bilaterals. I admire his stamina and patience. He had to get a settlement or it would have reflected badly on the British presidency. All these matters have been hanging around for ages and it was our declared presidency aim to clear them in our time. Of course, a few of our partners were not keen on the UK having a successful presidency. But to have failed would have been humiliating for us. I spoke to nobody in those six hours, except I phoned Sarah every hour; weather in England not good. And dear David Swaythling is dying, so Sarah sends some flowers. We reassembled at midnight, everyone bleary and tetchy. ‘The Germans are playing a very dirty game’, says Andy Lebrecht. And the French looking desperate as they realise once again that the great Franco-German alliance means they get screwed every time. All are now on board except the Germans, the French and the Dutch, who are still posturing. Jack thought he had the final deal when Loyola said she could now accept her olive oil concessions. But the Germans asked for another break. Jack said OK, but nobody leaves the room. We resumed and Jack took the vote count. Jack left the two intransigents, Germany and France, to the end. The French now asked for a break – it was already after one in the morning – while Ponsec phoned the French President. The Germans crowded round Jack to get more concessions but were brushed away by the excellent Fischler. The Irish and I regretted not having asked for some olive oil subsidy for ourselves. Resumed – and the Germans said OK. That gave Jack the qualified majority and left the French looking forlorn. They had hoped we would force the Germans to climb down on set-aside, but were afraid to confront them themselves. Not impressive. They then formally voted against the package to no purpose. So we had the settlement, which Fischler told the press was the biggest reform package ever. A triumph for Jack as chairman, though he will get no credit for the success, since the British media won’t report it and so No. 10 will be unaware. We left the Council building at 3.00 am and went back to Jack’s room for a celebration drink. I was shattered and he fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. But at least we had seen it through.

Friday 26 June 1998 Was deep asleep when the morning call went at eight. Had a fierce cold shower to wake me up. Breakfast downstairs; then we all whizzed to the airport and flew home to Northolt, arriving at 10.30 am. I sat with Jack and

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between dozes we discussed the impending defeat in the court appeal on the beef on the bone ban, which is rumoured to be against us. I gave him some bull points to use with the media – that our policy was to follow the best scientific advice and put public health first; when you don’t do that, you end up with BSE. Maggie collected me at the airport and we went to do a wine interview with the BBC at our local Berkshire vineyard. The TV kept me waiting. I was on time coming from Luxembourg and the journalists were late from Reading. That is ministerial life. Wrote bits of this diary. Have masses of scribbled notes from Luxembourg. Realise that, though I wouldn’t want to go through it again, the EU presidency was really quite an experience and I learned a lot.

Saturday 27 June 1998 Good news is that the beef on the bone appeal case went our way. Nice lunch of lamb chops with Sarah and George in the conservatory. Back to civilisation. Hall full of red boxes which accumulated this week. Stuff them.

Sunday 28 June 1998 At mass, we had a letter read out from the Bishop, a long spiel saying how marvellous all our parish priests are, very repetitive. Rising after it, Father Flanagan said, ‘After that embarrassing message from the Bishop, we can say the prayer that our Lord taught us – “Our Father...”. ’ Everyone giggled. After lunch, walk to the village fête. Entered Honey for the prettiest bitch competition. Didn’t win – must have been fixed. Then a nice game of tennis with Sarah in the evening sunshine. Lovely weekend.

Monday 29 June 1998 For my PQ on organophosphates from persistent Peyton and Mar, the briefing was awful and my suggested first reply embarrassing – a straight assertion that OPs presented ‘no unacceptable risks’. Who to? Not to the ­officials writing that. I changed it a bit, adding ‘on current scientific evidence’, but later felt I should have thrown it out. After all, last week we published a report summarising research that proved bad effects, but my briefing, with 83 Q&As, didn’t refer to that. Nor did it answer Peyton’s main ­question, which was how much clinical research was going on into the effect on human health. I made the official phone the Pesticides Safety Division

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and they told him 15 studies, which I gave to the House. Afterwards Peyton and Mar attacked the officials in the lobby with me standing by. They loudly said that my answer wasn’t true and they would put down a motion saying I had misled the House. I suspect they are right. The department seems to be in the pockets of the agro chemical producers. Peyton shouted at the Pesticide Safety official, ‘I was a minister and I observed your department destroying the political reputations of my ministerial colleagues at MAFF; don’t do it to him’. I grew angrier as the afternoon went on, partly with myself for not having thrown out their advice completely. There was nothing in the thick file of briefing to reflect any of the changes we have made in this organophosphates area. The officials don’t accept those changes towards greater protection of health and so they ignore what we have said or decided. This briefing could have been produced for the Tories in April last year – and probably was. Laziness, not conspiracy. So I instructed Grimley that I didn’t want the Pesticide Safety Directorate briefing for any future PQs. Next morning, he told me he had reported this to Carden, as head of that side. He said he sympathised with me since he also thought they are no good, but they are an independent agency and so he cannot control, move or sack them. So I asked for the details of the agency chairman and will submit a request that he be not renewed. David Clarke came up to speak to me about our problems with the government Car Service. He encouraged me to pursue the cost and efficiency issue (he is the Cabinet minister responsible), saying he had not been able to get a single straight answer out of his civil servants. He said that, contrary to what MAFF and Packer had told me, we could opt out of the GCS and make our own arrangements. Tea with Margaret Jay, which always cheers me up, and told her the news on the car service. She has received a grovelling apology for her car breaking down three times in three days. They have finally spotted there is a danger to this cosy Whitehall empire from me in the Lords. So they apologise to Margaret and suddenly give my car air conditioning. Too late, I hope. She told me that Blair is sitting on several Health protection bans from Health and MAFF and will probably stop them all since he is worried about ‘nannying’. He seems to accept all the Tory propaganda. She tells more funny stories about Frank Dobson and clearly likes him. Dashed back to the Ministry for a meeting on the expensive proposed renewable energy crops with Jack and John Battle from DTI – though the latter was half an hour late due to going to our previous address. Such is MAFF’s profile that other Whitehall departments don’t even know where

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we are! Each minister tried to persuade the other to pay the huge costs to develop biomass fuel crops, which I suspect does not make sense other than to mad Greens... Failing that, they agree jointly, but without hope, to approach Gordon Brown. Back for the Labour peers party on the terrace. Blair was away in Frankfurt, so Jack Straw made a funny speech in his place. The party was filled with our new glitterati peers who I did not recognise. They are good at attending cocktail parties on the terrace – less visible in the boring division lobbies, where we are now being beaten daily by the Tories, abusing their huge majority of hereditaries.

Tuesday 30 June 1998 Through an endless traffic jam for lunch at the Gay Hussar with Michael Bedford. So many memories of happy past times there when I was in No. 10. But now sadly empty, a morgue. Just three other tables full – you used to have to book a week in advance. No politicians or journalists go any more since Fleet Street closed down and moved down-river. Still the books of old customers up on the shelf, but no authors go there anymore. Sad. Saw Jim Molyneux in the Lords and he said, ‘if you take the word “no” out of the English language, Ian Paisley would be silenced for life.’ Finally, six months after requested, had the meeting on promoting agricultural co-operatives to help farmers to market their produce more efficiently. Have instructed the officials to get moving on this, but not optimistic. Tom Stanley wrote to me and said he strongly supported co-ops as the only marketing answer for much of small English farming. But officials too often think the only answer is more handouts from the agricultural welfare system. Big prairie farms are administratively more convenient, anyway. We had constant votes, especially Blatch on the education bill, converting us all to Lords reform. Good briefing meeting on tomorrow’s Cabinet meeting on the Euro. Quick supper with Alf Dubs before we all adjourned to the upstairs TV room for the great game between England and Argentina. Room crowded with mainly Labour peers – Tories obviously don’t follow soccer; prefer golf or rugby.

Wednesday 1 July 1998 Got up early for the ministerial meeting but it was called off and nobody told me.

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In to Cabinet committee chaired by Helen Liddell on our preparations for the new Euro currency. In No. 11 Downing Street, in the first-floor meeting room looking back over Horseguards Parade and the side of No. 10. Chandeliers and nice eighteenth-century portraits, with cream fabric on the walls, but still looked a bit shabby and in need of refurbishment. Scot Gordon Brown presumably reluctant to spend any money. Adair Turner made a very poor presentation of the problems relating to the Euro, wholly on the basis that we are certainly going in, and avoiding the economic disadvantages for unemployment in our regions – which he passed off callously as mere ‘adjustments’. Back in the Lords for an afternoon of votes and another tea with Margaret Jay. Cleared two red boxes. Supper in the Barry Room with Sarah and Nanine Spillman from Gstaad. Did not leave till 11.30 pm because my roster was on. Distressing message from Grimley that Jack wants me in the office at 7.30 am to discuss the future legislative programme, saying that was the only time Jack could do.

Thursday 2 July 1998 I staggered in blearily at 7.30 am and in my casual slacks and tennis shirt. Afterwards Jack asked me, ‘Why the hell did you haul me in at this hour?’. (He had a very late night.) I said, ‘But you hauled us in’. He denied this and it emerged that Packer wanted an early meeting so he could get away to the West Country. So he told Jack it was the only time we junior ministers could do, and told us it was the only time Jack could do. (I checked this with Grimley on Friday morning.) In fact, suited Packer. He is quite an impressive operator. Jeff said there are rumours of a reshuffle on 10 July, but I am suspicious as that is just the conclusion from the end of the comprehensive spending review. Does mean Blair could do it then – but I suspect will be 27 July. Early lunch with my vet friends Andrew Higgins and Lawson Soulsby. Latter told me that the MAFF vets are accusing Higgins of leaking – to me and to Soulsby. They want to smear Higgins and try to get him shut out of the final stages of the Quarantine report because he favours reform and is a friend of mine. They also want to get me shut out of the ministerial discussion – ditto. Back briefly to my office to pick a Ceri Richards painting to go with my Allen Jones. Then off to a meeting in the Commons on the government Car Service (GCS). This was hilarious. Peter Kilfoyle, as minister, took me on one side and explained that the service is hopeless, but the director is well-meaning and trying to sort it out. He added that I couldn’t have a

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better car because the Prime Minister in September had approved a detailed ­hierarchy of cars for each rank of minister. I am a second-hand Vauxhall Vectra or Ford Mondeo minister. I explained that I didn’t want a bigger car – which they had assumed was my interest. Just comfortable enough to work on my boxes sitting in the back. Then I launched off with the figures. MAFF pays a minimum of £48,000 rising to £65,000 per year with extras for a lousy car which is in the accounts at worth less than £5000. The rest is driver costs and GCS overheads, which are 33 per cent. I said that was ludicrous. They admitted it and said it was because the GCS occupied expensive empty premises which they cannot re-let. And they have the costs of all the garage servicing. What the hell is Whitehall doing in the garage business, when there are hundreds of more efficient garages out there? The more they made excuses, the worse it sounded. At least the director said if he hadn’t sorted it out in 18 months, he would have ‘to make radical recommendations’. I said if it was a private firm it would go bust in two days. Because it provided a lousy car service at a high price nobody would choose to pay. He admitted this. And then stated that MAFF could choose to contract its car service somewhere else better, but had never bothered. And I could do that personally – as did Michael Heseltine, and as does the permanent secretary in the Duchy of Lancaster, who is actually responsible for the car service. We may do that – though as Peter admitted afterwards, if a couple of departments pulled out, the GCS would collapse anyway. Perhaps that is the best solution. Went to No. 10 for a farewell party for David Hill, who has done a sturdy job for decades defending the indefensible in the Labour Party. Nice to be back in Downing Street. Blair not there – in Northern Ireland fighting to get the Orange marches called off. Jack Straw stood in for him. I took the chance to call in on old familiar territory. Met Anji Hunter with a big kiss and she took me on a tour. To Blair’s new room next to the Cabinet Room, where Robert Armstrong, and then Ken Stowe, used to sit with Patrick Wright or whoever was the Foreign Office secretary. Nicely set out with sofa and armchairs and desk, and window looking over the No. 10 garden. The party was upstairs in the reception rooms. I chatted briefly with Peter Kilfoyle about this afternoon’s meeting. He hopes the end may be in sight for the government Car Service. Liz Lloyd discussed No. 10’s worries about quarantine. John Spellar chatted helpfully about my plans to make the army eat more British lamb – at present they eat none. Also to Chris Smith. I said to him that he deserved better ministerial support below him at Arts. To my surprise, he readily agreed and said he had already conveyed that view to No. 10. So who will be chopped? Tom Clarke, Mark Fisher or Banks?

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All have highly placed protection. So maybe it will have to be Chris himself. That will all be interesting. Straight and late to a meeting with Ben Gill of the NFU, with his assistant but none of my officials. We sat in the Royal Gallery. Discussed my wish to advance ‘farm collectives’ – the NFU thinks the word co-operative would be ‘too left-wing’. Very good discussion and we agreed to work together on this, especially since the NFU is about to launch a good document on it. Ben is a very tall Yorkshireman with sandy hair and the looks of Viking origin. He takes a tough line against us in public, to satisfy his militants, but in private is very reasonable. His union is a terrible one, controlled by the activists at county level, rather like the old National Union of Public Employees. But the basic point is that, as the MORI poll showed, 90 per cent of his members voted against Labour, EVEN in 1997. So we are never going to win much credit with them.

Saturday 4 July 1998 Grey day but at least no rain. Watched some appalling England batting responding to South Africa’s 550–4. Another collapse. Then off to the great Heseltine birthday bash at Thenford. Quite a nice evening by this year’s standards. Arrived to find the 400  guests gathered in front of the beautiful house drinking champagne. Chatted with dear old friend John Gross and with David Walker, who used to work for me at The Times. Elspeth Howe told me how MAFF was always the worst Whitehall department for female opportunities. And Robert Maxwell’s favourite daughter, Ghislaine, floated up looking very pretty and told me she had just bought a house in England, as well as the one in New York. Must still be some money hidden away somewhere. Went in to eat in a handsome great marquee attached to the back of the house. Forty tables of 10. I sat at a table with Tory ex-minister Tom King and a doctor wife of the specialist who treats Michael’s heart problem. She says he is fine, but could just drop down dead one day, like anyone who has had a major heart attack. Michael spoke briefly, recalling that the best such speech he heard was at Peter Carrington’s wedding anniversary, when his Best Man said merely ‘a good show’. Michael looked well and danced with Sarah. I danced with Ingrid Channon, who recalled our first meetings in the ­mid-70s, at George Weidenfeld’s flat and at Harold Lever’s. She said we were i­mmediately on the same wavelength. Now a marvellous friend of us both. She has met Honey and says I am clearly in love with her. Undeniable.

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Had another long chat with clever John Gross, who told me he doesn’t ‘want to spend my old age as a lonely bachelor’. Will try to invite him to one of our dinners. A terrific swing and jazz band, led by Lord Tony Colwyn. Really took me back and lifted our spirits. A wonderful evening. I was the only Labour person there, certainly the only Labour minister. Lots of Tory ex-ministers – Jopling, Gummer, Ryder, Mawhinney, King, Channon, Fowler, Howe, Lamont – you could have re-formed a ‘wet’ Tory Cabinet there and then. Surprised none of the Hague gang. Shows Michael not friendly with this right-wing anti-European lot.

Sunday 5 July 1998 Each day I waver over whether to stay in the job. At least once a day deciding I don’t enjoy it so it isn’t worth it. Then I have a nice meeting or achieve some tiny point of positive benefit and decide to soldier on. Might as well stay over the summer, if Blair doesn’t drop me. But the horizon must be quite short now.

Monday 6 July 1998 Up at 6.45 am on a grey morning and Maggie picked me up with Simon to go to the Royal Show at Stoneleigh. Hard to believe it is a year since I went there last year. Went first to see the pigs. Enormously impressive. In the shed were a long line of fat sleeping pigs; reminded me of a Gay Hussar journalists’ lunch. Though when I mentioned this, jokingly, to the ­pig-owning guide, he was quite upset, and pointed out that pigs are much nicer and more intelligent, so I must be careful not to libel them. Went to the pavilion to be greeted by the President, the Duke of Westminster – my landlord on the Grosvenor estate, so I enjoyed keeping him waiting 10 minutes. Then visited various stands. Finished with an excellent Cornish pavilion and was able to announce to a largish crowd that we had rescued the European ‘protected status’ of Cornish clotted cream – probably my only success as a minister. There were cheers and good coverage in the press next day. No lunch on my agenda so I visited the specialist foods tent and tried a wide range of tasty pies, sausages etc. Then whisked back to the Lords for various votes. Went again to the boring Cabinet committee on the science-fiction Millennium Bug, with schoolmarm Margaret Beckett briskly in the chair. John Gilbert opened portentously saying he had just come back from Washington especially to report to the committee – which wouldn’t have

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been my order of priorities. He warned us that some defence systems would not be compliant for 1 January 2000. I asked if this meant the French might invade us on the second. He didn’t see the joke and replied very heavily and pompously. Apparently, Japan is totally unprepared – or cleverly knows there is nothing to prepare for. And NATO has only one man working on the Millennium. Even MAFF is doing better – or extravagantly worse – than that.

Tuesday 7 July 1998 Malicious piece in the Mail about how the DTI Maxwell report will damage me. Full of lies. But would have to resign as minister to pursue it for its libels. Sarah is very upset. The piece also attacks poor Helen Liddell similarly, who had nothing at all to do with Maxwell’s sins and hasn’t even been interviewed by the inspectors. Such mere facts won’t deter them. Interesting lunch with a group of big dairy operators. A big farmer accused me of talking nonsense and said I am a ‘socialist’. I said that was ‘a really nostalgic word which I have not heard for years’, and added that ‘these days the only people who use it are right wing Tories’. ‘You have got him in one,’ said another. After that the farmer was much less noisy.

Wednesday 8 July 1998 Left early for interesting visit to the Animal Health Centre at Newmarket. Andrew Higgins has built it up brilliantly over the past decade. Marvellous setting and I envied him the quality of his working life. Then on to lunch at Newmarket’s July course with racing people. Very happy to be back at the races. Was interviewed by Brough Scott for Channel 4, which was covering the meeting. Drove back after the first race to be at the Lords for votes – which never happened.

Thursday 9 July 1998 Interview with writer Daniel Korn about Murdoch and told him all my experiences, including my brutal sacking from Murdoch’s Times. Good meeting in the Royal Gallery with Richard Carden, our deputy secretary in charge of the pesticides division. He admits that the Pesticides Safety Directorate is ‘unsatisfactory’ – which to me means hopeless. He wants to make changes, but they are an independent Next Steps Agency up in York and they have got out of touch. Key to the problem is that the policy boys are also in York, whereas with most other divisions they are at

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London HQ. So less control of them. Agrees we should change some faces and have a different regime for dealing with ministerial PQs. But reluctant to do the really necessary reform which is to repatriate the policy boys to London. That costs money –‘moving allowances etc.’ But I agree to wait and see how the modest changes he proposed do work. Whip finally lifted on the Wales bill at 8.00 pm. Sarah drove us to Max Rayne’s annual summer party at his lovely Hampstead house. Max is 80 and still remarkably sprightly, despite eye cataracts. Chatted with my dear old friend, Claus Moser. The arts crowd have written off New Labour, but they would have done the same if Jack and I were there preaching the same economic truths to them as to the farmers. In terms of whinging, the luvvies and the farmers have much in common. The farmers are rewarded with more subsidy, the luvvies with more peerages and gongs. I sat with Jill Parker, a very old friend. Also at the table were celebrity Claus von Bülow and The Breaking of Bumbo author, Andrew Sinclair. Elsewhere were all the usual friendly crowd. Robert Armstrong, Peter Parker still wondering if he should have gone on the stage rather than running British Rail, John Gross alone, great director Richard Eyre, bruised by the media treatment of his mild report on the sins of Covent Garden, robust Vivien Duffield, Evelyn de Rothschild pale in the background, lovely Susan Crosland crippled by hip operations and the widow of the great conductor Solti (Christina Burton told me it was much nicer visiting the Solti palacio in Italy now that the tyrant music maestro has gone to conduct in a higher or a lower place). Drove along the M4 and in bed at 1.40 am. Very tired and not sure I have the balance of life right.

Saturday 11 July 1998 Terrible weather forecast for the weekend. So take a very long walk with Honey before all exercise is rained off. Call in on John King, wonderful village Irish butcher, to buy some bones for the dog. He is being killed off by the supermarkets and the health fascists of the Environmental Health Service. They took him on a course to show him how to wash his hands, and charged him a fortune for it. Nothing in the papers but stuff about the so-called ‘sleaze’ of Blair’s ‘cronies’ in No. 10. The soundbite ‘phoney Tony’s cronies’ will stick. But every prime minister must have an inner core in line with his thinking and who he trusts. I was once one of them. The problem this time is the

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gulf between No. 10 and the rank-and-file Labour Party members and back-benchers. And Tony does nothing to close that gap. As I told Bruce Grocott, he should regularly visit the tea rooms and sit in on minister’s speeches in big debates. But he is clearly not interested. He will pay for that politically.

Sunday 12 July 1998 Rain and wind and a desolate day. Poor Father Flanagan announced at the early Twyford service: ‘I am cancelling today’s barbecue at Wargrave because of the weather; and cancelling my sermon because I have nothing to say.’ After lunch watched the Tour de France from Ireland, through the lovely Wicklow mountains and at least not raining there. Then Clive Hollick phoned. He thinks Peter Mandelson is damaged by this media stuff on No. 10 cronies, since these people – Draper, Liddell etc. – are all friends of Peter. He does seem to run a court of cronies of his own. To put Peter in charge of the Cabinet Office will now reinforce the impression that the centre is run on crony lines. Perhaps better to send him to Culture, which he would do well, with sympathy for the arts, but firmly. So the New Labour honeymoon really is over now. The media are back on to their beloved ground of sleaze and personalities. Next week’s announcement of the results of the comprehensive spending review will provide a chance to replace scandal with substance. Then the reshuffle. The one clear thing is that Tony is so far completely involved in Northern Ireland, with a total stand-off with the Orange men over the Drumcree march – and last night three Catholic children were murdered by the loyalist terrorists. The settlement looks very fragile. But at least we have the referendum to prove that the majority want peace and the Assembly. The extreme Orange Orders and the IRA are alike in their contempt for the majority. Incidentally, this week’s roundup of Republican bombers in Britain apparently resulted from an IRA tip-off to the British and Dublin police. At least the settlement is paying off there. Don’t know if the curious letter I received, with the names of alleged terrorists and their cell addresses, which I passed straight to the police, had anything to do with it. The basic political fact is that Blair will have to re-establish and broaden his political base. Won’t do to depend on his inner cronies. Because when things go wrong, as this week, most of the Labour MPs remain silent in the chamber and critical of him to journalists. So he needs to start nurturing his own side before it is too late. The glitterati he courts will desert him once he is unpopular.

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Clive asked if I thought Geoffrey Robinson, now attacked in the press for his offshore financing, was a central Maxwell man. I said I was not privy to who was central to Maxwell, and was there only a short time, but almost never heard of Geoffrey there. We agreed he is a refreshingly different and effective minister; but he shouldn’t be in the Treasury or near the Inland Revenue. Transport would do fine. He said his talks with Montgomery over the Mirror/Express deal are going well. And that Blair ought to grasp the Murdoch monopoly nettle. Says Blair is aware that Labour has an obsession against Murdoch (not me, Guv!) and doesn’t want to open it up. But it is a boil best lanced soon by removing the genuine objections to Murdoch’s privileged quasi-monopoly position – by removing his media privileges.

Monday 13 July 1998 Off to London after early lunch. Ulster still in Orange turmoil. Nice meeting with old Camden friend John Carrier in a rare visit to my MAFF office  – these days am always out to meetings in the morning and in the Lords in the afternoon waiting for votes.

Tuesday 14 July 1998 We escaped the ping-pong defeats on the education bill and Scottish fees by putting down our own amendment compromises. Jim Callaghan was brilliant, saying he had come to vote against the government, but now there was this marvellous concession (actually just a promise to review it in two years, which we would do anyway) he would have to support it. Interview with Anthony Seldon on my time in No. 10. Tea with Margaret Jay. Jubilant that the NHS has an extra £20 billion and plenty of ideas how to spend it on visible improvements, such as A&E. Then addressed Lord Wade’s rural economy group on our ideas for the new rural economy. Good speech written by Simon. Failed to get to the Claridges retirement party of John Hoskyns, my friend and successor running the Policy Unit under Thatcher, due to our permanent whip. Nice evening dinner I gave for Jack in the Barry Room. Very relaxed and Jack in great form, full of stories and jokes. He clearly feels less threatened with being dropped in the reshuffle. But is threatened by the comprehensive spending review, which is very tight, and insanely cuts all MAFF’s money for exports, organics, fishing decommissioning and the 5B grants for less-favoured regions. In fact, cuts everything where we are

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trying to introduce some new policies. Leaves us just with the boring old CAP. Terrible.

Wednesday 15 July 1998 Early ministerial meeting. Discussed spending review. Will meet next week, decide our priorities, including organics and 5B, which must be rescued and the money taken from elsewhere. Left meeting early for a good briefing on the latest Mar organophosphates question. Have changed the officials handling it and the good boss-man came down from York. Much better focused on the real issues. The PQ on organophosphates actually went very well and a lot of people congratulated me afterwards. My strategy of being sympathetic to Lady Mar and welcoming her questions is working. I have stopped the House seeing her as a martyr and lonely fighter against a deaf and uncaring ministry: they automatically rallied to her against the minister. Now they see I am sympathetic, so they listen to the arguments. My officials spotted the change in atmosphere. A little success in the broad fabric of failure. Over to No. 10 for a fascinating party for ministers. Slightly febrile ­atmosphere, since some feared they are for the chop and it was widely described as the ‘P45 party’. As always, nice for me to go back to Downing Street; it stamped my life working there for five years – nothing quite like it ever again. Looked at the paintings on the walls, quite different from in my time. Lots of moderns, especially the Scottish impressionists, Peplow, Fergusson etc. Nice Moore sculpture in the corridor. But some of the lovely ­eighteenth-century portraits are still there in the ‘white boudoir’. First dropped in on Alastair Campbell in Joe’s old room with the bow window looking over Downing Street. He seemed very content being at the centre of power. Walked upstairs with Cherie Blair and talked with her about the rooms. She asked where Jim and Harold worked and I told her the study. She said they thought that would now be difficult. Not clear why. She seemed a bit distant and not as gushing as on the previous occasions I have met her. The excitement has worn off and the treadmill is getting to her, as it always does. Chatted with Chris Smith, as friendly as ever. I told him I would like to be in his department and he seemed pleased. He said he didn’t like the style of this government, with too little concern with substance – linked himself with Jack in this respect and seemed for the first time to be ‘Old Labour’.

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Particularly didn’t like the way ministers briefed against one another – ­‘especially two people’ (Brown and Mandelson). Talked with Blair economic adviser, Derek Scott, comparing 1974 (when he advised Chancellor Healey) to now. He said that the big difference is that ‘political advisers are now accepted’. I said ‘not in MAFF they are not – because MAFF is still pre-1974’. He is pessimistic about the path of the economy and has clearly been briefing Blair that Brown is too optimistic. I spoke with Gordon Brown and his girlfriend Sarah Macauley. She was at school with my daughters Rachel and Kate, and we discussed that. Told him my scheme for raising a half-billion through abolishing the ‘red diesel’ exemption. They are going to Cape Cod on holiday. She said ‘Gordon likes to be able to go to a supermarket and nobody recognises him’. I wonder? Politicians always say that, but my observation is they like to be recognised, and worry that, if not recognised, they don’t exist anymore. Tony Blair came briefly and made a short speech. He did not circulate much and begins to look seriously tired. Back to the Lords with nice Alf Dubs. Said Jack Cunningham had praised me to that day’s Agricultural Committee. Mutual loyalties help, but are rare in politics.

Thursday 16 July 1998 Woke grumpy with again awful toothache. My dentist had no spare time so I took pain killers all day while it got worse. I went to the BBC in Portland Place to do a long and sensible interview on the BBC food programme. Nice to go back to those underground studios and find serious people still burrowing away on serious programmes. First went there 38 years ago. Perhaps they will soon move to distant White City under the tight control of the ‘Birtian’ thought police. Groggy from the pills. I swooned through the afternoon: giving an interview to an LSE student who thought government was conducted according to either ideology or some academic text book model of party self-interest, with no allowance for muddle, cock-ups, contradiction, old prejudice or simply responding to what people seem to want at the time. Was told at 7.00 pm we could go in 10 minutes, and warned Maggie, but then was held there another three hours while waiting for votes on the Scotland bill. I sat in my room listening to Radio 3 music. I finally slipped away at 11.00 pm. Woken by the tooth at 5.00 am and got up in the grey early morning to write this. Watched a still heron standing in the pond and waiting to pounce on some poor stickleback. Graceful but lethal – a bit like Peter Mandelson.

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Saturday 18 July 1998 Quiet day. Evening drove 40 miles to Wootton in Oxfordshire for dinner with Graham Greene and Mark Fisher. I sat with the widow of Isaiah Berlin, a charming French/Russian/Jewish lady, who told me of her terrible experiences escaping from Vichy France to the USA in 1941 (and how the French, after their surrender in June 1940, became terribly pro-German and anti-British). I talked with Claus Moser afterwards. I told him that as we age we must always question our way of life. If we knew we would die next week, would we be happy with how we had spent the last six months of it? My  answer is no. He looked troubled, as he has just taken on another big educational commission, aged 75. He said ‘You are right. I am 75 and may have only another 10 years.’ We will both be lucky to last so long. Also a chat with Mark Fisher, who is nervous whether he will last the reshuffle, seeing both of us as very Old Labour. He is very critical of Blair, saying he has no beliefs or consistent principles or structure, just making it up as he goes along. Mark ‘would like another two years to see some things through’.

Sunday 19 July 1998 Sultry morning. At mass Father Flanagan pleased us by promising ‘no sermons in the coming holiday season’, and worried us by hinting he may be leaving and stating that if he went there was no priest in the diocese to follow him. I was devastated. He would not elucidate further. He and his mass are the peaceful start to my week. He has built up a big following in his two local churches. No news, except still stories Jack will be dropped. Cannot believe it. Surely Blair can see his solid political virtues and isn’t determined by trendy media fashion. I shall be furious if it happens.

Monday 20 July 1998 Fine start to the day. Off to the organic centre near Newbury. Walked around rather scruffy farm. Saw the organic wheat, festered with a lot of docks and thistles, but also lovely clover and happy organic cows with their fine bull. Overall, impressive, and the way forward for some small farmers – providing they control the docks! Back for briefing for tomorrow’s PQ on dog quarantine. Kennedy will report within days. The committee is united for reform.

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Tuesday 21 July 1998 In to a three-hour meeting on the comprehensive spending review. Jack had been well briefed by Jeff early this morning and asked some testing questions. Flushed out that we might save some of our small schemes, such as keeping the Agricultural Wages Board and bee disease control, and that the department had included and hidden a hundred million pounds of BSE capital projects for the vets – most of which won’t be finished until long after the BSE crisis has gone. Afterwards, Jack said he still knew nothing of the coming reshuffle. He hopes to stay at MAFF and keep all the team. But he had noticed that the officials were holding back on all decisions till next Tuesday – as if they know it is coming on Monday. Then they can bounce their preferred cuts through the new team. Also Maggie told me that Jack’s driver has taken home his belongings from his locker, expecting to go back into the pool. Then over to the Lords for dinner. Princess Alexandra and Angus Ogilvy came, with Paul and Ingrid Channon. Alexandra is sweet and asked me lots of questions about my career, obviously having been well briefed. She is the easiest of the Royals. Today, Helene Hayman told me that John Prescott had not cleared his transport White Paper with No. 10 nor with the Chancellor. Claimed he was too important to have to do that and ordered officials to pull the phones off to stop contact. Blair and Brown are furious. Helene showed me a savage letter from Richard Wilson, Cabinet Secretary, to Prescott’s permanent secretary, Mottram. JP still hasn’t cleared his roads cuts programme. Thinks the rules don’t apply to someone as important as him. Helene says the reshuffle is next Monday. No. 10 stepped in to try to withdraw the roads programme from the printers because it is signed by doomed minister Gavin Strang, who won’t be there when it is published on Tuesday. PM asked JP to withdraw the cover page and substitute his signature. He refused because he wants Strang to take the blame for all his road cuts. What a circus. But Blair cannot discipline Prescott any more than he can control Brown.

Wednesday 22 July 1998 In a meeting with Packer and Jack on the department’s list of proposed honours. Again all men, no women, and all from the South of England. MAFF is incorrigible. Jack asked who had suggested the candidates, and

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Packer replied, ‘the public’. When we examined the forms it showed most of them were proposed by MAFF officials. I again suggested Andrew Higgins for a well-deserved OBE. They had rejected this, but were completely unaware that he had run the Animal Health Trust for 10 years. They simply oppose any ministerial candidates. Off to South Kensington for lunch with Nigel Elwes and the Thoroughbred Breeders. Nice chat where I explained my ideas for a Ministry for the Horse. They were sympathetic and the BHB man said they were officially considering it. Returned in a hurry to take a PQ on quarantine. Went very well – because we have a good case. Jack already has a summary of the report and should have the whole thing next week. Chairman Kennedy’s team have done very well. Dashed back to the department for another meeting on the spending review, but a division bell went even before I arrived, so had to rush back – but missed the vote, which we lost. It is crazy that we veterans in the Lords have only six minutes to get to a vote from distant departments, whereas the younger Commons Members have eight minutes. Meanwhile, tensions were building up over tonight’s big vote on the proposal to lower the age of consent for homosexual sex to 16. Clearly it could be a close vote, though trade unionist Joe Dean was confident it would be thrown out. I will vote the Catholic No ticket at first, though I will support it finally going through, as I am sure it eventually will, because it is in the right liberal direction. I will vote now for the Daily Herald against the Guardian – just as an anti-politically correct gesture. But am sure that the future of our society must be in a more tolerant and liberal direction on this. One of our Politically Correct Claptrap lot pointedly reminded me that there was a reshuffle at the weekend, implying I should vote for the change or I might be sacked. This stiffened my resolve further. I went upstairs and sat in the chamber until most of them had voted, since I did not want to walk through the lobby with some of the right-wing antis, who really are homophobes, which I certainly am not. I saw several Old Labour chaps ahead entering the lobby against change and felt better. The result was stunning, 298–120 against, with only 70 Labour votes in favour (though many abstainers). I know that, in the shaving mirror in the morning, I will be pleased I voted with 70 per cent of the country and 80 per cent of the Labour Party against the Guardian trendies – even though they might, for a rare change, be right on this one. I am instinctively with my father’s blue-collar Labour, against the liberal elite that has begun to neglect them, even in the Labour Party. That is no way to run the Broad Church Labour Movement.

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Thursday 23 July 1998 Wake still excited by the big Lords occasion last night. But clearly I won’t be popular with our side. As the only minister who voted against, I will be scapegoated. I can survive that stoically. But in fact 24 Labour peers voted against, led by Jim Callaghan and a dozen of his friends and ministers, such as Cledwyn Hughes, Stan Orme, Joe Dean, Jack Brookes etc. It is the Callaghan party, as you might have had in the eighteenth century. That is who I voted with – blue-collar, old-fashioned and sometimes out of date, like me. But we represent a valid Labour tradition. The Party leadership will lose its majority and power if it always ignores that tradition and Labour core. They have to be carried: in a willing coalition of the liberal reformers and the ordinary working people who are usually conservative on social issues. That is what Harold Wilson and Roy Jenkins did in their great 1964–70 social reforms. Explain to, and carry, people. Not hector them. Sandwich lunch at the Lords with Patricia Hollis and Maurice Peston, both full of politically correct disapproval of my vote last night. Our front-bench meeting significantly had no reference to the defeat. Silently recognised we dissenters are the heart of the Labour movement. Then a second sandwich with Liz Symons, who is very good fun. She kindly let me off attending her land-mine debate (and possible vote) tomorrow so I can go to the annual Game Fair. Realise I have been enjoying MAFF much more this week, with lots of good policy meetings. Jack is on top of it all now he is liberated from the EU presidency, and I am really looking forward to the Game Fair – the kind of thing I love. Afterwards chatted with Jack, who is now completely relaxed over the reshuffle, though still doesn’t know anything. Told me that, after Cabinet this morning, Donald Dewar said ‘Surely you must be OK, Jack’, and was astonished Tony had not reassured him beforehand – which is what Harold used to do, so colleagues need not worry unnecessarily. Jack also told me that the Cabinet discussed the homosexual defeat, and Blair said, ‘The bottom line on this is...’, and chronically incorrect Frank Dobson nearly fell off his chair laughing. We also discussed Prescott, who on radio and TV today sounded as if he had lost his marbles. Incoherent discussing nuclear power. Must be stressed and exhausted, especially by his rambling Transport White Paper. Helene tells me he is petrified of the Friends of the Earth and desperate to be loved by the Greens. Another Guardian bunch demanding endless subsidies and representing only 5 per cent of the public.

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Chatted with David Owen in the library. He is still looking for how he can lead the anti-single currency brigade, which ‘contains too many old nutters’. I advised him to form a commission of inquiry, with genuinely objective members, examining the practical alternatives to going in – an alternative within the EU but outside the single currency. That is what we lack. He said he would examine that and be back onto me in September. The press has lots of comment that Nigel Griffiths will be sacked for publicly criticising his permanent secretary – a capital offence in Whitehall. Briefing obviously from officials. Also added the sinister comment that Nigel had ‘already been marked down by officials in their reports on ministers to No. 10’. This is outrageous. Gives the mandarins even more power. It is difficult enough for ministers, especially junior ministers, to stand up to their official line. Now they will be afraid of being punished for opposing them. Another sign of Blair’s inexperience that he encourages this and doesn’t see the consequences. Also reflects the fact that, not himself attending Parliament or Cabinet committees, he has no way of knowing how his ministers are actually performing and has to rely on officials. The better officials will give fair assessments (and some ministers are awful). But the best government emerges from the clash between the political and official view. Not all officials appreciate that clash. On the reshuffle, remember Donoughue’s two laws of reshuffles expressed long ago: (1) They will always be later than forecast in the media. (2) They will always be smaller than forecast. So far No. 1 is again proven. We wait till Monday for No. 2.

Friday 24 July 1998 Off on a lovely morning to the big Game Fair at Stratfield Saye near Basingstoke. We toured various stands, with Honey all atremble with excitement at the smells. Met up with Iain McNicol of the CLA and he took us to lunch in the president’s tent. Sarah sat with the Duke of Wellington who she finds kind and interested in everything. Did another tour, with shooting and countryside things, and a stand where Honey went bananas attacking a stuffed fox. Visited bacon and cheese stalls to back up our campaigns. I had a dreary interview with Channel 4 about the ‘crisis in the countryside’. Amusingly we were interrupted by an

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appeal for a Ferrari owner to collect his lost keys and by the constant flow of personal helicopters to and from the fair. Not a crisis for absolutely everyone. Home by six to watch another England collapse against South Africa. This weekend we await the reshuffle.

Saturday 25 July 1998 Off to Ascot Diamond Day for the King George. Wonderful day and nice lunch with friends Will Wyatt and Peter O’Sullivan. Great racing. Back home to lie on the grass and read.

Sunday 26 July 1998 Morning more grey. Bought some extra newspapers for the reshuffle. All have new speculation that Jack will be the new Mr Fixer in the Cabinet Office, the job originally tailored for Mandelson. I phone him and say I would like to be his number two. Jack still hasn’t heard anything. I shall be very sorry if he goes and I am left at MAFF with a minister less congenial than Jack. That points to the end. I would love to go with him and be at the centre again; it would really suit my fascination with the Whitehall machine. But unlikely, since he really needs a man in the Commons to deal with the other Cabinet ministers and their ministers of state.

Monday 27 July 1998 Beginning of the last week of the session – and possibly my last day in office since the reshuffle is on today. I realise that I should have gone up to London last night to be there for when Jack is summoned. I got ready quickly and left at 9.15 am, as soon as the rush hour jams ease, and in by 10.15, but just missed Jack. He had an early meeting with Jeff, clearing all the office business hanging over – vitamin B6, badgers and TB, quarantine, raw milk – and was summoned to No. 10 just before I got there. Had a long talk with Jeff, who was nervous he might be sacked. He is the health hatchet man who is behind most of our food bans, which are ­unpopular with No. 10. I assure him he should be safe. He is superb. We are both nervous about a new minister coming in, innocent and ignorant, and completely in the hands of Packer, who must be rubbing his hands with glee at losing Jack. They won’t bother that they have lost a first-class minister.

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They prefer to have a third-class one they can control rather than a first-class one they cannot control. We agree that, whoever is appointed, we must get at him before the rats do. Jeff phoned his secretary and she already knew that the casualties were David Clarke, Harriet Harman, Strang and (from the Lords) Ivor Richard. And their replacements – Darling to DSS, Margaret Jay instead of Ivor as our leader. Plus Mandelson to Trade and Nick Brown coming to us, replaced by Ann Taylor as chief whip and Margaret Beckett (reported later in tears) moved to lead the Commons. It is clearly a Blairmodel reshuffle, with the Brown candidates (Margaret Beckett, Nick Brown and Strang) removed from key positions. Our private offices were empty, meeting secretly to prepare for the new regime. Jack returned and we joined him in his room. Tim was clearing the books and papers from his room into crates. Sadly, Cathy will depart because there is no detailed policy role where Jack is going, at the Cabinet Office – just ‘operating’. Jack told us the details. Tony had told him we had done ‘a superb job at Agriculture’ and he ‘wanted the rest of the team to stay in place to preserve continuity’. So Jeff and I are ‘safe’ – felt a twinge of disappointment that I won’t be going with Jack. Blair had first seen the casualties in the Commons, where the media would not be able to enjoy their pain. Then returned to No. 10 to make the appointments. Jack first, waiting in the Cabinet Room, reading Cromwell’s letters, until Tony called him through into his new inner room. He said, ‘It is a crucial job. You have to stop all this nonsense’ (the Brown–Mandelson briefings and counter briefings). ‘You alone will do the government’s briefings.’ Jack said that, in response, he said, ‘You have to demonstrate that this is your government, and you sack and promote who you want to. There is no room for sentiment at this level in politics.’ Jack will have Charlie Falconer as his number two (I was jealous at this since that is the job I would most like and am qualified to do. Charlie is clever, but knows nothing of Whitehall or politics). Jack will sit on all the key Cabinet committees and have access to No. 10 and handle the government’s PR. I am so pleased for him and so envious. Jack then went off to do his TV interviews looking happy and 10 years younger – though he again said he would have been happy to stay at MAFF ‘and see things through’. It became clear that officials had known that Nick Brown was coming here before Jack or we did. Lunched at the Lords on my own. Afterwards chatted with Helene Hayman, nervous she might replace Margaret Jay at Health and not sure she wanted it. Pat Hollis very jumpy now Frank Field has resigned, desperately

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hoping for promotion to his minister of state’s job, which she has worked hard for. Had half an hour with Tessa Blackstone in her room. She asked me if she should go to Tony and ask to be Deputy Leader in the Lords, which seemed open to her only a few years ago under Kinnock. I said be careful, since Blair might want Charlie Falconer and Margaret will want Gareth Williams; don’t want Tessa to be snubbed. Tried to persuade her to be content with the more important Education and the satisfaction of her definitely doing a good job there. Larry Whitty, who deserves to get a serious job, told me he knows Nick  Brown well. ‘No policy views on anything. He may react badly to demotion.’ Hmmmm. We sat glued before the TV or the ticker tape machine as the appointments and changes came through – a very febrile atmosphere everywhere, with even the Tories joining in and enjoying it. Helen Liddell has gone to the Scottish Office as Donald Dewar’s No. 2 to sort out our corrupt Scottish Labour Party and (hopefully) defeat the advancing Scot Nats – exactly the job she didn’t want. I wrote her a letter of congratulations and condolences. I note Geoffrey Robinson is not being moved. Probably a concession to Brown and recognition that he does a good job at the Treasury. Also good of the PM to resist the press sharks. Tony is also clearly rewarding loyalists and banishing the disloyal – exactly as I advised Alastair Campbell in my memo on ‘Strengthening the Centre’, though he would have done it anyway, otherwise the Centre would soon have fallen apart. After a vote, I went back to MAFF for our first meeting with the new minister. Nick seemed stunned by his change and his removal as chief whip. Must see it as punishment for being too close to Gordon. We went through the serious issues facing him (Jeff had already briefed him at the Commons before Packer could get at him). He remained silent throughout. He is short and square, almost squat, like a rugby front-row forward. He is said to be part of the original Gordon Brown network – Mandelson, Tom Clarke, Nick, dedicated bachelors. Even so, in the lift coming up, I asked straight out if he would forgive me for voting against the age of consent at 16. He looked a bit old-fashioned, but, oddly, said he had always opposed having that in the bill anyway. Interesting. He didn’t walk in and take control from the beginning as Jack would. Looked uncertain and uncomfortable and unconfident – as most would entering totally new territory with MAFF’s reputation for killing off ministers, where there is so much rural technical detail and he has a totally urban background. The civil servants will see this and try to control him.

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But he showed a good sense of humour, saying he had ‘only ever met two cows, and was not sure which end of one of them I met.’ After an edgy hour my division bell went, so I left, and with more divisions to come did not go back. Helene Hayman told me Prescott hadn’t wanted tough John Reid to replace Strang, so is annoyed. John won’t put up with Prescott’s bullying. Andrew Macintosh came in, visibly sweating with excitement. Had heard both ministers at Culture sacked – Mark Fisher and Tom Clarke – and he hopes to replace one of them, since he has done a good job as Culture whip in the Lords. I would like that too. Andrew was very angry about Mark’s sacking, saying he had done a good job. Graham Greene is not so sure, saying he had been completely sidelined by civil servants. Saw Denis Carter in the corridor and he told me Ivor Richards had only two minutes with Blair. TB said ‘I want to make a change.’ Ivor asked why. TB said ‘Because I want to make a change.’ Ivor asked who would replace him. TB said, ‘I can’t tell you that until I have made the person the offer.’ End. Ivor is apparently ‘very hurt and bitter’. Charlie Falconer confirmed he is to be Jack’s no. 2 and I told him I am jealous (will send him a copy of my book ‘Prime Minister’ about the centre of Whitehall). He asked me a lot about working with Wilson and Callaghan and is clearly hazy about Labour history and the workings of government, though a clever lawyer and nice man. Everyone is pleased for Jack. Journalists call him ‘the enforcer’, which suits him. The roster was on till the early hours and we voted after midnight. I went home excited but exhausted, looking forward to the break. Have no idea whether it rained or shone today, totally absorbed in the unfolding massacre and recreation.

Tuesday 28 July 1998 In for early official meeting on the Countess of Mar’s PQ on what legal advice we get on organophosphates. Our lawyers are petrified to reveal that we have not even asked for advice. I say no way will I lie to the House on this. Nice lunch at Amico’s with Andrew Higgins and Michael Claydon from the British Horse Society. They promised to create an umbrella of the ­fractured horse groups, then we can try to have a ministry to deal with them. Very active afternoon, backwards and forwards between meetings in MAFF and votes in the Lords. First meeting opened unpromisingly when

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it emerged that Nick was speaking to a paper which Jeff and I had not been given. We protested and copies were provided. Nick didn’t try to impose himself and readily admitted his ignorance. But was sharper and more impressive than yesterday. But he will be tested, having no country background. The test is whether he relies wholly on officials, or takes Jeff and Elliot’s experienced advice. A Lords vote, when we were beaten on the Scotland bill. After the division, had a chat with Tessa Blackstone, clearly depressed to find, as I found long ago, that the political world is passing her by. Excellent Gareth Williams is now the Deputy Leader. Under Kinnock she was ­virtually promised the leadership in the Lords had we won the 1992 ­election. She is wisely accepting that her best future is in doing a good job at Education. The junior parts of the reshuffle were unfolding throughout the afternoon. Great excitement, with groups of Labour peers gathered around the ticker tapes or before the TV screens, or gathered in the corridors gossiping. Helene Hayman is now delighted to leave Prescott’s ‘mad world’ at Environment for Health. Andrew Macintosh looked glum, physically shaken and almost in tears to be overlooked again. Andrew at 65 has little hope now. He will soldier on ably as deputy whip – though Denis told me he cannot tell Andrew anything because of his ­tendency for chattering to the gossip press and a weakness for believing the lies in Private Eye. But really Andrew’s fatal sin was to upset Jack Straw in opposition and fail to move with our law and order policy; he remained frozen in a 1960s Liberal time warp, where all that mattered was ‘rights’, not responsibilities, and everyone was a ‘victim’, even the murderers and paedophiles. He never recovered from that, missing out on the new message and project of New Labour. Liz Symons looked glum and said she was depressed at ‘the thought of years ahead at the FCO with my officials deceiving me and the Foreign Secretary locked in permanent conflict with his permanent secretary, John Kerr’. Patricia Hollis looked even more glum at the massive changes at Social Security. Both Harriet and Frank Field gone, but she, who knows it all technically and does a lot of the detailed grind, still left down the bottom of the ladder as a parly under-secretary – like Liz and me. John Gilbert was beaming at still being in office at 72. Curious anyone of that age still WANTS to be in office. For myself, I felt very flat. Like Liz, I see acres of time ahead at boring old MAFF, more of the same. but less pleasurable because Jack is no longer

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there. Now I have just a minister instead of a friend. Also feels odd to be still a lowly parly secretary when all the new and young ones with little political experience are ministers of state. Not worried by either the status or the money. But it is a painful public sign that time is passing me by. I am beached in a lowly position in a marginal department. But should count my blessings because at least I have been kept on and not publicly sacked, which I have seen is very painful and humiliating. It will be better to choose my own time of going. But am clearly disappointed not to get the job either as Jack’s no. 2 or at the Arts. Perhaps I should have asked. That is what Jim  Callaghan always said – ‘You never get anywhere without asking.’ But am no good at that. At 6.00 pm went upstairs to the big conference room for Jack’s farewell party; I was the first to arrive. Jack arrived beaming. I chatted with lovely Cathy, who is now leaving us, collecting her three months’ redundancy payment, which I first negotiated when head of the special advisers in 1974. Jack said he has written to all the Agriculture ministers to say goodbye. Kate Timms looked very sad to lose him from Europe. She said the Italian minister Pinto had phoned to send a very emotional message of goodbye saying that Jack had become a close personal friend. Loyola must have retreated to her Spanish nunnery to pray and weep. I slipped away early. Went over to Derry Irvine’s Lord Chancellor’s apartment for a party. Sarah came, looking lovely in her new green dress. I chatted to old friends Jack Ashley and Alf Morris, ghosts from our earlier life in government fighting for the disabled, and to Gerry Monkswell, one of our rare Labour hereditaries, who kindly praised my style without notes at the dispatch box. Derry thought Charlie Falconer is taking a big risk in going with Jack to the Cabinet Office. ‘He had a great position as Solicitor General. He could now easily get isolated in the Cabinet Office, with no power and no real job to do, all the departments trying to ignore him’. Shrewd. Chatted with Derry’s distinguished new adviser, Gary Hart, who is hostile to the press and believes in a law of privacy. Then downstairs to the Barry Room for pleasant dinner with Sarah, her sister Susan and husband Colin. He is pleased his presidency of the MCC is coming to an end. Much more politics in it than he expected. Home exhausted at 11.00 pm. Woke at 3.00 am, tense, head spinning and unable to sleep, so I wrote the notes up for this. So much happening this week that could never remember it all without notes.

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Wednesday 29 July 1998 Had a quick ministers’ meeting. Then adjourned to Jeff ’s room. Discussed badgers and began to develop an alternative strategy that would not look like doing nothing for five years. I raised the question of the inquiry into the MAFF press office, which officials will hope to bury now Jack has gone. Bizarre Yes Minister episode. I asked for Nick Brown’s home address so I could write to congratulate him. His office declined to give it to me. Then I asked for his home telephone number. Again they declined, recommending me to ‘contact him through the No. 10 switchboard’. This is my minister. You would think I was threatening to burgle him! Bought my holiday reading – especially Beevor’s Stalingrad. Returned to nice lunch reception in the Durbar Courtyard at the FCO, given by Liz Symons. John Kerr, the FCO permanent secretary, came over to me and said, ‘You must get rid of your permanent secretary.’ I told him how we had tried. Jack had talked to Blair at the beginning. I had talked to Robin Butler, who said the problem was finding an alternative slot for him. Kerr said ‘It has got beyond finding something else for him. He has to be got rid of.’ He has spoken to Richard Wilson, Robin’s successor, about it. Perhaps something will happen over the summer. Curious, they think a mere parly secretary, like me, can achieve something that all the permanent secretaries and Cabinet secretaries cannot. Margaret Jay came over for a friendly chat. Said, ‘I do hope you will stay. Please don’t go’. She has obviously heard of my detachment. She said Ivor had done nothing to advance Lords reform and that is a priority for her. When giving her the job, Blair forgot to mention that she is also the minister for women. ‘That shows how important he thinks it is!’, she said. She has an office with the Lord Privy Seal and asked me to advise her on ‘the Whitehall thing’. (Mark Marlesford stood near and helpfully said, ‘Well, Bernard knows more about that than anybody.’) She will be very good, a natural leader, like her dad. Nipped back to Belgravia for a necessary haircut, another close cut, and back to late lunch alone in the Lords. Had a long talk with Denis Carter. Shocked at Ivor’s sacking – didn’t expect it. Obviously made him nervous for his own position. Denis said he was very tired at the end of an exhausting term. Last night he lost his temper for the first time. Agree the reshuffle was a most impressive political operation. Blair is a pro. Spent the afternoon wandering around chatting. We in the Lords are the true chattering classes. Later saw Ivor Richard in the library, still shocked by his sacking. Said, ‘I never had an inkling I would be sacked.’ I said, ‘Politics is not fair. Blair wanted to promote MJ and so had to create a space.’

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Ivor’s customary summer end-of-term party was at 5.30 pm in his leader’s room, but he of course was absent, and Margaret Jay was away at the Palace becoming a Privy Counsellor. She will be a ruthless leader but I hope our friendship continues. Michael Cocks and John Gilbert were both ­expressing shock at the number of new Labour peers who have no history in the Labour Party and no prospect of contributing anything to us in the Lords. It is really outrageous, a glitzy gathering of rich contributors and the politically correct carers for minorities and single-issue groups. Especially when there are so many loyal and able Labour stalwarts who don’t get in, but would vote for us late every night. Maybe Blair is deliberately bringing the Lords into disrepute as a prelude to reforming it. A cunning plan, as Baldrick would say. I stood alone on Ivor’s balcony outside, for fresh air, and admiring the magnificent statue of King Richard and the nearly cleaned, delicate end of Westminster Abbey. Chatted with whips office secretary, Murdo Maclean, who says Nick Brown is very good – another on the bachelor network. I still feel flat. Denis Carter said I should have fed my wish for the Arts to Alastair Campbell. Will next time – though there won’t be a next time.

Thursday 30 July 1998 The able lady who is doing the report on our press and information department came in to see me. She had asked for meetings with ministers to be arranged a month ago but – surprise, surprise – nothing appeared in our diaries. So when Jack left I realised that MAFF would want the inquiry quietly buried. I phoned her direct to arrange to see her and also told her to fix up to see Jeff. She told me that her report would call for drastic changes. The culture of secrecy is terrible and the two men at the top are not good enough, with no sense of a media strategy. Told me that the regional press officers are not much good either – and when she saw them, all but one of their bosses insisted on sitting in, to deter any critical comment. With Sarah to lovely lunch in terrace marquee for Jim Callaghan’s 60th wedding anniversary. 120 people. Only about a dozen peers, including Labour veterans Jenkins, Healey, Foot, Longford, Cledwyn, Merlyn  Rees and (surprisingly, showing old wounds healed) Barbara Castle. Then Ivor Richard, Tom Macnally and myself, with daughter Margaret from the ‘younger’ (i.e., under 66) generation. Mainly old family friends, like Monty, his doctor from No. 10, and some who had flown especially from America. Lots of young Jays and Callaghans, towering tall above everybody else. Sunny day on the Thames outside and nice end-of-term buzz.

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Margaret made a typically clear, punchy and unsentimental speech. Then son Mike, who I recall running the 1979 election campaign, gave a gentler and sensitive piece about his parents. Jim spoke amusingly and with great affection for Audrey, saying they still loved one another as much as when they met at 16. He has shrunk in the past few years and is now smaller than me, whereas he used to tower 4 inches above. I sat between Tom Macnally and Ivor Richard. Ivor was still edgy about his dismissal. Margaret told me they had a very frosty meeting when he handed over the leadership to her. Tom Macnally was in his usual amusing form. He recalled when the two of us went to see Jim as PM to persuade him to sack Tony Benn. Jim shrewdly said, ‘Never send to the back benches a man who is still young and ambitious enough to do you damage.’ Also when he sacked Barbara Castle, it was fixed for 11.20 am with the next appointment firmly at 11.30 so she could be hurried out before she got into her full nagging stride. But she wouldn’t shift and was still there at 1.15 pm, refusing to be sacked. When we went into the Cabinet Room to see him after she had been finally prised out, Jim was standing by the Cabinet table, his knuckles white and pressed to the table edge. He said, ‘I never want to go through anything like that in my life again.’ Said she asked ‘Why?’ He said because I want to appoint younger people. She said ‘Then why not sack yourself?’ Gordon Brown was there at the table with Margaret. I went up to them and gave him my letter. It sets out the case for saving half-a-million by abolishing the tax concession on ‘red diesel’, which for some distant historical reason is sold tax-free to the construction industry, farmers and the railways. The farmers won’t thank me for that, but I would rather the money is there for the health service than for the cereal barons of East Anglia. We wait and see if I get any acknowledgement. None ever before. My Sarah looked stunning and happy. She sat between Roy Jenkins (another old Jim enemy back in the friendly fold) who she found a ‘bit pompous’, and Frank Longford. Frank’s fly zip was undone with his shirt tail poking through like a substitute willie. There were food droppings down his battered old suit and he dribbled into a ragged shirt undone at the collar. He had shaved around his mouth but no lower, leaving his neck a furry wrinkle. He looked like a batty ancient scientist. But he is still at 93 remarkably on the ball, delightfully keeping Sarah in lively gossip. He told her he was delighted I had gone fully into Catholicism and that I should be higher in the government. Also, that I was, like him, ‘clearly Irish’. He told her off for not marrying me, as that would be ‘good for my career’. She enjoyed it greatly. I am very fond of him

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and will miss him when he drops off the peg, which at times he looked like doing, closing his eyes and dozing as if beginning to explore the next and final move. Back to MAFF for a good meeting of ministers to discuss our whole policy agenda. Nick Brown was quite impressive: quick and quite funny. He was flanked by his two special advisers, whose names I still haven’t grasped. Like two court dancers around a medieval king. The marginally older one, always on the right, is very dark with Brylcreamed black hair, Rudolph Valentino style. The younger is tall and sensitive looking, sitting primly like a Covent Garden ballet apprentice. Neither said a word. No doubt they make their contributions to Nick at more personal times. I warned him about the information department inquiry; he immediately asked to see the inquiry lady. And about the dog quarantine report, where the department’s wish to take five years implementing it won’t stand up once it is published that there is absolutely no extra scientific health risk in switching quickly to a new system. We broke and I went back to the Lords to clear a very big red box, containing bad news about possible BSE in sheep. Chatted with Helene Hayman, happy to be moving away from mad Prescott to the more rational and amusing world of Dobson and Health. Tessa Blackstone arrived looking very pretty and elegantly dressed and we agreed to have supper even though the whip was up. She was agitated about a nasty piece by the reptilian Quentin Letts in the New Statesman. Vicious about all the Labour Lords, especially Ivor, Tessa, Margaret Jay and Patricia. Ignored me. Only person he praised was Andrew Macintosh – usual journalist code that he was a source. Supper down in the Home Room, with Margaret Jay joining us. Margaret is going to see Blair at noon tomorrow, presumably to discuss Lords reform, which is still in a mess. The press is saying that MJ will be ‘more emollient’ and compromising. Balls. She is very radical, with total impatience for the old conventions and style of the Lords. But of course Blair might tell her, like us and most other departmental ministers who contemplate any kind of radical reform, that she must be ‘inclusive’ and do nothing to upset the Cranbornes of this world. Hope not. At least Margaret is tough enough to tell him no. Margaret told us funny stories of Blair’s cock-ups in the reshuffle, especially concerning Northern Ireland. Tessa was on nice form and remembered visiting Col de Bousseills with Joe Rogaly, when I loaned it to them – it was very primitive then but she said ‘it was beautiful’. The whip was up but I stayed to enjoy these two powerful ladies relaxing together.

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Friday 31 July 1998 Maggie and Simon arrived and we went to Wiltshire to visit Helen Browning’s impressive organic farm. Walked along a lovely valley with wild flowers on the side; saw a nice herd of organic cows and calves, clearly happy and healthy. Made me feel better about the world.

Saturday 1 August 1998 Early lunch then off to Gatwick. Look forward to time away without too much MAFF. But this has been a stupendous week. Real political excitements, like long ago, even if on the fringe.

August 1–15 Céret, France Unending beautiful weather, too hot for me, temperature in the 90s. I spent much of the time lying on the terrace reading in the shade of our magnificent mulberry tree (no cicadas disturbing me, as I shot them two years ago). Read an Elmore Leonard, three Patrick O’Brians, Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’, ‘Captain Corelli’s Mandolin’ (overwritten and sentimental, but brilliant on the Nazi massacre of the poor Italian soldiers on the Greek islands in 1943). Also Schlink’s fine but depressing The Reader and started Beevor’s magnificent ‘Stalingrad’. Enjoyed all that. My familiar daily routine is first a walk down to the village to buy the bread and now the Telegraph – clearly a better newspaper abroad than The Times because it has more hard news. Sarah drives down, shops and takes me 2 km back up the hill home when it becomes too hot to walk. But in the final week I just sat on the terrace and read, breaking to look over the lovely valley and hills to towering Canigou. Light lunch outside and then a long siesta. The high point of the holiday for me was the final Thursday night visit to have dinner with novelist Patrick O’Brian in Collioure. A delicious dinner and I was very excited since I have now read 13 of his novels about Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin in the Napoleonic wars. O’Brian is 85, a short and slim old-fashioned gentleman, with boyish hair. He is becoming frail and clearly saddened by the recent death of his wife, but has a quick smile, and his fiercely bright dark eyes light up when a topic of interest arises – such as how to find rare mushrooms in the locality. His English accent is strange, precise and prissy, like a 1930s film dialogue. Resident in Collioure for 52 years, he has not been exposed to the mid-Atlanticism that has drawled into the modern British speech.

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He was very reluctant to talk about himself. But revealed that as a teenager he sailed on a square rig ship across the oceans, including the Roaring Forties, with an unidentified rich man who took a dozen youths on his yacht. He found it great fun and the basis of his books, though ‘terrifying in the storms’. He learned all about rigging a sailing ship, but didn’t learn about navigation until later. Refused to talk about his time in intelligence because ‘I signed a big oath.’ He lived in poverty in Collioure for many years after the war, but has lately been feted throughout the world by his rich reader fans. Most clear was that he loves to be part of the old English establishment and old English life. Loves his clubs – Brooks’ and Pratt’s – and is keen to come with me for lunch at the Lords – ‘must be wonderful to be a Lord’. We discussed books. He is proud of his first editions. Likes to read over and again Jane Austen, Samuel Johnson and Pope. The eighteenth century suits him. Thinks Wodehouse ‘occasionally funny but terribly thin’ and that Dickens has ‘a curiously twisted mentality’. He adores Roussillon, but said, ‘truth is a very rare commodity here’ – exactly my experience. He wanted us to meet again. I will try to arrange it. He is a very special, classy antique. He cannot last much longer writing a thousand words a day. I felt he would slowly fade away now his wife has gone. He kindly signed my copy of volume one, ‘Master and Commander’, which I read in Céret in 1994. Drove home at one in the morning, tired but pleased. The most wonderful part of returning home was the reception from Honey. She went absolutely berserk when we arrived, running in mad circles and leaping up at us in high twisting jumps. Such a simple pleasure and really a new one for me, not having had a dog before. It was not even diminished by the terrible news of 28 dead in a horrific Northern Ireland Republican bombing. There is no doubt that Honey is a far more worthy member of the planet race than these evil terrorists.

Sunday 16 August 1998 Perfect summer day back at Fox’s Walk, sunshine, not too hot. Read the papers and two red boxes of boring agriculture chaos. But MAFF is clearly moribund. Nick Brown due soon off on a South American jaunt for five weeks. I have to sign all his letters.

Monday 17 August 1998 In my red box was a memo from Packer saying he is opposed to doing anything about getting the horse industry into MAFF. Typically negative. He is

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not interested in anything new, anything outside his old range of farm production payments, and not interested in developing MAFF in new areas so it can avoid the otherwise inevitable decline and windup of the department. My secretary, Simon, said Packer deliberately waited until I was away in France before issuing the memo, hoping it would be ticked by Nick without me there to question it.

Tuesday 18 August 1998 Overnight, President Clinton admitted he had had some sort of affair with Lewinsky. She will make millions out of her memoirs. Clinton does seem a pretty shabby private person. But he is a successful President and should never have been put in this position over his private life. Had he lied over a matter of state or policy that would have been different. But his private life is his affair. The French understand that distinction better than the prissy Anglo Saxons. Maggie drove me early up to London and then I took the train to York for a wonderful visit, terrific racing, lovely weather and great Irish company. This is the most happy meeting of the year. Lots of friendly North Country racegoers. Wonderful course. I went straight to the Irish box. There was Joe Walsh, Irish minister, Dennis Brosnan of Kerry Foods, Mick O’Toole the trainer and the rich owners Michael Tabor and John Magnier. Others dropped in, including Aidan O’Brien, the great young trainer, and Alex Ferguson, the Manchester United manager, who had a horse running (beaten favourite). It was great that all the Irish wives followed the racing intelligently and knew the horses – probably a precondition of lasting marriage. The atmosphere was warm and wonderful throughout.

Wednesday 19 August 1998 Another glorious morning. Today had lunch with the York racecourse management. Then to the Tote box where son Stephen was having lunch. Joe Walsh was missing, back to Dublin for an emergency Cabinet on how to deal with the terrorists who slaughtered 28 in Omagh. Earlier, I had asked Joe what his personal policy was on dealing with the IRA. ‘Eliminate the vermin,’ he said quietly. I would go with that. I left before the last race, walked to town in the fine sunshine, York looking so pretty now. Very hot evening in London. News still all about the appalling bomb in Omagh. The Real IRA has announced its ceasefire, seeing the universal hostility to its atrocity. Bertie Ahern was on the TV

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announcing stiff anti-terrorist measures in the Republic, much tougher than us. Joe Walsh must have had his way.

Thursday 20 August 1998 To the department to see Nick Brown. His mother is seriously ill, leading him to cancel his South America expedition. We had an excellent and very encouraging talk for over an hour. Ranged over the whole MAFF field. On quarantine, I pressed him to move quickly now we had the scientific report. He is completely on board. Will write to Blair suggesting we start the experiment soon. On farm incomes, sees there is nothing he can do, but intends to talk more sympathetically than Jack did and go out and listen. But says Jack’s position was correct in principle and we won’t renege on that. Expressed strong support for my campaign on British speciality foods. Liked my scheme for getting the big food retailers to sponsor village shops – I said he must aim to have saved a few hundred by the next election. He is most concerned about the future of the department. Can see that it is declining steadily into windup. Would like to recover the Food Standards Agency to the department, but I warn him it is too late for that. So wants more focus on foods and on rural affairs. Accepts we cannot fight Prescott to take rural turf from him – and the Meacher problem. So ‘won’t mention environment’. Talk constructively of rural affairs, and rural society and the rural economy. I also briefed him on my plans for the Horse. He encouraged me to go on – hopefully that scuppers Packer’s negativism. So I will organise my horse conference, and Simon was thrilled when I told him. Nick said he liked my memos to Jack on these subjects, copies of which I sent him on Monday. He said he had a letter from Blair telling him to press ahead on the rural affairs issue. Blair also told him on appointment that it was not his wish to wind up MAFF, but he said ‘wish’, not that he wouldn’t do it. We both agreed that we could make a good case for winding it up, especially given how it has been run. He is also very concerned at MAFF’s bad relations with the rest of Whitehall. He has already refused to sign a vicious letter to the Treasury. I also told him of the bad history of our relations with the Scottish Office, where apparently Packer had ordered officials not to talk to them. Crazy. We are not big enough for that kind of bureaucratic machismo. I liked the way Nick thinks politically about these issues. Seeing that the farmers are always Tory and cannot be won, but there are others in the

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countryside who can be. He wants us to get out and meet people. Well, with four three-line whips a week that is not too easy! He said he is very pleased with his team and that Jack had praised it to him. He said Gordon Brown is ‘in a black mood’ after the reshuffle, which was wholly directed against him. And ‘Blair saw me as just Gordon’s lieutenant, so I paid for that.’ An encouraging start. On Northern Ireland, the Irish gang at York were all full of praise for Blair and Mo Mowlam. Say they have the full support across all parties in Dublin. They all wanted the return of detention for terrorists without trial. Modern Ireland has changed. They are living decent lives and don’t want all this historic Republican violence.

Saturday 22 August 1998 Only a week since we left France, but it seems an age away. Weather lovely though strong breeze. Paul arrived with a van to collect Sarah’s old kitchen – cannot think where he will put it, or even how he will carry it up the stairs. We spent hours loading up. I was exhausted afterwards and slept long under the honeysuckle after lunch. Paul was in great form and always a pleasure to see him – since, alone of all the young, he always brings Sarah flowers. Like my father he has good manners. Dad always said that good manners don’t cost anything.

Sunday 23 August 1998 I finished Beevor’s Stalingrad. What an incredible story. The Russians had four times as many killed there as Britain lost in the whole war, and the Germans more. Titanic struggle with men reduced to animals, fighting in the sewers or freezing on the Steppes. No battle on the Western Front was as intense as more than a fraction of it. Clearly Hitler’s maniacal interference lost it. But really the Germans had lost once they didn’t get through in the first push of 1941. They started too late, because it had to be won before the winter. They got to the gates of Moscow, Leningrad and Stalingrad, but captured none of them. Once they got none of those, and had not prepared for a winter, it was really lost. Hitler split his forces. Had he concentrated on one of the targets, he would have got it, and Stalin might have collapsed. Had he not sent armies into the Caucus, he would have got Stalingrad. But he wanted all. Despite all the experience of Napoleon, Hitler didn’t seem to understand the vast scale of Russia. And the endless military resources available. The Germans killed and captured millions,

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but there were still millions to come. It is not possible to capture Russia by conventional warfare over a long campaign. The only way is Hitler’s sudden blitzkrieg, which brings a total collapse. But for that to work it needs six months of campaigning, not four, and a concentrated strike, not split, with more total forces than he provided. The German High Command deserved what they got for abdicating control to such an amateur maniac. But a terrific book.

Monday 24 August 1998 Started my lovely Folio edition of Nicholas Nickleby. Not comfortable at first. Dickens seems so old-fashioned, his characters outlandish. But begin to get into it. The sheer detail of the story-telling gets me, and the irony and satire. But nearly everybody is depressingly nasty.

Tuesday 25 August 1998 Evening at terrific Oklahoma. We gathered at the National Theatre – Rachel, looking uncharacteristically smart in the jacket I bought her at Harvey Nicks 10 years ago; Kate, Stephen and Paul; niece Tania looking very elegant and pleased to get a break from the disasters of being unemployed at 44; and Sasha looking gorgeous and excited at going off to Céret tomorrow. The show was wonderfully uplifting. Even the young (mine aged 29–44) enjoyed it. The dancing was delightful, choreography influenced by the great Hollywood dancing style of Astaire, Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor. Sarah was rapturous and wept constantly, a sign she is happy.

Wednesday 26 August 1998 Looking forward to my Cornwall trip. Took the Gatwick train and then the lunchtime funny plane to Newquay via Penzance. Drove to a wonderful Cornish pasty factory. Off then to the Real Cornish Clotted Creamery, where I ate too many buns with jam and cream; and on to an old little brewery. Drank a large pint of their real ale and began to worry about my waistline down here.

Thursday 27 August 1998 Woke to a glorious sunny day. Drove down to St Ives and first visited the Tate Gallery there. Some terrific Patrick Heron and Patrick Lanyon and Kit Wood. Also a painter named Wells, who I ignorantly had not seen before

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but much impressed me. The most striking point is standing inside the front glass gallery and seeing the reflections of the greeny-blue sea in the gallery. Great to be back in the Arts. St Ives also attracted me. It would be nice to rent a house for Christmas there. To lunch with the NFU, CLA and TGWU at a nice hotel near Penzance, looking over the sands and outgoing tide towards St Michael’s Mount. The NFU chairman was very pleasant, as was the sweet little man from the TGWU. We covered a lot of ground during delicious food (local produce, as I always insist). Particularly farm safety – there have been a lot of accidents and I want to launch a joint campaign to educate farm workers on safety. They were all interested and positive. The difference between my real relations with the farming community and the picture painted in the farming media is enormous. Took a train back after lunch, which wandered through the sunshine, late as always. And no refreshments for the first two-and-a-half hours since the staff were unable to get into the locked buffet – the joys of privatisation.

Saturday 29 August 1998 Restful day. Read papers, where world stock markets are collapsing and making us all much poorer. Russia drifting back to Communism because its people don’t have the enterprise to run a free enterprise system – though effective at running a criminal system.

Sunday 30 August 1998 Joe Haines is still progressing with his book on Wilson. Then we have to find a serious publisher interested in British political history, if any still exist; most are now owned by Americans and run by accountants for balance sheet priorities. Finished the day with the first part of a good long western film, Once Upon a Time in the West.

Monday 31 August 1998 Lovely bank holiday. I am really becoming fit, with tennis and Honey walks every day. Watched rest of the good cowboy film in the evening. Realise I like cowboy films because (a) the good guys win; (b) they are loners with beautiful horses; (c) the scenery is so lovely; (d) they are always delightfully politically incorrect; and (e) I like the way they settle personal accounts, swiftly and decisively.

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No politics around, except Clinton has gone to Moscow to see Yeltsin – two wounded wide boys in their last-chance saloon. Yeltsin looks like a drunken automaton. Clinton has bags under his eyes like kangaroo pouches. Hillary’s power pact with him is Faustian.

Tuesday 1 September 1998 Markets still collapsing and Wall Street down 500 points. London now down nearly 20 per cent, so we are all poorer. Read hundreds more pages of Nicholas Nickleby. It is the energy of the story that sweeps one along – more stories in one book than in the life work of most modern novelists. But the ­characters are all either very white or very black, and they deliver long dramatic speeches rather than speak real conversation. Sat up quite late ploughing on.

Wednesday 2 September 1998 The Irish process accelerates, with lots of prisoners released and the IRA virtually saying that ‘the war is over’ – at least for the leadership, if not for some of their psychopath members. Went for supper with David Montgomery. Good chat about Ulster, where David has been advising Trimble, persuading him he must play the statesman and announce he would ­ welcome the IRA into the peace process. Trimble will finally do it, but is still a provincial Prod politician. He also says that Blair is looking and acting exhausted and that all the emotional Princess Di style is beginning to ­irritate people. Agree with that. He doesn’t have the stamina for the long-run as PM. You need to be like teak, as Jim and Harold were. Need to pace it and not to get too involved in all the issues. Blair’s emotional involvement, as in Ireland, is exhausting. He is always cajoling, mobilising, persuading, using his moral energy to push the machine and people uphill, often against their instincts. He will give up sometime and go off to earn lots of money. Then somebody like Brown, with much more stamina, will slip in.

Thursday 3 September 1998 Anniversary of the start of World War II, but don’t expect anyone to remember. Went in early to launch our speciality food seminar. A real success. This is an excellent growth area, where nobody whinges, nobody asks for government money and everybody gets on with the job of growing

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their businesses in a competitive market. I targeted it early on as an area worth supporting. So I give them as much support as possible. I returned for lunch and enjoyed meeting dozens of business owners, often young, who came up to chat. We had arranged to serve English food and wine. Good for morale to be involved in something as positive as that. Afternoon at the Lords for the terrorism bill, going through all stages in one day. Had a good meeting with Margaret Jay, discussing how she runs the Lords team. Agree to draft a memo for her, and write this up later. She is very clear, shrewd, fairly ruthless (sacking Ivor Richard’s support team), but treating me as part of the Callaghan family. It might keep me on a little longer. I also sent her a note on Lords reform, including my proposal for the hereditaries to be able to elect a group of their own to serve as life peers in the reformed House. In the evening our whips began to get nervous that we might be beaten on the terrorist bill. The Commons team prepare to come in at eight tomorrow morning to reject and pingpong any Lords amendments. I didn’t believe it would happen. Our whips operate in a mode of permanent worst scenario. In fact the second reading and the committee stage went on until well after one in the morning. But no votes, so it all went through. What was nice was Margaret’s supper party. The House restaurants were still closed for the recess, so she sent out for lots of huge pizzas and summoned the team into her room to eat them with lots of wine. Very jolly atmosphere.

Saturday 5 September 1998 Interesting phone call from Clive Hollick. He is unsure whether Mandelson will keep him on as special adviser. Clive says Peter is ‘a star gazer’. Worships the Murdochs. So, distant with Clive, who treats Murdoch as a hostile competitor. Clive says Peter’s main concern is not the substance of policy, which is what concerns Clive, but always presentation. He is obsessed with media coverage of himself, being constantly in touch with journalists trying to secure that. They are made for one another. Clive is mainly concerned to get changes in the present media rules, devised by the Tories to help Murdoch. But Blair won’t want to upset Murdoch.

Sunday 6 September 1998 Packed for Russia tomorrow. Ought to be excited, first visit and near revolution there.

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Monday 7 September 1998 Maggie and Simon collected me at 7.00 am for Gatwick. Most of the day passed in the air, with me reading a collection of Graham Greene essays. Got to St Petersburg late. Went straight to open a new bakery on the dreary southern outskirts, run by a brave Welsh lady, who is beginning to have doubts now that her flour goes up in price every day and she has only four days’ supply. But cheerful people. In the evening we had planned a grand hotel dinner with two Russian bigwigs, but they didn’t arrive. They are the food controllers for Petersburg and were holding an emergency meeting to discuss how to feed the city in the winter. Shades of the 1941–42 siege. It occurred to me that they should ask the German tourists to encircle the city and this would revive the city citizens’ spirit of that siege. Our team ate a delicious dinner of sturgeon with several vodkas. Afterwards took the Range Rover on a night tour of the city, especially the beautiful squares and Nevsky Prospect river front. But the road surfaces are appalling, pockmarked with holes, so the vehicle bounces around and my supper was nearly dislodged. They have not resurfaced in 30 years, they told us.

Tuesday 8 September 1998 Had little sleep and woke – 5.00 am body time – feeling ragged for my 64th birthday. But opened lovely birthday cards from Sarah and Honey, which cheered me. Began with a heavy meeting with their food committee. They were interested only in specific food aid, and ended by giving me a wish list of the food they must have. The region is running out and they have no public funds to buy any. The rouble is falling 10 per cent a day and is now 60 per cent below its July level, so their imports are ceasing. Very gloomy. Pleased to get away to the Hermitage Museum, which was stunningly beautiful, beyond my dreams. Not only the building, fronting on the vast Niva River, but the lovely collections of Renaissance and Rembrandt paintings, and the treasures of antique gold jewellery in the special guarded chambers. Very Russian was the queue of bedraggled claimants waiting in the outer offices to see the Director. Everyday Russia is dismal. Walked from the Hermitage down the Niva River front and across an elegant fine bridge to an island which houses the old stock exchange and to a classy restaurant – with a British manager and said to be owned by the

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Mafia – for lunch with British businessmen. The day was glittering bright and the Petersburg vista was superb, like an eighteenth-century painting, pure Canaletto, the river wide, the buildings low and classical, in beautiful proportions. Moored were a three-masted barque and the famous battleship that fired (blanks) at the storming of the Winter Palace, which overthrew the Czar. I loved it. Made one forget the deep potholes in the road and the Emergency Food committee meeting to plan how to feed the city this winter. At the lunch, they all whinged about the incompetence of the Russian government and asked me to tell it to pull its socks up. I told them I would do nothing of the kind. From there by car to the port, where we opened the new exhibition of British goods. The Governor of Leningrad province (they keep the old name for the surrounding province, no doubt hedging their political bets against the return of a Communist government) made an impressive speech ­thanking us for supporting them and saying he guaranteed they would not renege on their debts (normally a clear ‘sell’ signal). There was a huge crowd on the quayside and a lovely brass band. Nice for me was when the band played ‘Happy Birthday’ – and I walked over to conduct them. Perhaps better, they might have played the Beatles ‘When I’m 64’, which for the Fab 4 indicated the end of all life. Perhaps it is – but really enjoying this visit. On the way back, visited a Catholic church and walked the beautiful Palace square, with the front of the Winter Palace down one side, ornate and baroque, and the even more impressive classical military barracks opposite. Must be one of the most beautiful city squares in the world, spacious, light and lovely buildings at every view. I suspect that Petersburg is much the nicest part of Russia. It is the most Western, having been founded by Peter the Great to open up Russia to the West via its then only Baltic port. Back in the hotel I watched the BBC and CNN reporting that Russia ‘is collapsing into chaos’ and that there are ‘endless queues for food and foreign currency’. We toured Petersburg for two days and never saw a single queue for anything. Did see food shops with only a little food, and with no queues. The journalists, as with the Clinton/Lewinsky sex scandal, have their own agenda. They want Russia to collapse so they can have a few more headlines and bylines. Ditto they want Clinton impeached. Nowhere did I see or read a media piece that actually represented the Russian situation as it is – serious, but solid and undemonstrative. The giveaway was when one BBC clip showed the Russians, allegedly today, fighting at a bank to withdraw their currency – and they were all wearing fur coats and hats with fur flaps. The temperature this week has been over 25°C and we have all been taking our jackets off – and this is in the far north. Fraudulent.

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The supper reception was in a handsome building named the Architects Building, sumptuous with gilt decorations and chandeliers. Marvellous food and drink. Hard to believe there is a crisis – or that, 45 years ago, it was under German siege for three years. The restoration has been superb. Afterwards, we refused the limo and walked back for 40 minutes right across town, beside the canals and down wide streets. Much of it is still scruffy, but overall a lovely city. Back in the hotel, I asked Simon to produce a memo for Nick Brown setting out what we could do in food aid if Petersburg has a crisis this winter. He was positive, though we all know that the wider department will be wholly against action. It is against any action on anything anywhere. I have had no media coverage at all, not a single press release at all. MAFF apparently believes that the visit of its food minister to Russia in the middle of a major food crisis is of no interest whatsoever. Nothing their ministers do is of any interest to MAFF – though often of irritation to them.

Wednesday 9 September 1998 Another brilliantly sunny warm day. First walked to the Metro with Olga, our impressive interpreter. She took me down long stretches of escalators to the bowels of the city. Huge high station down there with wonderful baroque decorations on the older parts and bulky Stalinist carvings on the new. Wide airy trains and great streaming crowds, who pay virtually nothing, one-tenth of what Londoners pay for an infinitely inferior railway. Communism managed to do a few things better, mainly the big public utilities. Visited the oldest brewery in Russia, founded by the English Cazalet family in the eighteenth century. Fairly drab and battered. But they served a wonderful feast, delicious beer, with caviar and crayfish – and this at ten in the morning. The beer here costs about one rouble wholesale – about 3 p. Could sell in Britain at over a pound. On the way to the airport we called at the Siege Museum. Built under a great roundabout near the closest point the German guns came from the south. Remarkable experience. Good old film of the siege and military relics. Very moving. They opened it especially for me – and certainly the staff have not been paid for some time. The flight to pretty Tallinn, in Estonia, over the glistening Baltic with brilliant sunshine illuminating the whole shoreline and the islands in the sea. Drove straight from the tiny airport to the splendid residence of our Ambassador, overlooking the sea towards Helsinki 70 kilometres away, and

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then went to see their impressive foreign minister. We had an excellent talk on the nature of the European Union, which the Ambassador said was one of the best he had heard. He said Estonia is in the British pragmatic tradition, which is why she has recovered so quickly from the depredations of 40 years of Russian Communist tyranny. They are an impressive people. Afterwards, walked around the lovely old town, shepherded by the Ambassador. It had originally been in the Hanseatic League and was then sold to the Teutonic Order. The late mediaeval buildings are well preserved without being over-tarted. Some Scots, who came out for a football game, have stayed on to set up raucous bars, but despite their worst endeavours don’t seem to have ruined the style and good manners of the town. That is the kind of Western inward investment they could do without. In bed, I read a historical pamphlet on the British involvement in the Estonian war for independence against the Russian Reds in 1918–20. Our navy kept the Russian fleet at bay and lost a few ships. Gives us a special place in their history – which we should cultivate.

Thursday 10 September 1998 Realised I had never learnt the Ambassador’s name. Missing from the brief. So throughout I called him ‘Ambassador’ and left it at that. He is quite young and sharp. Told me he was fed up with the low diplomatic pay and was thinking of moving into business. I liked the fact that he used the residence walls for exhibitions of local Estonian artists, some of which were very good. Went to their European Affairs committee in the parliament building  – made a speech and answered lots of questions. They are very keen to be treated as West Europeans and not as ex-Soviets. Justifiably, since the whole atmosphere is Western cultural and I felt at home with them. They reflected some concern at joining the CAP and having to pay all those subsidies to the farmers. At present, their farming industry works very well with virtually no subsidies or tariff protection. Ironically, joining the EU means forcing them to introduce the whole Alice in Wonderland bureaucracy of the CAP and recruiting hundreds of officials to police it. They are having to do this just at the time when the UK is trying to reform CAP back in the market direction that they start from. For them, a retreat from rationality to nonsense. But they are desperately keen to be full members of Europe. I am told their farmers do not whinge under the present market system, but they will presently learn to when inside the CAP.

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Afterwards, I visited the pretty Parliament chamber, dating from their 1918–20 national freedom, wired up for modern electronic voting. They have the highest computer usage in Europe. Then walked 20 minutes through the old town of Tallinn, cobbled narrow streets and mediaeval churches, to the Ministry of Agriculture. On the way, visited two lovely churches, one opulent Orthodox, used only by the Russian minority, and one severe Lutheran. At the Ministry we had the usual warm speeches of friendship and signed and exchanged a formal Memo of Understanding, whereby we will work with them to help them gain entry to the EU. It began to rain as we set off to open an exhibition of rural crafts and the traditional way of life. It was organised by a tall blonde Eskimo lady, who must make icy Baltic village life more interesting than I would have guessed from afar. From lunch to a modern farm 30 km out on the flat wet plain of Tallinn. They had a good harvest of potatoes and lots of primitive Russian tractors, which rarely worked. The airport was a bit of a dump, being rebuilt, but the Estonian Airways plane was nice and empty. We flew above thick cottonwool cloud until passing the south of Sweden, when it cleared. I slept a bit and then woke with the usual problem – my sinuses infected by the air conditioning, my nose and eyes running. Just like when we returned last year from Poland. In Maggie’s car, cleared the inevitable red box. Already there was a memo resisting my Wednesday fax suggesting some food aid to Petersburg. (They are always impressively speedy to resist doing anything.) It was an excellent trip. Feel we achieved a few things. Loved the wide and low architectural perspectives of Petersburg and perhaps we helped establish better relations with the impressive Estonians. Nice to be with my positive secretary Simon. But best of all to be back home.

Friday 11 September 1998 Woke heavy-eyed and with a sore throat and spent most of the sunny morning in the conservatory opening the mass of letters awaiting me. The news is full of Clinton’s possible impeachment.

Tuesday 15 September 1998 Tuesday evening, have dried up enough to watch football. Best was my dear old Northampton Cobblers, who beat Premier League West Ham, showing

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great heart and spirit. Took me back 50 years to watching them at the old County Ground in the old Third Division North when they played for a maximum pay of £22 a week.

Wednesday 16 September 1998 In no condition to go on my scheduled visit to Slovenia. Cancel it. Do this diary and clear a lot of papers, feeling very wobbly. The Times had a piece by John Bayley on the Alzheimer’s disease of his wife, novelist and don, Iris Murdoch. Tragic. Movingly written. He comes over honest and well. I remember in 1956, in Oxford, when I ran the Writers Club, we invited Iris Murdoch, still a relatively unknown young novelist outside inner literary circles, to a meeting in my flat in Walton Street. It was the time when the great poet W.H. Auden also came to read and talk to us, ahead of his successful campaign to become Oxford Professor of Poetry, which I helped organise. In the taxi from the station, Auden asked me to sit on his lap and squeezed my youthful bottom and thighs – without reward since my heterosexual inclinations were then totally established. After the Murdoch meeting, honoured that the writer had bothered to come to my dingy room, I innocently and shyly offered to escort her back through the dark streets of Oxford to her college. Mine was an early attempt to be a gentleman. She looked quite indignant and said ‘No thank you very much, I am perfectly capable of walking myself home.’ I suppose I was lucky, as a young nobody, to have both Auden and Murdoch in my room. At Oxford then we took such things for granted and foolishly didn’t ask for signed autographs on our books of their novels and poems. Phoned Margaret Jay about tomorrow’s away day for the front bench, which sadly I shall miss. She is very on top of everything and full of ideas. Certainly knows how to run a team. Bred to lead. Also talked to journalist Harry Chapman Pincher. His piece on me is totally without spite or snideness. He explained that that rare quality is because he is ‘from a different generation’.

Sunday 20 September 1998 Up at 7.00 am, ready to start for Cornwall, but very foggy so didn’t leave till 8.30. Sarah drove fast all the way, and it was exactly four hours to St Mawes. Cornwall drenched in sunshine. We parked the car on the sea front and wandered into a hotel for a drink – and found it is the one being refurbished by Sarah’s friend Olga Forte Polizzi and husband William Shawcross, in a

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wonderful position overlooking St Mawes harbour and looking across to Falmouth Bay. They greeted us very warmly, gave us a drink and we stayed for a delicious lunch of barbecued fish. Impressed to watch William, an established journalist and author, humbly serving at tables. He is very tall and noticed the resemblance to Basil Fawlty. William told me that all this serving at table is stopping him finishing his next book on Iraq and the UN. I said ‘Then do less serving at table.’ He said, ‘Then I shall have a second divorce.’ Olga is clearly the dominant partner and a dynamic hostess.

Wednesday 23 September 1998 Wandered through the pretty streets of Port Isaac. Bought two fresh lobsters to take home. Sarah drove fast and we were in Fox’s Walk by 5.00 pm. Not looking forward to Blackpool party conference next week.

Thursday 24 September 1998 Nick has launched our quarantine reforms successfully. But sadly he has swallowed the department view that it will take three years to introduce them. Any other ministry would do it in a year. Fixed the freehold for my London mews house with the Grosvenor estate on the phone. That absorbs all my cash. But at least I am now a freeholder (and centuries ago would have won a vote). Chatted with Denis Carter, who said Blair is ‘bored with Lords reform’. Thinks we will go for abolishing hereditary rights and set up a Royal Commission to recommend second-stage reform before the next election. He is worried about Margaret’s wish for retirement from the Lords at 75 – guarantees that our aging life peers will join hereditaries in voting against. I think we have first to decide what are the right reforms – where Margaret will be hard-line radical. Then how best to get it through the Lords – where compromises on allowing hereditaries to vote on some of themselves as Life peers, or to have a late retirement age, may help.

Saturday 26 September 1998 Dreading Blackpool conference next week. The NFU is holding a mass demonstration against us there tomorrow. Recalled two nice Olga Polizzi stories. They went to dinner with Margaret Jay, who had invited the Blairs. Margaret’s cook didn’t turn up at the last minute. Characteristically unphased, Margaret said, ‘Let’s  go

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around the corner to the pizza shop’ – and there they had supper: the coming prime minister, the scion of the Fortes with the son of the famous Attorney-General. Interestingly, Willie, who is observant, didn’t take to Cherie. Thinks she will prove the Blair Achilles heel. Second was when famous comedian Harry Enfield came to stay. They decided to go for a picnic on their boat. Olga slaved at getting a super picnic hamper of lobster, champagne etc. But when Enfield turned up, his wife said, ‘Don’t bother, I have got the picnic,’ and produced a bag of Cornish pasties. I like that.

Sunday 27 September 1998 We drove up to London in the evening and went to dinner with our friend Corinne Laurie. She had the singer Barbara Hendricks, who is impressively ungrand and bright about world affairs. And my old friend John Gross. John was very funny on his one-time employer, George Weidenfeld. He discovered that George had once pre-sold a book to an American publisher for a large sum – a history of the Crimean War to be written by the young historian Alan Clark. A very good project – except he hadn’t yet told the author Clark about it. George used the advance as credit, then either persuaded Clark to do it or returned the money later. John was full of fine stories and really ought to write his memoirs. He has just produced a terrific Book of English Prose. Must get it for Xmas.

Monday 28 September 1998 Maggie arrived at 7.30 am to take me to Euston for the Blackpool conference. The Virgin train was on time, unexpectedly, as yesterday the trains taking the Cabinet up were all 2–3 hours late, infuriating ministers and leading to calls for renationalisation. Met David Sainsbury changing at Preston. He is enjoying being the science minister. And Tessa Blackstone, very bubbly and affectionate, quite different from her media image of a battle-axe. I have received no conference programme of events or warning of where MAFF ministers should attend, so I will go where I wish. We all agree Blackpool is awful. My Ruskin Hotel is £75 a night, but I at least I have a bath, which Tessa and most delegates don’t have. The big hotels are trebling their charges to around £200 a night especially for the Labour delegates. Walked to the Stretton Hotel, where we were doing a MAFF questions and answers session. Nick Brown was away in Brussels (yesterday he and Jeff

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met the rioting farmers here at the football ground and apparently they did well). Jeff chaired the meeting of some hundred folk. I tried to sneak in the message that we are listening sympathetically to the farmers’ plight but can afford very little. Walked back to the conference hall with Jeff. Lovely old Edwardian ­balconies and decorations. The atmosphere was nice, warm and friendly and tolerant, quite different from those terrible days, 15 years ago, when the l­eft-wing Militant hooligans dominated it – Trots trying to get Benn into power by force and intimidation. None of that venom remains here now (though it may still be underground in Trot cells) – except in my memory. In fact, I now grudgingly admit that I actually enjoy the conference this time. Beforehand, I dread going and try to arrange excuses for not going. But when I get here, and find nice people, lots of old friends to gossip with, and none of those Trot hooligans, I really enjoy it. Chatted to various people in the corridors, lots of fellow peers up for Tony’s speech tomorrow. Patricia Hewitt revealed that the Treasury has caved in to the City rip-off fund managers by dropping my cheap index-tracking from ISAs. I congratulated Chris Mullin on his excellent recent speech. He asked why Joe Haines still hates him so much – it started with something long ago, which neither can now remember. Back to the hotel for chat with my old Policy Unit economist Andrew Graham. He is now No. One at Balliol, Oxford. Then walked along the front to the Claremont for the NFU fringe meeting, with Jeff and me on the platform. Started well, but then a bunch of drunken Welsh farmers began to rant and rave, demanding we give them more money, and wouldn’t let anybody else get a word in. They converted Jeff and me and 100 delegates against that proposition. At The Times party, chatted with one of my favourite journalists and people, Matthew Parris, who told me he had acquired a video of me doing a Labour Party political broadcast 30 years ago, in jumper and flares, which made him giggle. I told him that we were New Labour modernisers already then. Then off to dinner at a Chinese restaurant with Giles Radice, Pat Hollis, Helene Hayman, Dianne Hayter and William Bach, all sensible Labour. Giles explained why he didn’t go to the SDP in 1981, although a close friend of Roy Jenkins – I also declined to switch parties, although most of my friends and even my wife went. We were Labour, not Liberals. Giles and I were rooted Labour. Earlier, saw Gordon Brown in the Imperial Hotel. Very friendly. Thanked me for my ‘red diesel’ memo. Said, ‘We will go for it.’ Also asked me to work

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closely with his friend Nick Brown. ‘He is good politically, but he needs you on the policy side.’

Tuesday 29 September 1998 Had breakfast with Ann Taylor, who referred to Roy Jenkins’ ‘impossible ego’ and is worried he will influence Blair towards PR, which she opposes. Andrew Graham told me he had chatted with Jack Cunningham, who is finding it difficult to define his new Cabinet Office job. Richard Wilson, Cabinet Secretary, is trying to control him. I read the newspapers and then walked up to the Imperial Hotel, weather still mild though grey. Gossiped with delightful old friend Jean Corston. Along the front ran into great Labour political foot soldier, John Golding, who had just finished his book on the party ‘troubles’ 1978–83. Says his villains are Hattersley and Denis Healey and his trade union heroes, dear old Terry Duffy and Sid Weighell. Nice to have the old trade union barons getting a piece of appreciation. But then John is Antique Labour, in the best sense. Says he pays a tribute to me in his preface. In the Winter Gardens after lunch, I stood at the back waiting for Blair’s speech. Hall absolutely packed. Chatted with Charlie Falconer, who liked my ‘Prime Minister’ book and says it is very relevant to the problems he and Jack are finding in the Cabinet Office. Charlie is very bright, but no Whitehall experience, so may find the machine elusive. Said Jack’s real problem is finding out what he is supposed to do, apart from the media side. Blair’s speech was excellent, clear, direct, reflecting the fact we are now fully in government, no triumphalism. Very relaxed and at times funny. Probably one of the four best I have heard: others – Gaitskell in 1960 ‘Fight and Fight Again’ speech; Wilson ‘White Heat of Technology’ 1963; and Kinnock blasting Militant 1985. None of the 1970s speeches I was connected with were really good, because constrained by party divisions, always full of coded messages to the Left or Right and afraid to talk straight – except Jim in 1976 on ‘cannot spend our way out of recession’. Blair lucky he doesn’t have to do any of the verbal contortions – but then he has created some of that luck. He spoke this year much more to the party, less than last year, when it was to the world outside. He now doesn’t have to explain that we really are a different Labour party – he has demonstrated that in the past year. He told the party that it has to face up to the practical realities of being in government. Nice joke against Tories – said, ‘They used to have members but no democratic ballots; now they have ballots but no members.’ And about his

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speech to the French National Assembly in French – that he had meant to say that he ‘admired Premier Jospin in many ways’, but actually in translation said he ‘desired him in many positions’ – but then the French are always quite relaxed about that kind of thing. Had a long chat with David Miliband about MAFF. I suggest No. 10 keeps the pressure on us over dog quarantine and that taking three years to bring in the reforms is quite unacceptable. I suggested to Sally Morgan, Blair’s political secretary, that, in future, conference ends on Thursday. Conference has changed radically, no longer determines policy, so why drag it out all week. The delegates no longer see it as their week’s annual holiday (often paid for by their constituency party). For most of us, Blackpool is the last place we want to spend a week. Graham Allen told me that when he arrived at his flatlet he found no towel. The landlady said ‘Haven’t you brought your own towel? You better talk to the husband.’ The husband looked shocked at this dreadful omission, but said, ‘I can give you one for overnight, but you must buy your own for tomorrow.’ He then looked at Graham, tall and smart, and said, ‘I suppose you haven’t brought your toilet roll either?’ ‘No,’ said Graham. ‘Well, don’t worry. I will lend you one overnight, but let me have it back in the morning.’ And this is the tourist Mecca of the North. I walk the front and see just old men sitting in hotel bars supping pints at 10.30 in the morning. That is not the future of the British leisure industry. Chatted with Geoffrey Robinson, who asked, ‘Are they making full use of your political and economic experience?’ I laughed. He blames officials for most of his troubles with his offshore investments. Finally, after midnight, walked Tessa Blackstone down the promenade back to her hotel – she hasn’t a bath and I was tempted to offer her the use of mine, but don’t want to give the hacks one of their preferred stories as a break from all this boring policy stuff. To bed at 12.30 am. Woken at 2 am by a noisy street squabble between a group of pig farmers and some delegates who clearly did not appreciate the need to give more support to farmers.

Wednesday 30 September 1998 To the Winter Gardens where I met Nick Brown and Elliot and we greeted the march of protest by some pig farmers. They blocked the road outside the conference hall and Nick with a fine foghorn voice addressed them – I declined, still having a hoarse throat. Son Stephen joined us and watched, with incredulity, his father in his pig farm patron role. Then the pig leaders

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came with us ministers to my hotel where we held a meeting in the lounge with coffee all round. The farmers were actually an impressively reasonable bunch. I liked them. We ministers talked afterwards and decided to do whatever we could to help them. I suggested that, for a start, we demand that MAFF and Parliament at least serve good British bacon, which at present they do not. Kate Hoey and I walked to the Country Sports meeting on the sea front in front of the tower. Wet and windy, so not many people there, just the old faithful of Ann Mallalieu and Penny Mortimer. They had some beautiful hawks and falcons and I was photoed with them, looking truly scared as they fluttered threateningly above my head. It is now 37 years since I left from my first Blackpool conference, when leader Hugh Gaitskell, then my great hero, overturned the Left’s previous year’s resolution for nuclear disarmament – I had served through the year with the Campaign for Democratic Socialism helping to achieve that. Gaitskell would have resigned had he lost. I walked the front and on the pier with his charming daughter Julia while his fate was decided. Blackpool is just as wet and grey now as then and doesn’t seem to have been painted since. And it is 51 years since I came here with my father for his annual week’s factory holiday, staying in a boarding house at £3-7-6d a week. I loved the afternoon tea with tinned fruit and cream; but not the nights sharing a room, with dad on the settee snoring like a buffalo. Blackpool spans much of my life, but have never liked it much. Evening at home watching TV. Fascinating programme on Patrick O’Brian, in which they question everything about him: whether he is really called O’Brian, or had a brother killed in the war, or was born and grew up in Ireland. He weaves a maze about himself. Natural spy and fantasiser. But he is charming and fascinating and a wonderful story-teller.

Thursday I October 1998 Walked to Chelsea Barracks in dampening rain and opened a meeting on promoting British cheese. Audience attacked MAFF for doing little to help them. I visited the exhibition to have a surreptitious lunch from the various award-winning cheeses – superb, nothing better in France. Simon told me that the department has been blocking my requests for meetings with the food retailers, having decided they wouldn’t wish to meet me – without asking them or telling me. Just ignores my requests.

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Friday 2 October 1998 Our Air France plane to Paris was inevitably an hour late. Drove to pretty Chantilly in damp dusk. Recall how arriving in France used to be exciting, but now it is just big cities, traffic and cross people looking just the same as anywhere else. The Hotel de la Tour is a comfortable old chateau, very quiet and elegant. Rested, bathed and then drove nearby to impressive Aiglemont, the Aga Khan’s own chateau. With Sarah and Sasha, who had a terrible headache, having been to a big party all last night; and George, composed and ­cheerful as ever. The approach drive was marked with striking rows of flaming torches. Massive security. We queued up to shake hands with friendly Aga – known as ‘K’ to his friends – and his new Begum. With her, watching every step, sharing the glory, was her astonishing mother. Between them they have had several marriages, accumulating assets and a few titles along the way. The Germans look so full of energy and clearly bent on including the Ismailis in their Greater Marriage Reich. But the occasion, the setting, the ball and the dinner were fantastic. A huge transparent marquee for over a thousand people. Lovely old band, led by remarkable Lester Lanin in his 90s, playing the Golden Oldies, which oldies like us like to dance to. I was at a very privileged table, second in the pecking order. Headed by K’s brother, delightful Amyn. Sitting round it were French ex-President Giscard d’Estaing, two former chiefs of the UN, Pérez de Cuéllar and Boutros Boutros-Ghali, and Sylvia Jay, the intelligent wife of the British Ambassador to Paris. Robin Cook seemed ­surprised to see me. It was a glittering cast all around. A litter of European aristocracy, six Austrian archdukes and duchesses and various monarchs, including Spain, Greece and Jordan, and some extinct Royals like Bulgaria and Russia. At our table was a vast Princess of Liechtenstein, with a huge bust covered in large artificial flowers, and actress Rita Hayworth’s daughter, Yasmin (K’s half-sister), friendly and looking increasingly like her gorgeous mother. Not many people here (like me) who buy their own furniture. The usual nice Gstaad crowd, especially lovely Nanine and Hans, some weathered from too much skiing. Not many Brits, though those present were first class: the Raynes, Sieffs, Fretwells, and Howard de Waldens (lovely wife). But many of the usual crowd missing – no Rothschilds, no Vivian and Jocelyn, none of the racing crowd, even though it is the Arc de Triomphe weekend.

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I loved the evening. Originally didn’t want to go. Privately decided not to be my usual grumpy self, because it was Sarah’s great party and her friends. In the end I enjoyed it as much as she did. Really best always to go for these things and enjoy them while we can. There will be a time when we cannot.

Saturday 3 October 1998 Took breakfast in our room looking out over grey northern French countryside. Sarah told me about K, always sensitive and intelligent, whom she first met when she was 16, going regularly on holiday with him and his group, including Princess Margaret. Sarah had a very special and close relationship with Amyn in her early twenties. They are all very rich, but not sure how really happy. Lunch back at Aiglemont around the swimming pool. K came in with his plate and sat quietly at a table all alone. So Sarah and Henrietta Bedford went over to sit and chat with him. The new wife must have been elsewhere. Sarah said K was sweet at lunch, just like the old days. He came over to me and discussed racing, saying his horse will not like the soft going in tomorrow’s Arc. Back home in Fox’s Walk by six on a cold grey evening. Tired and pleased to be home. The stock markets are seriously in freefall and we are impressively poorer.

Sunday 4 October 1998 Watched the Arc, won by Sagamix. Fine jockey Peslier’s third Arc in a row. Spoke to Joe Haines – who touchingly said I am the ‘only one I can rely on to go into the trenches or jungle with’. Some friend has let him down. Told me how after the Maxwell takeover of the Mirror, Joe was preparing to resign and leave, but he was summoned by Maxwell to ask him to stay – and in his office found Paul Foot and John Pilger, those two phoney heroes of the Far Left, drinking champagne with the Captain and celebrating his victory. One thing the Left is unquestionably good at is producing humbugs. Not looking forward to starting the parliamentary treadmill tomorrow. The political year ahead will be tough, with the Tories threatening to fight in the trenches against Lords reform. Still feel ambivalent about staying on. Nick is not close – and I fear he will be run by his officials. Bored by endless evenings at the Lords, when would rather be at the pictures, theatre or music – or reading or dining and talking with Sarah. Yet worried about

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giving up and then never having a serious occupation ever again; this may be the end. Events may decide it for me.

Monday 5 October 1998 Miserable cold day. No votes expected in Lords so stayed away.

Tuesday 6 October 1998 Drove up with Maggie going through two red boxes. Had long talk with Ralf Dahrendorf (have finally forgiven him for, when Director of the LSE, ­allowing my department to make me resign my life appointment there in 1976 because I was on leave working in No. 10) about the reality of the modern Brussels EU. He is pessimistic. Says Roy Jenkins doesn’t u ­ nderstand modern Europe, which is just a gang of squabbling self-interests, and has ‘the romantic vision of an intellectual Englander’. Says the way to handle the EU is how the realistic French, and to some extent the Dutch do, ‘to talk big Eurospeak principles; and then to work at the ground floor on the detail to fix all the appointments and secure all the financial benefits for oneself ’. Nipped out to the bookies along Victoria Street to watch Referendum run poorly into fifth place at Redcar, hanging to one side and never really stretching out. Suspect I was the only minister of the crown in William Hill this afternoon. Phone call from Clive Hollick. Reported on progress in his talks with David Montgomery. Have now constructed a good deal to merge Mirror and Express newspapers. I told him David had phoned me yesterday and said his editors were unsatisfactory. Celebrity-obsessed Piers Morgan had himself leaked a story from the private Mirror lunch with Blair – a sackable offence in my view. Then Clive moved on to discuss his position as special adviser to DTI. Previously, I had recommended him to hang on after the move of Margaret Beckett because it would be interesting to observe how new minister Peter Mandelson operates. Now he has decided to give up the DTI job. He says that Mandy likes everything on paper – he is a well-organised ‘memo man’ – whereas Clive likes one-to-one talking a problem through. Also Peter, like Nick Brown, is in awe of his civil servants, and they are anti-Clive as a weighty special adviser. So he will shortly retreat from DTI. He was also mildly critical of No. 10, saying they ‘take one for granted’. Agree with that. Spoke to Henry Carnarvon. Discussed sad story of the Queen’s trainer William Huntingdon giving up training. Big losses last two years. Yard – the Queen owns it – one-third empty. Really too big. Has 80 horses, above

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average, but needs 120 to be really profitable. Not many achieve that. Pity, since I like William very much. Henry also says that Woodrow Wyatt’s diaries are wrong in reporting what the Queen allegedly said about William.

Wednesday 7 October 1998 High-level meeting to consider the case of a former MAFF senior woman official, who is claiming constructive dismissal against the department 12  years ago. Officials are adamant that they should concede nothing and insist what a difficult person she was. From their descriptions she sounded difficult and able – in fact not unlike Packer. I try to defend her case, confident from all my experience that MAFF might have treated her badly, but we made little progress, so she will be sent packing. I chaired the external advisory group over lunch. Fundamental divisions remain between the extreme and barmy environmentalists, led by Green  Jonathon Porritt, who want all grants solely for environmental reasons, and the economists who want a Thatcherite market approach to farming. I manage to support some of the less silly environmentalist points. My officials told me that Nick Brown had been turned against the external expert group by Packer, so he will wind it up ‘as quickly as possible’. That may also be because it was Jack’s baby. But it is unwise, since it contains a lot of influential Labour advisers. Nick should not snub them. MAFF (having such a marvellous record of getting things right itself, of course) doesn’t use outside advice! Interestingly, the 50-page report under consideration, drafted by officials, contained only two lines about organic farming; I made sure that was challenged. Met Labour environmentalist Barbara Young, who told me she had had two meetings with Nick Brown and each time he had Packer with him and deferred to everything Packer said. She asked, ‘is Nick completely in Packer’s pocket?’ I ducked that, but getting worried.

Thursday 8 October 1998 Collected by Maggie, Simon and Natalie to visit an international food and wine show at Olympia. Excellent, with lots of first class British foods and wines. Back to Margaret Jay’s first front bench. Definitely different. More businesslike, more political discussion. Discussed new supportive appointments for ministers in the Lords. I have chosen a charming Welshman, Garfield  Davies. A good trade unionist – which I like – they understand

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the disciplines. But the party meeting afterwards was a bit tetchy, with people clearly not looking forward to being stuck in the Lords till midnight between now and next July. Good meeting back at the department with the NFU. Ben Gill presented his case of farmers’ plight very well. Nick received him warmly and certainly makes the farmers feel he is sympathetic and will help if he can. His problem is that he may raise expectations of financial help, which he cannot meet. But another curious episode. Nick held the usual ‘pre-meeting’ meeting. I walked in to sit down as usual. Nick was there with Packer and his private secretary. He looked up and asked me to leave. They were simply discussing the possibilities of helping the farmers, which is relevant to me as minister of farming. I couldn’t believe it. Jack would never do that, but always welcomed his ministers into all meetings. I said nothing, but went out and came back in with the NFU, all outsiders together. I was directed to sit at the far end of the long table, while Nick had Packer and Gill next to him. I won’t put up with that for very long. And Packer will pay for it in the end. Don’t blame Nick because he is naive. Afterwards, I was chatting with Simon, when he told me that my private office feels shut out from Nick’s ministerial floor. They get no invitations to participate in meetings there, and other junior ministers’ offices are having the same experience. He said Packer took advantage of the August and September breaks to ‘capture the minister’ and they have now built a complete wall around Nick, excluding all his fellow ministers and their secretaries. Worse is the cancellation of the Wednesday ministerial ‘prayer meetings’. That, with the abolition of the independent advisory group and the exclusion from the minister’s meetings, suggests Nick has completely abandoned his political side and fallen completely into Packer’s pocket. If so, Nick will suffer the same fate as the last half-dozen Tory ministers, who took the same path to political oblivion. I remembered the saying ‘A fish rots from the head down.’ Feel it applies particularly to MAFF. I decide to live with it a while and see what happens. I certainly don’t mind having fewer meetings. But if it really is as bad as it seems, then I will choose an early date and go. For me, one of the main satisfactions was the political team work, at which Jack and Jeff were superb. And the downside was to watch the department scheming against the interests of the elected government. So, if he is in charge and politics are out, then I will be out. I suspect the problem arises from Nick’s insecurity. He has been demoted. He finds himself surrounded by three junior ministers

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who are older than him and with 80 years collective experience at the top of Labour politics and who now know much more than him about agriculture. So he feels threatened and falls naturally into the arms of officials who have answers and call him ‘Yes Minister’. But they will eventually betray and abandon him as they did Tory minister Hogg. That could be the end of Nick, even though he has shrewdly won the support of the farmers – none of whom votes Labour. Spoke to Denis Carter, who is very worried. Told me that when he had lunch with Nick, who complained that, ‘I don’t know any of these people’  –  meaning his party ministerial colleagues Jeff, Elliot and me. That may be why he has moved in with the officials, who are more deferential and know less about politics than him. Back to my Lords room. Scot Gus Macdonald seems to have moved in. He is solid Old Labour so I immediately take to him. Told me he did well out of his success in the media business. We get on well.

Friday 9 October 1998 First lovely day in weeks. Am looking forward to a quiet weekend, with Guilder’s first run at Bangor. Think more about the job. Decide to watch how it develops. Don’t mind a lighter work load. Then get out next year. The market crash has removed a quarter of my small wealth – all in equities and out of my control, in a blind trust, to meet Whitehall rules – which made me welcome even the modest ministerial salary. Don’t mind. My pleasures in life don’t depend on a lot of money. Jeff phoned in the afternoon and we discussed the Nick problem. ‘Have I noticed the difference?’, he asked. ‘Meetings happening without me knowing, right in my policy area.’ Thinks a pity Jack took his excellent private secretary with him, since any collegiate tradition went with him, and now at the top there is a complete novice official serving a novice minister. Packer was able to take over and keep the rest of the ministers out. So we are not being invited to meetings – nor sent minutes of them to keep us informed. Worse, although Nick’s diary is still being circulated to us, as Jack’s always was, it actually contains nothing on it, blank as if he is totally unoccupied. But in his private office, which I sometimes discreetly investigate, there is a large noticeboard with a long string of his meetings pencilled in. So we won’t know about them. It is a deliberate campaign to separate Nick from his ministerial political colleagues. He is captured. And he seems a very willing captive. We live in interesting times. You can see the superiority of Jack as a team leader.

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Saturday 10 October 1998 Watch Guilder win nicely at Bangor. Terrific feeling. More than makes up for MAFF.

Sunday 11 October 1998 Interesting development on BSE. The just-retired chief medical officer, Calman, is reported to be going to the Inquiry tomorrow to say that MAFF suppressed evidence of the BSE public danger as late as 1995, and did little to enforce the protection rules. That has caused a buzz. Can believe it. Woodrow Wyatt diaries in the newspaper today are full of tittle-tattle and scandal, suggesting Royals have affairs and Macmillan was expelled from Eton for buggery. The old rogue was writing them just for pension money, knowing it would be published soon, and recording or inventing whatever would excite the newspaper headlines. As a journalist, he knew that it didn’t matter if he made it up. Spent the evening reading and watching superb Rowan Atkinson in Blackadder Goes Forth, which makes me roar with laughter.

Monday 12 October 1998 To London to the excellent Animal Health Trust lunch where they give the equine awards. One to dear Grand National winner, Dick Saunders, which gave me great joy. He is a true horseman. Sat next to Graham Kirkham, the furniture millionaire who finances the Tory party; liked him, a cheerful fellow. And Princess Royal, Anne. She seemed frosty at first, and looked rather like the Margaret Beckett of Buckingham Palace. But then she warmed up. We talked about horses and the lack of government support. She also said, encouragingly, ‘We need a central organisation for horses.’ I said I am trying to arrange it. Afterwards Andrew Higgins told me she commented that, ‘The minister seems user-friendly.’ I try. She was impressive. All common sense. Popped over to Andrew Parker Bowles’ table to discuss our Animals in War Charity. We aim to produce a dramatic animal sculpture in central London, hopefully in Park Lane. Went straight back to MAFF for a rare visit to my lovely room – don’t know what I will do with my huge Allen Jones jazz painting when I leave, since nowhere at home big enough. Jeff came in. Has spoken to Elliot  Morley, who was already very angry about being completely shut out by Nick’s civil servants and never seeing Nick or being included in

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discussions of his policy area. We agree that Jeff should see Nick on our behalf. Jeff had spoken to his clever private secretary, Karen, who said, ‘I am so pleased you raised it. I was worried about what is going on but felt it was not for me to say anything.’ Karen has been to see Nick’s private secretary, Katrina, who offered to ‘engineer’ a ministers’ meeting. I said, ‘Not acceptable. We don’t want them engineering things for us just like they usually engineer them against us. We must have it open and up front with Nick.’ Jeff said that he will do that. We were interrupted by the division bell and I had to run along the Embankment to get there just in time to vote. Then spent the rest of the afternoon in the Lords. Had a nice gossip with Clive Hollick, who told me how he had handled the break with Mandelson, which clearly leaves him relieved. Then he was paged to No. 10 by Jonathan Powell, so we broke. Nobody pages junior ministers to No. 10. My advice to the able young wishing to go to the top in politics is to go into business and become a press baron, popstar manager, transvestite model or racing car boss; they will have much more political access and influence with Downing Street. Phone John Spellar about Ministry of Defence’s failure to feed the troops on British meat. After our last meeting, he has commendably swung Defence round to using 100 per cent British beef. But still a problem with British lamb. So we will pursue that further. Reporting back on this to our MAFF officials, who have seemed indignant with Defence’s lack of patriotism, it strikes me to ask ‘What is our departmental position?’ I ask specifically, ‘Does MAFF in its own ­canteens serve 100 per cent British meat from British farmers?’ Predictably, they don’t know.

Wednesday 14 October 1998 Financial Times has story on big Whitehall inquiry into the promotion of British exports. I am minister for 10 per cent of UK exports. Of course, I was not told of the inquiry and no chance to give our view. Also a lot of stuff on the farming crisis. Nick has been preparing a big initiative but none of us junior ministers are involved. Margaret Jay later told me that, at a meeting with the Tories, their leader Cranborne had repeatedly referred to ‘when the hereditaries have gone’. So he has accepted the future reality. Typical pragmatic Cecil – he will already be arranging his future in the new Lords. Talks of ‘Fighting to the last ditch on this great hereditary principle’, while preparing his escape route out of the ditch. Impressively practical man.

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Cleared a whole red box. Contained lots of minutes of meetings about the farming crisis, which Jack would have automatically invited me to attend. Have decided not to mind. Just ride with it and treat it as a non-job. To bed to read more of the brilliant Elmore Leonard. Wish I could write dialogue like that. And, like Chili Palmer, grab the people I don’t like by the balls and throw them downstairs. A few candidates for that.

Friday 16 October 1998 Cheered up by latest non political correctness from Frank Dobson. At a meeting on how the NHS should handle Viagra, he suggested issuing it together with Prozac pills. ‘Then if you don’t get a fuck, you don’t give a fuck!’ Pleased there is still a place for him in New Labour (The Modern Party of Spinners and Vicars). Pleased to have clarified my position with the department. Accept am excluded from decision-making and will go in there as little as possible. Leave MAFF to bugger it up in their own particular style. Pity if Nick goes down with that because he is not a bad guy, but it is the route he has chosen. And looking forward to Lords reform battle in the House. Yesterday’s debate again good. Always liked batty hereditary, Onslow, who honestly said that ‘any institution of which I have a right to be a member is by definition in need of reform’ – though he will fight to the last gasp against us.

Sunday 18 October 1998 Wyatt Diaries in The Times full of the usual gossip, much of which won’t please the victims; makes me realise that I am not vicious enough to make a commercially successful diary. One interesting bit, on 14 June 1987, reports how Wyatt, at Murdoch’s ‘request’, had persuaded Thatcher to ‘stop the Times acquisition being referred to the Monopolies Commission though the Sunday Times was not really losing money and the pair together were not’. This is what I have always said: that waiving the merger with The Times through without consideration by the Monopolies Commission, was a disgraceful Thatcher fix for Murdoch in return for his support in the election. This means that John Biffen’s statement to the Commons that Murdoch’s deal in breach of the limits on newspaper ownership would not be referred to the Commission because it was losing money, was a conscious lie.

Monday 19 October 1998 Red boxes keep flowing, but I feel delightfully cut off from MAFF.

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The government is beginning to get into difficulties. Peter Riddell sets this all out well in today’s Times – and nicely says that Blair should consult me as somebody with experience of all this. Trouble is that not even my departmental minister consults me.

Tuesday 20 October 1998 Spend the day clearing papers and reading. Miserable weather and sit in the conservatory most of the time with my foot propped up on a stool. Feel very cut off from MAFF; have only been in my office four times in past three months. No need to. Not included in any meetings. Can just sit here and clear red boxes as they arrive. Curious version of ministerial life.

Wednesday 21 October 1998 Woke at 6.00 am and finished Great Expectations. A remarkable book. The strength is in the story-telling. Dickens has more story in any 50 lines than most modern novelists have in their whole life’s work. Sometimes the characterisation is too crude, obvious categorisation into goodies and ­ baddies. But a marvellous tale, with proper moral issues, and basically he is on the right side, and willing to expose the bad snobbish side of his hero Pip. I loved it. Front-bench meeting in the Moses Room to discuss Lords reform. Well chaired by MJ and some good points. Main drift that we must not allow the proposed Royal Commission to drift on too long and too wide; and must keep out the academic reformers who see it as a platform to impose their fancy whims. We all begin to worry about a mix of elected (first-class) and appointed (second-class) members. I conclude it has to be either wholly elected or wholly appointed. Worry that a more legitimate elected Lords will create more problems with the Commons about which is the prime chamber. To supper with Henry and Jeannie Carnarvon at Gran Paradiso. Henry’s hearing has deteriorated, but Jeannie as lovely as ever. They think the Telegraph series on Prince Charles very good – Henry gave some help. Denis Carter told me that it is all round that Nick Brown ‘is in the pockets of his officials’. Had also heard that I ‘had packed my bags to leave MAFF’. Nick is away at the Agriculture Council and still none of us has seen him for weeks. Today’s press reports MPs calling for Packer’s resignation because his very able wife Lucy (a former civil servant) has taken a highpaid job with Tesco, MAFF’s largest client. This was followed up by Channel 4 news this evening.

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Thursday 22 October 1998 Read half of new Michael Dibdin novel about murder, truffles and wine in Italy. Excellent. Hadn’t heard of him before but will follow up on others. Recommended by lovely Phoebe in the Elizabeth Street bookshop – Henry Stokes – which is better than any Dillons because they know their books (and their racehorses). On MAFF, I never got a reply to my questions to officials on whether MAFF was serving British meat in its own canteens (while denouncing the MoD for not serving it to British troops). So I told Jeff and he has sent in a rocket and got an answer within a day. Appalling. We serve wholly foreign meat – 100 per cent Argentinian beef and 100 per cent New Zealand lamb. So much for the farmers’ friend!

Friday 23 October 1998 Think a bit about my present life. Very happy with Sarah and Honey and the children. As minister it is very unsatisfactory that I now seem to have few responsibilities and attend few meetings. I just sit and get an endless flow of red boxes, clearing mountains of paper from afar. But at least I am not being as overworked as last year and I prefer being at Fox’s Walk to being in London. But for my hurt pride and sense of under-use, I would settle for this life – half-time work, some pay and sitting where I like to be. The thing that keeps me going politically is my friendship with marvellous MJ; wouldn’t want to let her down.

Saturday 24 October 1998 Terrible weather, gales, cloudbursts, roads flooded. Honey grew restless and wicked, eating the furniture, baskets, Sarah’s hats etc. She likes to be busy. Lovely postcard from Patrick O’Brian, saying, ‘People say such nice things about you.’ Fortunately he doesn’t read the Mail.

Sunday 25 October 1998 Very wild night, leaves stripped off the trees, branches lying everywhere, more floods reported. Mass was packed, crowds standing at the back. Because Father Flanagan has returned from his wandering. Pre-lunch drinks with the Wiltons, who have done up their little village house brilliantly. They once lived in grand mansions with lots of staff, but John seems to have spent most of his money. Also, Diana says sharply she wants it small so people cannot stay. They are annoyed with the Wyatt diary

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because it calls her a duchess, which she doesn’t like, being satisfied as a countess. I barely know the difference. Realise I cannot write a spicy diary like Wyatt. MAFF and Lords life are routine compared to Woodrow’s tinsel lunches with monarchy or conversations with Thatcher. Fact is, I am fairly marginal now, so my life is too. Don’t mind being marginal. Better than being a current celebrity.

Monday 26 October 1998 Told Grimley I wanted the Private Office changed and to lose the typist who now has nothing to do, as Peter and Simon have their own word processors. Typical of MAFF to maintain an old administrative structure completely out of date, based on typing and filing and pre-computing – and not meeting ministers’ needs. I need another younger policy person, assuming I again ever get involved in policy. Simon reveals he is leaving to go to Brussels, which is good for him but a blow to me. Saw Jeff who said, ‘This is weird. It cannot go on like this.’ He has still not seen Nick for ages, nor have the rest of us. Has seen a secret paper, not copied to him, suggesting we might try to renege on the proposed Food Standards Agency. That is probably because they want the department carved up. But creating the Food Standards Agency is a clear Labour manifesto commitment and strong commitment by Blair personally. And this is going on without any of us ministers being consulted or even told. Jeff has alerted Jack Cunningham, Jack Straw and Ann Taylor to what is going on. And, under our pressure, there is now a ministerial meeting scheduled for Wednesday, suddenly on our diaries though not there last week. Over to the Lords for a two-line whip. Saw Margaret. She asks about Patricia Hollis, whom she finds withdrawn. So I go to talk to Patricia who I like and greatly respect. It is clear she is having problems in her department. Alistair Darling is behaving a bit like Nick and is avoiding his ministers. She feels shut out. But she admires him and says he is more measured than Harriet Harman was. Took Charlie Falconer into the Royal Gallery for a private chat. He is very open and honest. Admits he is still feeling his way into his new job at the Cabinet Office. Found that officials were sending him papers only at the last minute when it was too late for him to make an effective and considered intervention. I told him about the Nick Brown situation. He said ‘entirely predictable’. That Nick is a total networker and so attached himself to Packer as the man with the agricultural network. Nick thinks he has the political network, so between them they have it all and don’t need anyone else. Also,

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Nick is a natural ‘outsider’, so will distance himself from experienced ‘insiders’ like us. I do like Charlie and find I learn something every time I chat with him. Old City friend Michael Bedford came in to the Lords for dinner. But the whip was up early, the House was bound to be dead and boring, so I cancelled my table and we went to the Gran Paradiso instead. Michael has lost in the stock market collapse and is going to sell his flat in Val d’Isère, but is very resilient about it all, knowing about the swings and roundabouts of financial life. We had a great gossip as usual. At the next table was delightful Caroline Stephens, who was Thatcher’s secretary and is now Richard Ryder’s wife. A delightful pair. Not partisan.

Tuesday 27 October 1998 Worked at home in the morning, mainly doing homework for my PQ on the crisis in the farming industry. That didn’t go too badly. I expressed enormous sympathy for their problems. Basically, I waffled sympathetically, but avoided anything specific. Back to MAFF. Did a video link with the Devon council. Bizarrely, the office had arranged that Patrick Nicholls, the Tory Commons front-bench spokesman, should share this with me from the department office – as if he was equal to the Labour minister. I told them to throw him out. They have no political sense. Then a meeting in Nick’s room on food retailers and competition. This was my first formal meeting with him in three months! Even now, I wasn’t actually asked to attend. I simply found out about the meeting and went up and walked in. After all, I am the minister for the food retailers. I said nothing. A scandal has broken. Ron Davies, Welsh secretary, has just resigned over an incident last night on Clapham Common. Rumours of homosexuality and drugs. I have never been to Clapham Common in my life. But it seems to be a place where I could actually go in the evening to meet government colleagues who I have never ever come across in Whitehall. He joined up with some gang and then was done over at knife-point, losing his wallet and car. Not everyone in Clapham is nice it seems, despite its current fashionability with estate agents. At 5.30 pm I slipped away before the whip was up, to change for the great Booker Prize dinner at the Guildhall. This is the first time I have been invited, so very excited. Was never invited when Arts spokesman, but now as food minister I rate higher with sponsor Bookers, who are one of my food

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sector companies. Chatted with Alan Howarth, who I view as having my Arts job. Discussed my secret 1970s Downing Street Diaries with my prospective and excellent Jonathan Cape publisher, Dan Franklin. Went for dinner into the Great Hall, which looked magnificent. Various literary stars, Salman Rushdie, Beryl Bainbridge etc., were spread around. It was a terrific occasion and made it finally worthwhile to be a minister. The only perk I have ever appreciated in this job. Douglas Hurd presented the judges’ award to Ian McEwan, for his Amsterdam, which I read the other week. Not as good as his previous Enduring Love, but that often happens. They catch up and effectively give the prize retrospectively. Afterwards, had a long chat with Robin Butler. I acknowledge he is right and Packer will see me out at MAFF, so I will lose my £5 bet with him. Robin said, ‘You cannot dislodge Packer from MAFF because nobody else will have him.’ We will see what happens eventually. I will keep working on it. No. 10 assures me the chop will eventually come. Going out from the Guildhall into the dark of Gresham Street, I was ­saddened. Opposite the Guildhall used to be Grieveson Grant, the stockbrokers where I went happily to work for several years in the 1980s, first as a consultant and then becoming a partner. Now it is just a building site. Like much of my life – the people and the places gone. But still, it had been an exciting evening. I do, for some reason, enjoy novelists more than grain farmers.

Wednesday 28 October 1998 Clive Hollick phoned. He described Peter Mandelson’s ministerial style. Uses a small group of acolytes, doesn’t use or trust his fellow ministers and in awe of a powerful permanent secretary. Went in for our first ‘Political Meeting’ (as it is described in the office diary) in three months. Jeff asked to see me beforehand. He said, ‘Things are even worse.’ He had seen a memo from Nick to the chairman of the Legislation Committee, copies only to officials, Carden and Packer, about retreating from the Food Standards Agency – and on the top in pencil it said ‘Not to be copied to ministers’. Even worse, it was not copied to Frank Dobson at Health. So Packer has really got his retreat from food safety organised. Jeff was very steamed up and has now told Tessa Jowell about it. Says he is ‘not prepared to stay’ if this goes on. I said, ‘Don’t resign in anger. Be cool and calculated.’ Jeff delayed before going up for the meeting, saying, ‘He has kept us waiting for three months, we have no need to hurry now.’

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Nick opened by stating that he intended to hold these political meetings regularly, but was not sure at what time. He then said the only item on the agenda for us to discuss today was the starting time of the next meeting. Jeff said 8.00 am and Nick (and I) blanched. He accepted my compromise of 9.00 am, which was Jack’s starting time. But Jeff wouldn’t let him off the hook and went for him like a terrier about not having held meetings and the need for them. Jeff said, ‘The civil servants have already taken over the department, led by that politician at the top who thinks he is running this department. We ministers must reassert control.’ Nick looked taken aback and sheepish and kept saying, ‘Today I only want to fix the time of our next meeting.’ Jeff went on relentlessly, explaining why Nick needed to become political and use his team. Nick conceded everything, blustered a bit, but looked a beaten man – no doubt we will pay for that, all being dropped in the next reshuffle. The newcomers round the table and Nick’s elegant political advisers all looked puzzled. I tried to join in with support for Jeff, but Nick cut me off, saying he didn’t want to hear any more since he accepted it. A bizarre and fascinating meeting. I took Liz Lloyd from No. 10 back to my room and I explained the situation. She had noticed the absence of ministerial meetings, but was unaware of the seriousness of the situation. She took it fully on board, saying that No. 10 was not being included either. ‘Nick has made this speech stating that he will announce a new packet of aid shortly, but he never cleared it with No. 10 and Tony is not pleased.’ On the FSA she said that we must introduce it this parliament, ‘because it is in the manifesto’. The question is just what we do during the delay. She thought Nick could not back out of it. She explained that our proposed New MAFF, with the wider countryside, is ‘off the agenda’ at present. And there is ‘no prospect of getting rid of Packer because nobody will have him’. I walked back with her to the Lords, where the pavements were crowded with violent hooligans demonstrating against hunting, dirty with dreadlocks. They alone justify why I am on the other side, supporting country sports, though have never hunted in my life. Went to the introduction lunch of Melvyn Bragg. Nice to have him finally in the Lords. He had earned it both by his distinction in the Arts and by his loyalty to the Labour Party through bad times as well as good. I thought it was wrong that he had to wait till after a load of glitterati who had joined Labour only recently. But, of course, they gave loads of money. I missed the opening reception in the riverside marquee and people were already sitting down in the Cholmondeley Room. Thirty-four of us in all. Five Braggs, including his fine old mum. Barbara Castle and MJ (the two who introduced him later in the chamber), Brenda Dean, David Putnam

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and myself, Beryl Bainbridge the novelist, who lost out for the fifth time last night at the Booker, Greg Dyke from TV, old friend journalist Anthony Holden and lots I didn’t know. A good lot and genuine family and friends of Melvyn, not just the celebrities often shown off on these occasions. Tony Holden told me that the Guardian is doing a profile on Harry Evans, and Harry, naive and trusting as ever, has told his friends to cooperate. But the journalist doing it is trying to prove only nasty things about Harry (himself a greater journalist than anyone on the Guardian). I joined a great party in MJ’s room. Chatted to Liz Symons. She thinks, from her position at the Foreign Office, that Robin Cook cannot recover – today he had uproar over our arrest and release of the Chilean dictator Pinochet. She says Robin has the wrong style for the Foreign Office, and anyway has ‘no sense of judgement, and is too rigid and dogmatic to learn’. She says that morale at the FO is bad, ‘in a spiral, they think the whole world hates them, and this Pinochet gaffe will make it worse’. Liz comes over as a social glamour puss, but is in fact affectingly nice and a good hardworking minister. Sometimes she has three of the four tabled PQs and she is on top of them all. Our leading Lords women – Margaret, Tessa, Liz, Patricia, Helene – are our best ministers in the Lords. (Of course, I am prejudiced, being fond of them all.)

Thursday 29 October 1998 Hobbled along the embankment to our interesting front-bench meeting. Discussed today’s publication of the Jenkins Report recommending alternative voting in our general elections. I used to be sympathetic to PR, and lectured in favour of it at the LSE. But I have cooled since trying to work with the Lib Dems in the Lords; they are a tricky, devious and above all a self-righteous and, if sometimes personally engaging, basically an unreliable lot. Under PR we would have to work with them in coalitions. Went over to the Commons for our debate on dog quarantine. Nick was jovial and positive and went down well. His style is a bit student debating, but it works. I went simply to demonstrate to him that there is such a thing as team working. He argued that farmers are not ‘leaving farming in droves’ as the NFU claims. The numbers are barely changed from two years ago, but the ratio of part timers is rising and now 40 per cent. And the incomes are not as bad as the NFU claims because many are part time and have other incomes. And there is not ‘an explosion of bankruptcies’ as the NFU claims; the actual

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current number is below the average for the past three years. I love numbers. But MAFF gives me none of these numbers.

Friday 30 October 1998 Maggie arrived with the red box in the afternoon. In it there was a terrible paper about my failure to attend a recent horticultural conference in Guernsey. Letter from Janet Fookes to Nick and to the PM calling for me to be sacked for rudeness. In fact I had no idea I was due there – and anyway it was scheduled to coincide with my day in hospital for my foot operation. They claim they were never told that I could not come. My office denies this (but has no records), saying that, ‘All papers have been lost’. Looks like another MAFF cock-up to me. But the draft letter to Fookes makes no effort to defend me, not pointing out I was in hospital. Simply tries to cover up for the officials. The horticultural trade press is demanding my head. In fact, the conference was never even in my diary. Woke in the night and spent three hours tossing and redrafting my response.

Saturday 31 October 1998 I spent hours drafting a response letter for Nick to send to Fookes. Also drafted a sharp memo to my private office telling them always to keep records of phone calls and engagement confirmations and withdrawals.

Monday 2 November 1998 Country slowly sinking under rainwater. Went for briefing on this afternoon’s PQ on quarantine – which went well. Lots of pressure on MAFF to get it done quickly, which they will resist.

Tuesday 3 November 1998 Good meeting with bright new official trying to give a boost to my campaign in favour of British speciality foods. Then meeting chaired by Nick with the supermarkets – which I have been trying to arrange for 12 months, but my office refused, saying the supermarket chiefs would never sit down together. They never tried to get them and today the chiefs came in very willingly. And Nick got the promise from them that I wanted, to have better labelling on British meat and to source abroad only from animals whose welfare standards are as good as our own. Nick handled it well and was very clear in what he wanted to get out of the meeting.

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Again, he was good at a later meeting with the Labour agriculture committee in the Commons. But he spoke the whole time himself and never brought the rest of his ministerial team in – we three sitting there like mute dummies. More interesting was that he told them details on the progress with the aid package for agriculture, which I certainly, and think Jeff and Elliot, did not know because we had not been told. Including that he had had a ‘meeting with the Chancellor’, which has never been in any diary or minute. Presumably that was a meeting in the Commons where Gordon promised his favourite progeny that he would help him out. I passed Jeff a note saying, ‘It’s worthwhile coming to these meetings so we can learn what is going on in MAFF!’ We ministers have still not had a face-to-face meeting on policy in three months.

Wednesday 4 November 1998 Went to a fascinating discussion on the US mid-term elections at the American Embassy in Grosvenor Square. Astonishing result in that Clinton and the democrats actually GAINED seats when all the forecasts were that they would be massacred. The Republicans and the media had based their campaigns and coverage on the assumption that Clinton would be punished for his sexual misdemeanours. In fact, the American public is sensible enough to separate his private life, which they don’t like, but understand that few of us are perfect saints, from his excellent public performance as a president. Stayed for a big vote where we were heavily defeated on the European elections, then off by train to Cambridge to address the dinner of the horticulturists. Important, because of the row over my allegedly ‘pulling out’ of their Guernsey conference. So I made a big effort to please them. A cheerful dinner which I enjoyed. Comedian Lance Percival made the fun speech after me, with some old and some smutty jokes of the kind I dare not tell. Percival is older even than me and earns his living on the speech circuit. He told me he gives about 70 speeches a year, and the organisers told me they pay him over a thousand pounds a time. So that is not a bad income for giving basically the same speech and jokes each time – nearly twice what I am paid for having to attend MAFF and such dinners on cold nights in Cambridge. He has more sense and a better deal than me.

Thursday 5 November 1998 Went to the Meat and Livestock lunch and made a brief speech. At the beautiful old National Liberal Club library, now a restaurant. I said in my speech

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that the beauty of the setting demonstrated how ‘extinct parties can have beautiful relics’. I meant the Tories, but Charles Kennedy protested, thinking I had the Liberals in mind. Sat next to Don Currie, who said he felt that ‘funny things are happening at MAFF’. He had told Nick he was sending him a letter – and Nick said ‘Don’t send it to the department. Send it to me privately at the Commons.’ Don is a tall straight Northumberland farmer and doesn’t like trickiness. Admirable man. Back to the Lords and on the way Simon said he wanted a private word. He was worried Grimley might see us talking together, so we went up to the Lords second floor and stood in a dark remote corner. He said, ‘Things are very bad in MAFF. The atmosphere is sinister.’ He went on that Packer controls the minister’s office in a way that was impossible under Dr Cunningham. He is now trying to control the junior ministers – or shut them out. Packer has apparently sent for Peter Grimley several times. Peter was recently failed for promotion (for loyally not betraying me to the department) and has, according to Simon, ‘been instructed to promise his future fealty to Packer and not to me’. Packer also sent for Simon and grilled him about my recent off-the-cuff remark that MAFF is ‘not sufficiently numerate’. Packer was trying to prove I was doing something punishable and was ‘taking notes’ for his black book. Simon thinks it is so he can report me to the Cabinet Secretary and try to get me removed in the next reshuffle. Simon did not play ball and tried to defend me. So now he is being offered promotion to Brussels to get him out of the way. If you cannot control them, you move them. Simon is a decent lad and is appalled at the games going on in MAFF. He still holds the curious idea that one (not the only) duty of a private secretary is to work on behalf of his minister. I suspect that with those Bolshevik views he won’t last at MAFF too long. Packer is trying the same control moves with Jeff Rooker. He tried to steal Jeff ’s lovely private secretary Karen and to move her into Nick’s private office, so actually working under him. She turned it down. Partly because she prefers working in her own office under Jeff. Partly ‘after what has been going on here in the past few weeks’. I told Margaret Jay and Denis Carter of these developments and they were concerned – especially since MAFF is still not working d ­ epartmentally with Health. Margaret also saw my personal position and said ‘that is too boring and you can do without that hassle’. Then I went to see Jeff in his Commons office and he told me the above about Karen. He has more evidence of papers relating to his direct ministerial responsibilities not ­ being circulated to him – and those involving Health not being copied

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to the Department of Health. He is going to see Tessa Jowell, health minister, on Monday, and has asked her to have her permanent secretary with her so he can tell them that they have not been copied all relevant documents. Interestingly, Edwina Currie, former Tory health minister, was on the radio recently saying this is exactly what happened during the Major ­government over BSE – that MAFF kept the information from Health (and that was the same MAFF management then). Packer’s impressive plan to regain control of MAFF – by controlling Nick (already achieved) and then to squeeze out Jeff and me (already well advanced) – is intriguing for any old Whitehall observer to watch. I enjoy watching it as an observer and, objectively, admire the permanent secretary’s ruthless Yes Minister skills. But, ministerially, I don’t enjoy the experience. Nick clearly has a separate campaign. He needs to restore his p ­ olitical reputation after his demotion from the Whips’ office. He shrewdly thinks he can be a Big Success at MAFF by leaving the policy detail to Packer, and himself in the big agriculture picture becomes popular with the farmers by ‘listening to them’, seeming to believe all their ­complaints and getting for them a helpful financial package from his friend the Chancellor. He will also cash in on Jack’s work by finally getting the EU beef ban lifted. It is also part of his scheme to grab all the good h ­ eadlines for himself (most top ministers do that). So this week his office forbade me to issue a press release on the promises I had received from the food retailers on regional sourcing of foods. The only release allowed was on Nick’s welcome success with labelling. He also sneaked off to an army barracks with all the media to see him eat the first British beef served to the troops – only possible since I persuaded John Spellar (very w ­ illingly) to switch to British beef sourcing. Grimley had told Nick’s office of our idea to do that with the army. His visit was not in his c­ irculated diary, so I wouldn’t see it and didn’t learn of it till after he had gone. Doesn’t worry me, but it is inconceivable that Jack would do anything as sneaky as that. Nick has also taken over the FSA and is squeezing Jeff out of it, although Jeff has done all the work. Not happy team work. Jeff is very agitated about the FSA because it looks as if Packer wants to retreat from the previous commitments Jeff has given to Parliament about food safety. Not a happy ship.

Saturday 7 November 1998 Watched Guilder run well third at Uttoxeter. Early to bed ready for long flight to Japan tomorrow.

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Sunday 8 – Monday 9 November 1998 Flew to Japan through the time gap, all day Sunday and arrived Monday morning. Grimley and colleague Neil Thornton away to my left and little communication. I always go into zombie mode on long flights. Beautiful sunny crisp autumn day, and Tokyo seemed less hectic and jammed than I recall. Superb suite in the New Otani Hotel – and the manager outside waiting to greet me as ‘honoured guest’. They know how to treat ministers there. Arriving in the Ambassador’s Rolls-Royce helped with the impression, though me in my sports shirt, no tie and a white training shoe on my bad foot may not. Plunged into a string of meetings. Our impressive Ambassador, David Wright, is a busy man, trouser turn-ups down over his shoes and not the usual smooth slim elegance. Said Blair made a great impact when he came in January. Afternoon meeting with my equivalent junior agriculture minister. He very concerned to retain protection for the uneconomic Japanese rice industry. I am culturally sympathetic to that, having watched the peasants culling rice here, but my official brief is not, sticking to the strict neoliberal economic market line, that anyone who is not world competitive must be eliminated. Sees people and workers as commodity units in the market game. Don’t like that. People have social, community and family roles, even as rice growers. Should be protected. I am Old Labour in that. Then two visits to the heads of top supermarkets, trying to get access for our exporters. Had my familiar, awful haunting dream about loneliness. This theme has threaded through my life, the search for company, the fear of loneliness. Hence my walks around my Northants village in my teens hoping to meet somebody I knew, calling in on neighbours. Repeated in Parliament Hill Fields, calling in on the Grahams and the Reads and others for a chat. And the feeling that I have had so many good friends but somehow have lost many of them, either drifted away or more often dead, as with my brother Clem, Gerry Fowler, Stella Alexander, beautiful Parisienne Francoise and so on. That is why Graham and Nori and Joe are so precious. I shall be desolate if anything happens to them, or especially to Sarah and Honey. One’s childhood matters and never really goes away. Material for simple psychobabble analysis, I suppose.

Tuesday 10 November 1998 Breakfast alone in the 40th floor restaurant with wonderful views over vast Tokyo city. Then walked in the sunshine in the beautiful hotel garden,

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paths through trees and bridges over streams full of huge vivid carp. A little temple hidden among the trees. Made a speech opening an exhibition of British food products – mainly the teas, biscuits, confectionery, and especially whisky, which are our staple food exports here. Then a tough meeting with the ancient head of their number one supermarket chain, at least 90 and very sleepy with lizard eyes  – I wonder what he was doing in 1942–45? Making railways? Straight back to a reception and another speech. English food served and the Japanese guests piled in without prejudice. The treacle and ginger puddings disappeared in a flash. That is what we should be exporting! My foot was getting very sore so was pleased to adjourn to a traditional Japanese restaurant – I love their food best of any in the world. About 17 delicious courses. Feel it has been a satisfying visit, though very tiring, never adjusting to the time change.

Wednesday 11 November 1998 Armistice Day, and pleased that Britain has reverted to the two-minute silence and respect for those millions dead. A splendid flight back, very comfortable with the new seats, which, on the press of a button, become long beds, in a small private alcove. Talked for half an hour with Neil Thornton, able deputy secretary in charge of the food side, about my problems with the department. Said I didn’t want to be seen as a carper, but set out my problems, especially the slow response rate to my requests, and the lack of interest in my policy ideas and initiatives, good or bad. He made a good defence case for the department and said he would see what he could do to quicken them up. I deliberately didn’t mention Packer because I didn’t want it to seem like a witch hunt. Anyway, the problem is Whitehall institutional, not just him. Afterwards I saw him writing a long note. Wonderful views over Siberia and Russia, endless expanses of snow and ice, never saw a tree or inhabitation for hours. Just two electric lights shining in the white vastness. Would be awful to crash land there. Maggie collected me at 3.00 pm and drove home to a wonderful welcome. The new garden has been dramatically cleared, bringing light and wide vistas to our house. Actually enjoyed that visit, perhaps sensing it is my last time in Japan. I still enjoy their manners, courtesies and style.

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Thursday 12 November 1998 The front bench was very good. Report from Cabinet on imminent attack on Iraq. And of a possible renewed alliance with the Liberal Democrats (which worries me, not liking their overweening sanctimony). Apparently, their leader Paddy Ashdown was surprised to learn of their anarchic behaviour in the Lords, cannot control them, and told our side to deal direct with him. He has no confidence in their Lords leadership – which means Bill Rodgers, John Harris, Roy Jenkins and the old SDP gang. The vote I returned for was again lost, by 40, so had I stayed longer in Japan we would have lost by 41! Big deal. We had our biggest vote ever at 194, but were beaten by the Tory hereditaries. Without them we would have won. So their fate is sealed. Jeff Rooker came to join me and said ‘Things are yet again even worse.’ Nick has written to No. 10 suggesting a big retreat from our commitment to a Food Standards Agency, abandoning it and suggesting replacing it with just a First Steps Agency. This is intolerable, since that would have no statutory authority, would not be independent, because that would remain partly connected to MAFF (which may be the objective). No copies of this memo were sent to anybody, not to Jeff as the minister directly responsible, nor to Health, who are due to be the lead ministry. It is a betrayal of all our 1997 election and Commons commitments. Jeff gave me a copy of one of the 3 million leaflets that we circulated in supermarkets in the election promising to set up an independent agency removed from the agricultural producers. No. 10 have responded to Nick’s suggestion of a First Steps Agency by telling him to discuss it with Frank Dobson, who hopefully won’t wear it. This is a tricky situation, with Jeff now running his own policy on different lines from his minister. He is justified, because his policy accords with Party policy and Blair’s firm commitments. On Monday, he had his meeting with Tessa Jowell and privately showed her copies of the MAFF memos to No. 10, which had not been copied to Health. Last Saturday, before going to Japan, I phoned Alf Dubs and warned him that MAFF was trying to announce the aid to farmers package alone – without Northern Ireland or Scotland – so Nick could get all the credit. Today Alf told me that he had informed Mo and she insisted on being at Monday’s meeting of the PM with the farmers. He also told John Sewel at the Scottish Office, who warned Donald Dewar, who also went. I had told Nick’s private secretary that I insisted on seeing him to discuss my Monday FSA question. So Nick turned up in the central lobby at 6.30 pm and we went at his request to the crowded Lords bar for drinks

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and a chat. He seemed jumpy and distracted. Don’t know if it was because of his miserable outing in the awful News of the World this weekend as a homosexual, or tension from his talks with the Treasury this afternoon on his rescue package. He still doesn’t have full agreement. The Treasury is insisting on him making some compensating savings, which is difficult to do. But he is confident he will have a deal by Monday, which is the deadline the PM has set him for a statement on the package. He expects to have about £120 million for the farmers, which is quite big. Schools or nurses could do with something extra as well. He complained that the Scots and Northern Irish had muscled in on his package talks and were there with Blair and the farmers – ‘They are trying to steal the credit.’ I nodded. And on the key issue of the FSA, he simply said, ‘Don’t mention a draft bill’. He didn’t say anything about his moves to sideline the FSA or his proposals for a First Steps Agency to replace it. So once again, we junior ministers are sent into battle at Question Time without any information on what is really going on in the department. Jeff had PQs on Wednesday and told me he rewrote the answers very carefully so that it would not later look as if he had misled the House. The central point is that this was our first policy meeting together since our casual meeting in the lift on his taking office nearly four months ago – and this one took place in a busy bar in the House, with no scope for serious policy discussion. That is not a situation that can continue for long.

Friday 13 November 1998 Ominous date, so took things carefully. News full of impending attack on Iraq. Grey cold day, and Sarah and I spend some time planning the landscaping of our new bigger garden. I am excited in principle, provided I am not expected to do the actual physical gardening. Nice if we could let the new field to someone with a horse I can talk to. Watched the racing from Cheltenham, including the great cross-country race based on the Czech classic. Irish horses in the first four after the initial English leader was taken the wrong way by a jockey ominously named Dobbin.

Saturday 14 November 1998 Survived Friday the 13th without visible damage. Watched good racing from Cheltenham in the afternoon and modest football in the evening,

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including Liverpool’s continuing collapse – beaten for third time in a row at home, usually not beaten once in a row. Very tense atmosphere waiting for the Americans to bomb Iraq.

Sunday 15 November 1998 Watched Cheltenham again. Always at the start I feel that I wish I were there, but at the end am pleased I can straight away switch off the TV, have a cup of tea and read, and don’t have that grim journey back in the dark up the A40. Jeff phoned. Things very tense. The press, including Jeff ’s friend Bevins, now have the story of MAFF backtracking on the FSA. We will have to keep our heads down. But I cannot, since I have two PQs, a statement and a debate all coming up in the Lords. Next week should be fascinating. Facing a possible crunch this week, I decided to activate my political network. First I spoke to Tessa Jowell, old close friend and now Commons minister of public health. Told her the story and passed on my suggestion of immediately moving the FSA officials out of MAFF and into Health and calling the merged unit a Commission in the interim before ­legislation. She was attracted and said she would pass it on to Frank Dobson. Then talked to Helene Hayman, our Lords health minister, and made sure she will be sitting on our front bench when I do the FSA question tomorrow. This will project the unity of our two departments and leave no ­impression of MAFF going it alone. Finally, phoned John Sewel in Scotland, and ­suggested he join me on the front bench when I am doing the agriculture debate on Wednesday, and that I would be happy for him to intervene on any ­particularly Scottish part. He was delighted, having felt shut out by MAFF before. He will tell Donald Dewar. Now the network is in place and ­supportive. We have Jack Cunningham operating from the Cabinet Office and Ann Taylor on board as chief whip. And Alf Dubs and the Northern Irish are grateful for me for tipping them off to participate in the aid package. So I might have a little friendly credit to draw on from colleagues. Nick seems to enjoy operating on his own so we might as well formalise that. Of course what we don’t know is what Blair said to Nick when he appointed him. Might have asked him to drop the FSA – remember he said to Jack to find some ‘retired Colonel’ to run it quietly. If so we are bound to lose the final battle for a legislative agency. But can still get the compromise unit out of the clammy producer grips of MAFF.

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Monday 16 November 1998 Straight up from country to Holborn where gave a speech to a pig seminar of the Meat and Livestock Commission. Back for one of my rare visits to MAFF. Briefing on this afternoon’s PQ on the Food Standards Agency. The senior civil servant apologised for not being able to help very much, saying ‘None of us know what is going on. We know the Minister has changed things but none of us know how.’ I decide to play a straight bat on most of it, but to go as far as possible to commit us to the new FSA. Have arranged with Nick Rea for him to ask that our civil servants dealing with it be transferred to Health, even before we get the legislation. At least we will get separation from MAFF and the food producers. Watched Nick Brown on TV do the statement on £120 million of aid to the farmers. Very good. The farming press are raving over him because he ‘listens’ to them. And Phil Bassett came into our bar in the evening and said No. 10 is pleased with Nick because he gets such a favourable press. I said to Phil that by ‘listen’ they mean giving them hundreds of millions, and, providing we keep giving them hundreds of millions, he will still have a good press. No. 10 rates everything and everybody by the media coverage. My statement went OK and I managed to suppress my desire to say that I thought some of this extra money should be going to disabled kids. Went to the bar afterwards with William Astor and caught up with his activities. Clearly doing well in the City. He was critical of MJ’s handling of the ­hereditaries, saying she is ‘not allowing us to go out with dignity’. She is quite tough. But is right to stand her ground on reform or nothing would happen. Sat with Mary Goudie and journalist Cristina Odone, discussing political Catholics, how there are more Labour Catholics than Tory.

Tuesday 17 November 1998 Hobbled down to the Poule au Pot for nice lunch with Cathy McGlynn, Jack’s former adviser. Cathy is at Bell Pottinger PR firm and working hard. Had tea at the Lords with Melvyn Bragg. Is enjoying the Lords, has lost some weight and looks very trim. He hates our press but says they don’t bother him. Must learn from him. Dashed home just in time to go to Santini with Max and Jane Rayne and Jocelyn Stevens and Vivien Duffield. A nice occasion, though one tense

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period when I said I liked Henry Carnarvon. Jocelyn and Vivien went berserk. But we soon calmed down. Jane Rayne was lovely as always, interested in my extended family. She seemed worried about Max, who suddenly appeared old. Old age is awful. Talked to Vivien a lot about Covent Garden. She is terribly upset as it falls apart. Says the new chairman from EMI is hopeless, exhausted and burned out. Thinks Chris Smith is weak. Says we should simply give the Opera House an extra £20 million a year. Fears in the end it will collapse, they won’t get enough subsidy, and she and the Sainsbury donors will walk away taking their money. ‘Then the ENO will be the only opera house in London.’ Despite all her bluster and bullying, she is a good person who really cares about the Arts and has given huge amounts of time and money to the Arts in London. Made me sad talking to her – and wish I were at Culture and able to strive for more money for them – and getting reform in return. Vivien also told me that in the summer Peter Mandelson stayed for two weeks at the Cipriani in Venice. Arranged by Carla Powell. Vivien said, ‘He is very vulnerable. He will be done over by the press one day.’ Especially because he is so able. Unforgivable, that.

Wednesday 18 November 1998 Another bright cold day. Spent morning at home doing hard homework for this afternoon, when I have two PQs and a big debate on the state of agriculture. Jeff phoned, in great form. Says never invited to Nick’s room, although just down the corridor, and goes into MAFF even less than I do. Elliot is permanently visiting his regions, and Nick is often abroad, so MAFF is bereft of ministers. That will suit some civil servants who hate ministers anyway. Jeff was also amused that his wife had bought for him some bison on the bone for his Christmas supper. He has just learned it is illegal, banned by himself because it is beef on the bone. Better keep that out of the Daily Mail! Lunched in the Home Room with Jim Callaghan and Denis Healey. Jim told us how the miners’ leader, Alec Kitson, came to him and wept when begging him to stay on in the leadership after losing the general election of 1979 – ‘I did, but it was a mistake, and probably deprived Denis of the leadership’. He was ribbing Denis, who is going to vote against the leadership today on the European bill when it comes back to us for the third time. Denis was never strong on party political judgement, as

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Jim commented afterwards. Jim said it was OK to vote against your own party at the beginning stage of a bill, to register the point, but after that abstain. Jim also complained ‘My legs have completely gone. It’s arthritis.’ He has aged a lot and shortened at least 5 inches since we were in No. 10. He also said that he hoped he out-lived Audrey. ‘She couldn’t cope without me now.’ My two PQs went well. On the FSA, I state that we would certainly have an Agency, and that, if not done immediately, then it should anyway be separated from MAFF. That should pre-empt the issue – or get me the sack! The agricultural debate was almost a disaster, with me nearly missing it. The preceding business suddenly collapsed and I only just got into the chamber in time. My officials were not there, still in MAFF, and so I did not have my final official draft speech. So I ad-libbed my speech from notes as I went along. It was a bit rambling and long. The European bill dragged on a bit, with everyone repeating the same arguments they had used on the three previous occasions. The Tories had a lower vote this time but still won. There was a tense atmosphere in the crowded chamber as the result was announced. The point is that it is only through the hereditaries that the Tories win so much. These antics make the case for their abolition.

Friday 20 November 1998 Tired from a heavy week. My work is now in Parliament, where I answer questions on policies which I play no part in shaping. Phoned Petronella Wyatt, now living at home with her widowed mother. Out, so talked to widow Verushka. Sounded very tragic, plunging straight into the Woodrow Diaries saga. ‘It is terrible. Everybody is complaining. Everybody is attacking me. I knew nothing about it.’ I said they should have had more humour. She said, in her husky Hungarian drawl, ‘Nobody in England has any humour. They are all angry.’ I said that if any man were rude to her, I would punch him on the nose – repaying the many free Ascot lunches Woodrow gave me at the Tote’s expense. ‘You will be punching a lot of noses.’ But a useful warning: publishing diaries can make enemies! Jeff phoned in the early evening. He had confirmed on Thursday with Ann Taylor, Nick’s successor as chief whip, that on being switched to MAFF, Nick went straight from No. 10 back to the whips office and wiped the computers. ‘Worse, he damaged them so badly that they were unusable

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and had to be replaced.’ Anne confirmed that all the files had disappeared and nobody knew where they had gone (into Nick’s political office with his special advisers in MAFF). No. 10 knows all this. What on Earth can he have been so frightened of? On Thursday morning Nick came in uncharacteristically early and sent for Jeff. He asked about the Express story and the Wednesday Channel 4 story critical of Packer, clearly implying that Jeff was behind it. Jeff denied it vehemently, pointing out it was clear from the story that it was from No. 10 briefing (Alastair Campbell did it). Said he ‘would sue anyone who said it was me’. Nick accepted this and said the matter was ‘now closed’. Wonder if he and Packer now think it was me. I never spoke to Bevins and did not even know about the TV story. But the facts would not save me. Jeff said that for next summer’s Royal Show he will refuse to go with other ministers in a team ‘to show the united team, because there isn’t any team of ministers in MAFF. Nick can go alone.’

Sunday 22 November 1998 To mass. Father Flanagan talked about the difficulties of loving others. Recalled going to a 60th wedding anniversary. Asked the husband had he ever thought of divorce in 60 years. Replied: ‘No, never, not divorce, as a Catholic that is morally wrong. But murder, often.’ Nice lunch with Sarah’s family. Colin Ingleby-Mackenzie pleased to be shot of the MCC presidency and all that low-level politics. Lucky man going to Adelaide for the second test.

Monday 23 November 1998 Everyone expecting the beef ban to be lifted today in Brussels. That is the result of a lot of hard work and our first real success in this area. Jack did 90 per cent of the work but no doubt Nick will manage to claim all the credit. Still he may need that. He has had his aid package and now the lifting of the ban. Not much else in the MAFF locker now. Then up to London for the annual pre-Queens Speech party in No. 10. Enjoyed the party, seeing lots of friends in very nostalgic surroundings. Though they have changed the procedures. No slamming of the doors to the white drawing room and reading of the Queens Speech, as happened in my day here (doors slammed to stress the confidentiality). Was standing with Jeff and Elliot discussing the latest aspect of the Nick computer scandal,

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when Jack Cunningham came up and chatted – the old team, still very comfortable together. Told us that Brown and Packer are writing to the Cabinet Secretary demanding a leak inquiry into the recent press comment on them. Jack said he told Richard Wilson, ‘All I can tell you is that he has broken up a very good ministerial team.’ Nick Brown did not have a good history with computers. After he left, Ann Taylor, very kittenish, enjoying being chief whip, said, ‘The Nick Brown computer damage was very serious, costing well into five figures. And we have billed MAFF for the costs of repairs and replacement.’ The cheque hasn’t arrived yet, but MAFF is ‘not quibbling the responsibility’. The importance of this is that it is public money and, as Anne said, ‘will have to be in the published accounts somewhere’. Any MP could ask about that. It is a ticking time bomb. She said, ‘Jonathan Powell in No. 10 knows.’ Walked out into freezing Downing Street with Graham Allen and Alastair Campbell, then took car to Jenny Lo’s for a quick meal and then home.

Tuesday 24 November 1998 State Opening of Parliament on another cold and dank day. I worked on papers and then on to a drinks reception in the Lord Chancellor’s apartment. Absolutely packed, some in ermine drag. Relieved I never go to the ceremony in the Chamber: always too long and too crowded. And don’t do pantomime dress. Margaret Jay looked extremely regal, more so than the Queen, I thought. Mary Wilson came up to chat to us, very friendly to me, but made sharp reference against Joe Haines. She said, ‘I’m Old Labour.’ I always thought she was old Tory. Many comments that MPs had cheered when the Queen announced the removal of the hereditary peers (Speech normally heard in deferential silence). Duke of Norfolk told me that the Queen afterwards said, ‘Rather rude, don’t you think?’ Went to lunch in crowded peers dining room with Joe Haines and Roger Easterby (who helped run our 1974 second election campaign and successfully adopted ‘Hello Dolly’ to ‘Hello Harold’, and is now PR to the Tote). Joe was recalling old Max Miller jokes and songs – ‘Sweetest little fellow, wears his sister’s clothes; don’t know what to call him but I think he is one of those’. Quoted at length from ‘Eskimo Nell’ and the ‘Lay of the Last Minstrel’. Roger sang some marvellous late ’40s and early ’50s pop songs. He produces a local Kent radio programme devoted to these songs and has a devoted audience who flood him with letters.

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He knows what was top of the pops and which record label for all of that time. They both have huge collections of vinyl LP records. The Channons at the opposite table kept looking at us as if we were odd, but we had a great time. Afterwards to the concrete tower of the MoD to talk to John Spellar about serving more British lamb to the troops. Fiendishly expensive because our lamb is so much more costly than the New Zealand competition, and we have an obligation to source the cheapest. But John was very positive and we agreed to try to find a way. Proves the role of ministers. The officials rightly pointed out the technical obstacles and concluded nothing could be done. We said, ‘Find a way to do it’. I pointed out that if Churchill in 1943 had asked, ‘Can we invade France in June 1944?’, he would have been given 50 good official reasons why not. But that is their proper role – to say ‘Wait a minute and think about it.’ Evening gave dinner for Michael and Anne Heseltine at Harry’s Bar. Michael looked very well, much better than when in government. We chatted about politics, him full of shrewd observations, until twigged by Anne, who has had enough of that political stuff and views Sarah and me as friends. He asked me what had most changed in government since I was last there? I said the decline in the quality of the civil service. He said that ‘MAFF is a particularly bad case’. Then asked, ‘Is that terrible man Packer still there?’ He had fought him over the privatisation of ADAS. He asked, almost with a tinge of envy, if I was enjoying being a minister and I said ‘Mixed.’ He looked surprised and said, ‘I always enjoyed it. But I was at better ministries than you. And you were spoilt and given too high expectations by starting at the top at No. 10.’ Michael asked what has been Tory leader Hague’s ‘biggest mistake?’ He said, ‘Beating Ken Clarke and getting elected.’ Thinks Hague may be out even before the election, though took my point that it might suit the Tories to let him be the punch bag and take the blame for the inevitable next election defeat. Believes what he calls ‘the North American Press’ – Black’s Telegraph and the Murdoch gang – have an agenda to get Portillo elected on an anti-EU ticket. He is amused by New Labour, which he thinks is very thinly spread in the Party, especially thin in the Northern provinces, but is greatly impressed by Blair. ‘We Tories have to get rid of Blair before we can ever win.’ If PM, the first thing he would do is ‘get rid of all these special advisers. They contribute nothing and have their own personal agendas and leak to the press.’ He did not mean experienced policy specialists like his

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own Peter Levine, whom he found very useful. He has no idea what most of our present Labour ministers are like. Never sees them because ‘These days nobody goes into the Commons unless they are actually performing.’ Michael is still a very big lion compared to the little chipmunks who now surround Hague. Everything he said was wise and politically perceptive. I felt I was closer and better with him than ever before. Anne was in great form. May give up hunting – a close friend just paralysed after a fall. Said she had defended me against the attacks of the Exmoor farmers, where she has a cottage, and they came round when they heard I had been a director at Towcester National Hunt racecourse.

Wednesday 25 November 1998 Travel on the train to the Birmingham Exhibition Centre for the food show. Excellent displays of British food, which I enjoy encouraging. Returned for statement on lifting the beef ban. On the train, Grimley told me that Nick had unilaterally decided to impose the government car service on us again. I had been working on changing that to save a lot of money for a year, with Jack’s backing, and found that with the GCS we got worse cars for more money, and could save the department tens of thousands by going private. He had not even consulted me. He hasn’t a clue how to run a team or a department.

Thursday 26 November 1998 Went in to our third ‘political meeting’ at 9.00 am. Elliot Morley, Liz Lloyd, Ruth Kelly, two silent special advisers and the Party people. Jeff and Denis Carter missing since it was arranged only at the last minute. Nick handled it well, though very formal and only a couple of items on the agenda. More bad news coming up, especially critical report on our meat hygiene inspectors. Then Nick rose, said ‘end of meeting’, pointed to a couple of others and said ‘come to my room’ and left Elliot and me there. Had hoped to raise the car issue, but no chance. Never meets his ministers informally. What is he scared of? Back to the office to interview three candidates to replace Simon as my assistant private secretary. All solid citizens, though pretty uninspiring. Grimley steered me towards a particularly solid one, who exuded MAFF aroma. I inclined to the least solid: a lady, who had been in MAFF for only two years, and might still be relatively uncontaminated feed. But I could see she might be difficult. So I conceded.

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Desperate to get to the country – but Maggie announced that our battered old Vauxhall car had broken down again and we waited an hour while a man from the Government Car Service arrived to put it right – he took so long because he didn’t know how to get to Victoria. This Government Car Service is a truly Rolls-Royce machine!

Friday 27 November 1998 Jeff phoned in the afternoon, in great form and full of MAFF stories. Told me that Packer has sent the security men to go through our desks and belongings. Part of the leak inquiry – though we have not been officially informed of this. Another demonstration of the Stalinist regime that has now been imposed, full of paranoia and obsessive conspiracy. Which one is Beria? Jeff is delighted that we have won six–love on the Food Standards Agency. Nick was preparing to issue a press release that left its creation still in doubt. But No. 10 intervened while he was in Brussels to forbid its release and impose another one that confirmed we will publish a draft bill. No doubt Jack and Alastair had something to do with that. Jeff is on to some cover-up over the damaging effects of sheep dips. He has evidence the chemical industry intervened with the ‘independent’ Veterinary Products Advisory Committee to stop advice being issued warning of the dangers of shearing sheep long after the dips. He is rootling hard, like a good Jack Russell after a rat. He is dealing with Margaret Mar and the organophosphate campaigners, direct via the Commons and not through the Department – where letters from them usually get held up for two months. He has made a special appointment to see Nick next Tuesday – that is the only way he can get to see him. Will then raise with him the conduct of the ministerial team – ‘wearing my shop stewards hat’. Will ask him, ‘If his ministers are ever to get an opportunity to talk with him alone on political policy issues?’ Of course, whatever he says to mollify Jeff, nothing will really happen. In the evening drove to Oxford for dinner in the Balliol Master’s Lodging with Andrew Graham, my cracking economist in the Policy Unit, and his feisty wife Peggitty. Chatted longest with Jeremy Hardie, now chairman of WHSmith. Used to be don at dreary old Keble, but enjoyed exciting business life since then. Told me sad news that Jim Griffin, a close friend when I was a graduate at Oxford, has lost his adored wife Catherine to cancer. But now has the Philosophy chair at Corpus. Realise no a­ ppointment

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would console me for the loss of Sarah, and don’t imagine it does Jim. Can see him now, young and aquiline, helping to show me how to shoot with his brother’s collection of genuine nineteenth-century cowboy guns in New Haven in 1958.

Saturday 28 November 1998 Decided to go to Newbury to watch Guilder and the Hennessy Gold Cup. Fortunately the rain had eased when I got there. The grey Teeton Mill easily won the Hennessy. And poor Guilder was pulled up, out of sorts, though we don’t yet know why. That is jump racing. Saw Henry Carnarvon, in great form, and the Queen Mum, diminutive and bravely handing over the Cup in the rain aged (I think) 98.

Sunday 29 November 1998 Watched England collapse again in Australia, though Hick made a rare contribution. Then off to the Smithfield Show to make my initiative on farming cooperatives. Resent working on a Sunday, and especially on the only bright day of the autumn. But cooperatives would help. Excellent discussion in large theatre packed with agricultural experts. I spoke first and then Ben Gill of the NFU. A panel of four practitioners of cooperatives was good. Probably the best meeting I have attended since a minister.

Monday 30 November 1998 To London for lunch at Hyatt Carlton with the bookmakers to give their betting shop manager of the year award. Sat at top table with fine j­ournalist Brough Scott, charming Peter O’Sullivan and great jockey Lester Piggott – old ‘stone face’ gave a wonderful interview full of characteristic downbeat replies. Always remember when he was interviewed before the Derby and was asked for his secret grand strategy for winning the great race: ‘Try to make sure he starts, keep him out of trouble, and if he is in front, hold him there.’ No bullshit there.

Tuesday 1 December 1998 Now deep into winter and freezing cold outside. Set off to Cornwall by good train. Simon, who sadly leaves our office on Friday, is very open in discussion of MAFF. Says atmosphere bad. Young flyers frustrated, he says, because the key head of division positions are blocked by a bunch of aging

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unenterprising jobsworths, picking up £50,000 and a pension for doing little positive. He is appalled at Nick’s non-use of his ministerial team and Packer’s lack of interest in positive man-management – one reason so many things go wrong in the department. Whether people try to be efficient is totally optional and brings no recognition. Also says, MAFF’s terrible sick leave record is because civil servants can self-certify themselves as ‘sick’ for up to five days, as frequently as they like, which many do repeatedly – and usually on Fridays and Mondays to provide a nice long weekend. One of my staff is an example, always sick on a Friday. Broke the journey at Newton Abbot to inspect the racing facilities. Simon and I did the routine between the paddock and the tote and we had some winners. Nice country town course and decent local people. Drove on to Linton on the Tamar and Cornish border. Nice old coaching and fishing inn. More gossip in the car. Tom, the special adviser, is 23 and paid nearly as much as me. No news on the review of the MAFF Information Division, which was virtually complete in July but has now gone silent and possibly buried. Basically what has happened is that Nick has abandoned all our original thrust to change the culture of MAFF and make it more representative of the wider rural economy and responsive to the consumer. He has plunged MAFF back into being the outstation of the NFU, devoting his time to finding more money just for the farmers. This is paying off in the shortrun since the whole farm trade press is saying how wonderful he is and how much better than Jack. He is wallowing in their plaudits. But of course, in the long-run, the change will have to take place – and he won’t have £120 million to give the farmers every couple of months. The reason he has shut out Jeff and me is that he associates us with the new policy of changing the culture. He wants to reassure the farmers that that is not happening.

Wednesday 2 December 1998 Mixed sleep and woke early to give three pre-breakfast radio interviews over the phone. Journalists here very sensible and seriously interested in the issues. Took lovely walk above the village on lovely crisp cold morning, blowing my breath like smoke. Into the fourteenth-century church, full of local schoolchildren rehearsing the Xmas play. Made me think of the pleasures of moving deep into the real countryside. Back to excellent seminar where I launched a campaign to reduce ­accidents and deaths on farms – 255 farm workers died last year in Britain,

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the equivalent of 10 train crashes, but nobody takes any notice. Got good media coverage. Driving back to Exeter for the train, MJ phoned me to tell me of a good deal done with Cranborne and Tory and cross-bench peers on Lords reform, whereby they would allow the bill through quickly if we allowed them to keep a few dozen hereditaries. Suits everyone. We avoid a legislative gridlock. Negotiated skilfully by Derry Irvine with Cranborne. From Paddington, dropped back home and phoned Jeff, who told me that he had had a meeting with Nick last night, raising a list of policy points. On cars, Nick claimed not to have yet considered it, although my office tell me that a week ago he issued instructions to sign up for the Government Car Service and Grimley has already done that. Nothing was said on the FSA. Jeff then told him people knew that MAFF ministers never met and were beginning to go behind our backs and straight to him. Nick said ‘Wednesday mornings’ (two in six months). Jeff said, ‘That won’t do.’ Nick promised to do better. Went to a 4 o’clock ministerial committee at the Foreign Office on greater European coordination, under FCO minister Joyce Quin. In the elegant India Room, with the high ornate ceiling, fine big mahogany double doors, striking paintings of Warren Hastings and Eyre Coote. Eleven ministers were present, plus Alastair Campbell, who had drafted the ‘core message’, wanting a much more positive stance on Europe. He summed it up: ‘our position of Europe is Pro Europe and Pro Reform’. Wonder what it means, in detailed practice? I raised Agriculture, which was excluded from the document, although it is 50 per cent of the EU budget and here we are definitely pro-reform. Patricia Hewitt gave an appalling show-off performance, boasting of all her powers at the Treasury and contacts in Europe. We cringed, and Tessa Blackstone winked at me – not her favourite woman. I remember her in my constituency ward party, in the early ’80s, when she supported all Benn’s left-wing nonsense, including pulling out of Europe. Back to the Lords having watched the PM’s Commons question time on TV and witnessed an incredible performance by Hague. He revealed and denounced the shrewd compromise deal put together on Lords reform by his own Lords leader, Cranborne. Blair looked astonished, and most MPs had no idea what was going on as it had not been made public: Cranborne was about to tell his own Conservative peers and the cross-benchers were just holding a press conference to announce and support it. Uproar and turmoil followed. Journalists were cramming the corridors in the Lords, where groups of Tory peers stood around, stunned. Everyone was

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waiting for Cranborne to resign, but then we heard that Hague would not allow him to resign, but insisted on sacking him – juvenile machismo. Experienced Tory front-bencher Freddie Howe said, ‘Hague must be mad; it was a terrific deal for us.’ William Astor was stunned. Carnarvon and the cross-benchers were furious. Many said, ‘The wrong man has been sacked.’ I walked around the House talking to groups of desolate Tories – everyone supported the Cranborne deal and denounced Hague, saying he has ‘no judgement’ and ‘no understanding of the Lords’. At a meeting of the back-bench Tory peers, every speaker was against Hague – with him present. Denis Carter said he saw Cranborne and his chief whip Strathclyde going into his room carrying bottles of champagne as if to celebrate. All the Tory front bench offered to resign en bloc in support of Cranborne. Later we heard that Strathclyde has taken over the Tory leadership. Real old-style politics.

Thursday 3 December 1998 Newspapers and TV dominated by the Lords crisis and Hague’s appalling gaffe. I cleared some personal papers with Della and then to the ministerial meeting on ‘Risk in Health’ at Richmond House. Dobson, Tessa Jowell, Nick, Jeff and me. The new chief medical officer made a good presentation. We have come a long way since a year ago, when I first asked for a meeting on risk, since Whitehall seemed all over the place on it, banning some unrisky things and letting through others more risky. Hope to get a more rational and consistent approach to risk. I left to go to the Lords front-bench meeting. Much jubilation about the Tory chaos. More Tories are resigning, including Fraser, their deputy leader. Tristram Ricketts from the BHB came in with a man from the Equestrian Federation. We discussed my ideas for forming an umbrella group for the whole of the horse industry. Made progress and hope to put it together before Xmas.

Friday 4 December 1998 Simon phoned in the afternoon, his last before going to Brussels, to thank me and say how much he had enjoyed our working together. ‘I have learned more in the past year than in the rest of my life.’ A very nice young man. Very loyal to me. Enjoyed working with him. Not interested in playing the

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MAFF games and so ideal as my private secretary. Doubt if he will survive long there in Brussels. They will block him out for not playing their games. Andrew Higgins also phoned from Newmarket. Told him about the horse umbrella scheme where I want him involved. He said that Princess Anne liked our lunch and would like to meet again to talk horses. Wants to fix a date for me to go into Buckingham Palace. Probably mid-January.

Saturday 5 December 1998 Land covered in deep, white frost. Went to Sandown for lunch with William Hill. Good racing. Christmas is looming but I haven’t noticed, not done a single card. Hope Sarah will do them for me.

Sunday 6 December 1998 Perfect morning, fields covered deep white, sky blue and blazing low sun in the cold air. Took Honey for a long walk over the fields to the Bell, where Sarah picked us up to go to the garden centre – I am giving her a beautiful big greenhouse as her Xmas present. ‘Not too romantic’, as she gently complains, but very practical so she will accept. Will also get her a pretty ring as well, especially since I forgot last year.

Monday 7 December 1998 Off to Slovenia for the visit I had to cancel earlier, flying Gatwick to Trieste. Fine sunny day, lovely views of the Alps and Venice and Trieste below on the Adriatic. Drove two hours from Trieste to Ljubljana, through snow and mountains. Out to dinner with the Ambassador, tall, conventional FCO man, on his last post but seemed lively and enjoying Slovenia, a prosperous and pretty country with impressive people who are glad to be out of the barbaric Balkans and old communist Yugoslavia. Superb food and good local wine. Walked there and back with smoky breath, 15°f below freezing, pretty snow on the trees and nice quiet town, just like Austria.

Tuesday 8 December 1998 Bitterly cold and now 20°f below. Woke with an ominous cough (no doubt again caught on the plane) and off to series of meetings with their agriculture minister and officials. Very nice lot. Then to Parliament to ­ address their agriculture committee. Several press interviews and walked

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beside a river with lovely houses, and visited two fine churches, one Franciscan and one the cathedral, very Baroque with fine paintings, warm and well attended. Back to party at the Ambassador’s residence in a modern and ordinary house. Could not sleep because of nasty cough and developing fever. My third infection from an aeroplane in 12 months.

Wednesday 9 December 1998 We drove to a lovely stud farm at Lipica, where hundreds of the wonderful grey Lipizzaner horses are bred and trained for show jumping, then off to take the plane from Trieste. Straight from Gatwick to Shurlock Row and bed. Temperature 102. Honey very upset, sitting on the bottom of my bed and looking sadly at me.

Sunday 13 December 1998 Jeff phoned at 6.00 pm and said there had been ‘more events’. He was told by officials that Nick didn’t want him to attend the Food Safety Committee, which has been his job from the start. So Jeff confronted him. Nick of course collapsed, denied any such intention, and said, ‘Of course I want you to attend.’ Always retreats when confronted. But Jeff says he never sees him unless tracks him down and seeks him out – their offices are 10 yards apart on the same floor! Jeff also had the minutes of Packer’s weekly meeting with his deputy ­secretaries. It concluded with the statement that, ‘Morale in MAFF is greatly improved since the new minister’. Snide attack on Jack now he has gone. Morale improvement equates with the Permanent Secretary taking total control of the top minister and excluding the other ministers. Note that I not received copies of those minutes since last July’s ministerial change. Jeff is still buzzing and looking forward to our getting the FSA set up, despite the Department’s efforts to stop it. Jeff says the FSA bill will keep him going another six months and then he will resign. Not sure if I can wait for that.

Monday 14 December 1998 Joe Haines phoned and had talked to Richard Stott on the News of the World. Said they had a lot of unpleasant stuff on Nick. I don’t like that gutter journalism.

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Looked through a red box. Nasty minute from the Permanent Secretary suggesting I be stopped from seeing the Honours submissions. Nick has agreed. Circulated around the Department it shows everyone that I do not have his confidence, which is meant to be humiliating. But then he doesn’t have my confidence either.

Thursday 17 – Saturday 19 December 1998 Did over 10,000 words, with massive documentary support demonstrating the factual inaccuracies on my submission of my complaint to the Press Complaints Commission. Ought to win, but the PCC is in fact a stooge of the press barons who pay for it. Today they announced the appointment of the latest member – Paul Dacre, editor of the Mail. Very reassuring to ­citizens under libellous press attack from his newspaper! During past three days we had massive air attacks on Iraq. Saddam has broken every promise and, allegedly, continues to manufacture chemical weapons of mass destruction. Eerie sitting in bed watching on tv the explosions in Baghdad as the raids took place. Made it seem unreal, like some Star Wars film.

Sunday 20 December 1998 Venture out for the first time to mass. Father Flanagan in great form and lifted all our spirits. The children arrived for pre-Xmas lunch and presents. Delightful time. Lovely lunch at the Royal Oak – turkey and Xmas pud. Jeff phoned later and told me that on Wednesday, after the ‘team meeting’, he went to Nick’s room for an arranged meeting. Nick was gossiping with Lords chief whip Denis Carter and ‘told me he wasn’t yet ready. I pulled up a chair at the table. But he looked at me coldly and asked me to leave the room.’ Later Denis said he was embarrassed and they were only talking about minor chief whip gossip. Bizarre. That day the Express ran a frontpage story about Nick and the damaged computer.

Monday 21 December 1998 Very cold and fields covered in frost. Clinton and Blair have stopped the bombing because of Ramadan. Done great damage but ends in a whimper and little gained from it. Not quite one thing or the other. Not convinced they knew what they were doing.

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To London to do Xmas shopping. Also chatted with Denis Carter, who told me all about Nick asking Jeff ‘to leave the room’. Thought it ‘incredible, but I don’t know if Nick actually realises what he is doing’.

Tuesday 22 December 1998 First time in the Department for ages – my new assistant private secretary, Virginia, has been there for yonks and never seen me there. Excellent meeting with the horse industry. Agreed how to set up new umbrella governing body for the industry – to be called the British Horse Industry Confederation. Progress at last. Terrific lunch with Michael Bedford at the Ritz. Michael gave me a lovely copy of How Green was my Valley. I gave him a jigsaw of Rouen cathedral by Monet, just fuzzy impressionist colour, so I hope it might prove impossible to do. Went shopping with Sarah looking for her LAST year’s Xmas present, which is still owed. Harvey Nick’s had nothing so our main expedition must still lie ahead. Back to the office to interview a prospective replacement for Peter Grimley as my senior private secretary. Bright man, who said that his time in Brussels had opened his eyes and when he returned to London he ‘realised how appalling MAFF is’. Brownie points. Also said he was ‘astonished to find after the election that the policy submissions from top MAFF officials were identical to the ones they intended to put to the Tories. They did not take the change of government on board.’ Will see the internal lady candidate and ask if she can be independent of Nick’s office.

Wednesday 23 December 1998 Very dreary, grey and wet outside. Nice lunch with my ex-secretary, Simon, now enjoying Brussels. Says he may leave MAFF rather than have to come back to ‘Packer’s regime’. Peter Mandelson and Geoffrey Robinson have both resigned from the government – over a private loan between them. Cannot see why it is a resigning offence. Just a private matter. Terrible blow for Peter, so soon after he finally got into the Cabinet and doing well. But he is very sharp. Blair admires him, so he will be back in the Cabinet before too long. Geoffrey is different, older and more bruised. He had certainly done nothing wrong, but he won’t be back. I suspect he was about to go anyway. But he was also an effective minister, rare experience in finance, and will be missed in that sense.

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Back to the country in driving rain. Mandelson has been replaced by Stephen Byers from the Treasury, and the latter by Alan Milburn from Health. Looking forward to Xmas. TV full of Mandelson resignation. At last the media have some blood and have successfully ruined somebody’s career. They will have a happy Christmas now.

Thursday 24 December 1998 Christmas eve. Bright sunny cold morning, frost on the land, roads glassy with ice. Listened to nice carol service from Kings Cambridge, and read rich opening to Richard Llewellyn’s How Green was my Valley. Remember the film from the war when a child, but never read the book. Will enjoy it, with all those portraits of working class life in the late ’30s. The Welsh then were special, marvellous miners and steel workers, salt of the Earth and the working class, with great rugby and choirs and bands. Now it is all gone, with the coal mines closed. Sash and the two Georges arrived, loaded with presents, the space beneath the Xmas tree filling up. (My lovely daughters are in their own homes, and rightly look after their mother, Carol, over Christmas, but send me generous presents and telephone with loving messages.) I find all the parcels a bit too much. Reminds me of my childhood. When brother Clem and I had very little and it was cold in the house. And the feeling of exclusion as I walked around the village, looking in the lighted windows with their families and Xmas trees and seeming warm and happy. My father, on his own, did his courageous best, given his poverty and overwork. Still it is something we missed and I am not keen on being reminded of it. Lovely midnight mass in Twyford. Charles and I went, calling in first at the Bell in Waltham St Lawrence, though nobody there we knew anymore, so didn’t have a drink. Carol service already in full flow and church full. We got the last seats and no hymn books left. Father Flanagan did the mass. We loved it.

Friday December 25 1998 Grey wet and windy Christmas morning. But we had a wonderful time. Opened my stocking with lots of Sarah’s intriguing little prezzies. Honey also had a stocking. She mainly enjoyed tearing open the wrappings. My loving and loyal sons, Stephen and Paul, arrived and we set into a magnificent turkey and Xmas pud, probably the best I have ever had. ­

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Charles brought a superb magnum of 1970 claret. Afterwards watched Casablanca, and Ingrid Bergman made us all weep, as on the previous nine times I saw it. Then opened hundreds of prezzies from under the Xmas tree. Too many for comfort. George is especially extravagant and ends up giving everyone five.

Saturday 26 December 1998 Teeton Mill won the Kempton King George comfortably. Another great grey.

Sunday 27 December 1998 Terrible gales in the night and much damage in the North. Took Honey for a seriously long walk. Over fields deep under water, my boots and socks soaked. Read more of How Green was my Valley – physically difficult because it is a wartime edition, with small type and poor brown paper. Too ­sentimental. But wonderful portrait of an old-style working-class family in the valleys, dominated by chapel, with the unions growing, and great community spirit. They didn’t need police because they enforced the law themselves. At night found the classic film Gone with the Wind on TV satellite. Couldn’t switch off, hour after hour till nearly one in the morning. Genius performance by Vivien Leigh, perhaps the greatest female screen performance ever. Clark Gable wonderfully non-politically correct too. Great direction and lovely early colour photography. Will never forget Atlanta burning under siege.

Monday 28 December 1998 Finished How Green was my Valley, nearly in tears. Early to bed to start my book on Berlin, by a young lady named Ritchie. Watched England beat Australia by 17 runs. Great bowler Gough!

Wednesday 30 December 1998 No news. Still the witch hunt against Mandelson. The British – as Macauley rightly wrote – are in one of their periodic bouts and crusades of moralistic sanctimoniousness, led by the tabloid journos. From Profumo, through Lambton, to the poor Tories in 1994–97. Am really looking forward to living a private life and reading through the high pile of books beside my bed.

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Pack for Cornwall tomorrow. Honey watches sadly, thinking I am going away again, not knowing she is coming too. This is the end of my 1998. Tomorrow to Cornwall and so will copy this text to floppy disc and describe New Year’s Eve on the new 1999 file with New Year’s Day. Quite a year ending. Some pluses, especially Sarah and Honey, Jack and Jeff, Lords colleagues and friends and family. Some minuses, including the weather, the job, and my diabetic health – which may be linked. Cannot do much about the weather, but mean to improve the job and health situation next year. In fact, this time next year, much will be changed.

New Year’s Eve 1998 to New Year 1999 New Year’s eve woke feeling a lot better – actually determined to feel better – and we set off for Cornwall at 8.30 am. Sarah drove all the way. Settled into a lovely room at the Hotel Tresanton. Wild stormy day, sea blowing over the St Mawes sea wall. We went to the dining room, beautifully decorated and had superb dinner. Willie Shawcross again serving brilliantly with great style and humour; like him more each time. Sat after with Rocco Forte and his party – Paul Johnson and Marigold, Kenneth Rose and Drue Heinz (I first met her 25 years ago at the US embassy and always likeable). Olga told us about a funny Xmas and one lady guest who dropped out in protest that Verushka and Petronella Wyatt were there – Woodrow had written nastily about her in his published diaries. Drue was also angry that he had claimed her late husband had lots of affairs; she wondered who, fearing it might be some of her best friends. A warning to all diarists! The real lesson is not to tell nasty lies about nice people. Hope I don’t do that. We danced the New Year in and Sarah was very pretty and loving. But I had to retreat and collapse into bed, coughing and sweaty. This is an ­appalling virus.

Saturday 2 January 1999 Terrific breakfast brought to my room, looking over the wild sea and rocking boats in the harbour. Would have loved to walk around it but not feeling up to that. So we set off home a day early, Sarah drove back and home by 5.00 pm. Later I watched a video of Citizen Kane. Can see what a revolutionary film it was. And bravely caught the megalomania of the typical newspaper tycoon. But I wouldn’t say it was the greatest film ever, as many do.

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Sunday 3 January 1999 Nothing to lift the spirit in the newspapers. All stories mean-minded. At least the Spectator, although very reactionary, does it with style and a smile, so many left-wingers read it with pleasure. I certainly do. Read more of the marvellous book on Berlin. But leaves one feeling that some Germans may have terrible characters deep down. Worrying that they are now running Europe. David Owen came out in public today against the Euro. We have to decide whether to fully commit to go in there, put up with our minority status, and get what we can out of it. Or back out and join the USA as the 53rd state. I dither. David is always clear and decisive. Another wild day, but lovely sunshine in the conservatory in the afternoon, Joe Haines phones, as every Sunday. Told me he thinks Blair must get rid of Brown’s press man, Whelan. If he dare not do that, then has no authority. Joe is sure he leaked the story of the Mandelson loan.

Monday 4 January 1999 Morning, read Jack London’s Call of the Wild, wonderful story about dogs – and especially Butch, who gets good and bad treatment and finally returns to the wolves in the wild. Made Honey seem very tame. Charlie Whelan announced will resign soon. Necessary to preserve Blair’s authority. It has gone very wrong among those spin doctors. Much of it is old luggage and tensions from the Opposition. Blair is also weakened by losing Mandy, but would have been worse if he had not insisted on Whelan going. Alastair Campbell must be stronger now that the alternative media controllers have disappeared.

Wednesday 6 January 1999 Two red boxes. In one was a copy of Roy Jenkins’ article in the Standard on the recent Mandelson–Robinson nonsense. He says that with a press operating like this, none of our great historic statesmen could have survived long. Disraeli, Gladstone and Churchill all needed private loans to help them buy big houses. Britain would have been worse without them, and are no better for the present moralistic crusades. Nick Brown has organised a huge conference next Monday on the ‘Future of Farming’. I am actually minister for farming, but was not told or invited. Learn from my private office. Symbolically, it is being run and chaired by the Permanent Secretary. MAFF is now completely run by the officials. Pity that Blair is not interested. Agriculture is a sideline – the ‘Siberia’ for Nick’s exile.

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Thursday 7 January 1999 Into office to interview Therese, who I have already decided to employ as my private secretary – she is bright and competent. Then lunch with Elliot  Morley at 7 Millbank. He is less affected than Jeff and me. Nick and Packer are not interested in his main areas of fishing, animal welfare and environment, so he is left alone. Though Nick didn’t ask him before stealing his private secretary.

Friday 8 January 1999 In the red box was a paper by Packer in which my meeting with the horse industry is criticised. He says that the Minister had not given me permission. Dreadful stuff. Part of his campaign to shut me out. Write a stiff minute back.

Monday 11 January 1999 In the evening a message from the office saying the Mail and Standard had the story I am about to resign. Phoned No. 10, where the principal private secretary, Angus Lapsley, said he ‘hoped it wasn’t true’ I was leaving and that ‘it has never crossed No. 10’s minds.’ Phoned Alastair Campbell, Blair’s press secretary. Friendly and very supportive. Said that, as a long-time journalist, he knew the Maxwell speculation was ‘all lies’.

Tuesday 12 January 1999 Late for big meeting on Lords reform in the old Treasury Board Room, with its green fabric walls and lovely old portraits. Present: Margaret Jay in chair, very authoritative; Phil Bassett and Sally Morgan from No. 10. Charlie Falconer, Denis Carter, Liz Symons and Gareth Williams, ministers. Pat MacFadden, very good from the Party – the Party people today are far better than anything in my earlier days. Position is that the White Paper on Lords Reform is being cleared with Cabinet and has the PM’s approval. Published next week, then tight deadline for end of 1999 for the Commission to report. MJ said the Libs are being difficult, trying to out-radicalise us. Clive Solley said the Commons was totally ignorant on the subject and we must not have a repeat of the 1968–69 fiasco, when the proposed Lords reform was blocked by Michael Foot and Enoch Powell. Bassett was excellent on how to present the issues, as was his lady,

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clever Liz Symons, on the political problems of handling it in the Lords without an endgame. It clearly needs rapid central driving to meet the tight deadlines and the management of the Party and the Lords. This excellent committee must meet again soon and regularly to keep up the momentum. Back in the rain to the office. Grimley told me that ‘all junior ministers’ private offices are being shut out by the Minister, not by the Permanent Secretary. ‘It makes running the department impossible. It is unsustainable.’ Went to delightful annual Michael Bedford City lunch to discuss the ­performance of our annual market forecasts. I won this competition three years ago but am now well down the league. Afterwards back to office for briefing on tomorrow’s EU Agenda 2000 question. Dinner at Mimmo D’Ischia for Michael Portillo and wife, Carolyn, the Bedfords and Mort Sackler and Theresa. Chatted with Portillo, who is always intelligent. Interesting on ‘sleaze’. Dinner was very lively. Carolyn Portillo, sitting next to me, is a very nice and sensible person – no grandeur nor pretence.

Wednesday 13 January 1999 Dropped in on Jeff, who is in very chipper form. Said, ‘Pleased you are still here.’ I said I wasn’t sure I was pleased. Told me that last weekend’s headlines about Jack Cunningham’s alleged extravagance in using private aeroplanes came from MAFF, which was briefing against him – their recent minister. Jeff has seen a violent letter from Jack’s office to Nick, complaining. Clearly Nick thinks all Jack’s team are plotting against him. He used the word ‘plotting’ when talking to Elliot about our junior ministerial meetings. At the meeting, Jeff exploded about being excluded from last Monday’s big agriculture conference. But after that it went amiably. Went to lunch at St James’s Palace with Angus Ogilvy. Asked me what I thought of a new Royal Victorian Order to celebrate the Millennium, for community service and for the under-35s. Sounds good. And how to improve the Royal Family’s position. I gave my view that there should be a ringed fence around the ‘Official Family’, who do all the work and should be paid properly. The rest are Royal relatives but should not be the Official Family – that would protect the monarch from the activities of any wild young Royals. He showed interest and floated his good idea that those on the civil list should not work for reward. Ogilvy was sad about the fall of Mandelson, who I introduced him to and who had been very helpful to him on the scheme to help the young unemployed into business.

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Back for briefing on tomorrow’s PQ on ‘horses’ teeth’ – one of my great specialisms, of course! Then saw Jeff. He told me that Nick has formally forbidden him to hold the arranged ministerial meeting with Elliot and me tomorrow! Jeff has asked for that in writing. Are we allowed to travel together in a taxi?

Thursday 14 January 1999 Visited Princess Anne in Buckingham Palace to discuss the horse situation. Waited in small room with some odd paintings, one of a big white horse and another of the Victoria monument outside. Collected by a dapper short courtier who took me up in the ancient open cage lift, a vivid red painting of the 1897 Jubilee outside. As we walked the long corridor running the length of the Palace he said, sadly I thought, ‘There are not many living and sleeping here in the Palace any more. Not like it was a few years ago.’ Must feel a bit empty with the children all grown up and nobody there. HRH’s sitting room/office was comfortable and well lived-in, with lovely views down the Mall and across St James’s Park to Big Ben. I sat on a brown sofa opposite her in a deep armchair. There was a desk and a table covered in photos. On the wall was a big picture of a dog like a lion (or vice versa). She was dressed in a Scotch plaid dress, her hair piled high. Warm and down to earth. I liked her straight away. We discussed the whole horse issue. I told her what I was trying to do in uniting the industry and she was very supportive. Said it had been too fractured in the past and the separate parts hadn’t seen any reason to join together. Thinks things are changing and now is the time to unite. She was aware that MAFF had never shown any interest in the horse industry and asked about Packer. We also discussed her support for organics and I told her how MAFF had tried to scupper our plans to give it more support. At the end, I asked if she was interested in getting more involved. She looked interested. I said, ‘I read you are the hardest working of the Royal Family members.’ She smiled and replied, ‘But I can still do more selectively, if I like it.’ So we will see. A good meeting. She was impressive, nice, straight and professional. Would make a good Queen. It was the first sunny day in weeks, so I walked back across the park to the office. Jeff called in on arrival and we held our scheduled but ‘banned’ meeting. Shortly after, Peter Grimley came in, grinning, and said, ‘The Minister’s office has been on the phone and you now have permission to

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hold your meeting.’ Jeff, with a wicked smile, said, ‘Tell him to fuck off. We are holding our meeting and you have just interrupted it to tell us that.’ We discussed our impending resignations and possible dates. We also agreed the advantages of doing it together – making a point about MAFF, but not referring to it in our resignation letters. It would make clear the reason. Also agree how effective and systematic is Nick’s strategy of excluding us. He has taken complete control and we are effectively redundant, as is any junior minister who doesn’t have his minister’s support. We wonder – is it • The instinctive approach of a certain kind of personality who has ­suppressed so much and keeps all to himself – as Nick was at the whips’ office? • A cool strategy of monopolising power? Or • Packer’s advice to him on coming into office, as the way to concentrate all power and shut out the old Cunningham regime? Interesting questions. Went to the front bench. Margaret Jay filled us in on what happened in Cabinet and the Lords reform situation. Also discussed declaration of interests, where the Lords situation is unclear and needs clarifying. Afterwards to our 2.00 pm meeting with the whole Lords party. Tony Blair came to address it. Usual style, relaxed, amusing, self-deprecating. He thanked us for our work. Said we must face crises ‘not with complacency but certainly with calm. The new coalition is rooted in the centre ground, which helps us to be more radical.’ ‘It is our ambition to have two successive terms of office.’ ‘The media is a danger, a danger of going down the US path where you lose sight of the important purpose of government. There is a greater addiction to trivial gossip and scandal in our media than ever in my lifetime.’ ‘The only way to deal with a bad and negative media such as ours is to be strong and stick to the policy agenda. The public does not support the media in its trivial obsessions.’ Not true we are indistinguishable from the Tories. ‘Much of our programme is very radical and would never have been introduced by the Tories.’ On the Lib Dems said he wants them ‘to feel they can vote Labour.’ Back to the chamber. Had the first question from Lawson Soulsby on horses’ teeth. Actually important relating to the role of vets and para vets. Went well, with lots of Tory participation. Denis Carter said that our side was silent on the horses’ teeth, ‘Because most of them don’t have any horses and few of them have many teeth.’ Off to the office to clear papers. And came home to Fox’s Walk in time for supper and Fawlty Towers, which always reminds me of MAFF and that it can be treated amusingly.

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Daily Telegraph phones to say the Tory whips are going to launch a c­ampaign against me, and the Telegraph will write something. It doesn’t cheer me up to be hounded. Most politicians suffer it at one time or another.

Friday 15 January 1999 The Times phones to say that, as part of the organized Tory press campaign, it is going to do a profile of me. I arrange to meet a John Ashworth on Monday and show him my PCC response with the factual documents. He may dump me, but the only way is to be open.

Sunday 17 January 1999 Glorious sunny day and we drove 70 miles for lunch with Geoffrey and Elspeth Howe near Stratford-upon-Avon. Lovely old rambling house in a pretty hamlet on a hill with great views. Made us a bit envious, and on the way back have our frequent conversation about making a move to the real country. Crowd drinking in the conservatory included Donald Sinden, the actor, telling great stories – and complaining that none of the Shakespeare actors can today speak properly or project their voices, ruined by TV and the present fashion for an ‘estuary’ style of speech. Michael Quinlan, my old permanent secretary friend from the MOD, said he is finishing soon running the Ditchley Park conference centre. He said that, ‘MAFF was always depressing.’ Comforting. Also there were Richard Ryder and Carolyn, very warm. He left politics sensibly early because he wanted to enjoy life – I should have learned from him. He said Major made a great mistake when he highlighted ‘morality’: ‘There are always five adulterers around the Cabinet table with 24 members, and so there should be if you are going to have people representing real life.’ He said the worst thing that can happen to a politician is to be a minister at MAFF. He said they kept information from ministers. Tout ca change. The Ryders are enjoying being away from it all. Also talked to Elspeth. She is leaving the Broadcasting Standards Council soon. She was vitriolic about journalists and their low factual and moral standards, which she says have now infected the BBC and ITV. What angers her is that they simply don’t care. ‘Destroy people without a thought, just for the sake of a headline.’ Thinks they are ‘a threat to democracy’. Believes that ultimately they will have to be controlled – ‘like the old trade union barons’ – but it will take some time. I said a long time, because the politicians are intimidated by the media.

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Didn’t get back till nearly five. Watched England cricketers again beat Australia, after big scores from Hick (at last) and Hussein again. Then series of phone calls. Long talk to Alastair Campbell. Said the PM does not consider a brief job connection to Maxwell to be important at all. He is more interested in the situation in MAFF and thought Nick ‘weird’. Told him that I have been privately legally assured that the DTI Maxwell report will not be concerned with me and doesn’t suggest I had any connection with any wrongdoing or knowing of any. Peter Riddell of The Times phoned to say he had read my PCC submission and it should be ‘decisive’. He was very helpful. Said the Tory attack on me is based on a silly and vague Redwood press release that names me but doesn’t allege anything. Nice man and a very good journalist. Interested in facts and analysis.

Monday 18 January 1999 Andrew Higgins phoned to say that Princess Anne was ‘very pleased’ with our meeting. ‘She thought what you are doing for the horse industry is great and badly needed doing.’ John Ashcroft from The Times came in to do their piece on my brief job association with Maxwell. Seemed serious and bright. I sat him at my office desk and gave him my PCC submission, with all its supporting factual documents. He read for an hour while I went off to deal with hundreds of letters waiting since before Xmas. When I returned, Ashcroft stood up and firmly stated, ‘I am going back to the paper to say, “There is no story”. ’ As with Dominic Lawson and Peter Riddell, it shows there are still some serious journalists interested in the facts. Saw Brenda Dean, who has just left as a member of the PCC. She said ‘It is a useless body controlled by the newspaper proprietors.’

Tuesday 19 January 1999 Terrific meeting at 9.30 am with the horse people. They have support from their constituent bodies. Excellent Michael Clayton will be the first chairman. We plan a launch in early March. Off to the DTI for a working lunch on promoting exports. I informed them that MAFF had nearly 10 per cent of all UK exports. Criticised the proposed new exports Board, which will leave running it split between DTI, FCO and MAFF and nobody really in charge. Usual fudge. Needs one boss, domestic based, in touch with the exporters – that is, them, the DTI.

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Back to Lords. Meet Ralf Dahrendorf in the corridor and we have a long chat about Europe. He does not support the present German Union agenda. He thinks Blair should finally decide to ‘leave the EU’. That shocked me. But no answer when I said ‘Where to?’ Went to the Commons dining room to launch an excellent NFU campaign to serve British food in the Houses of Commons and Lords. My MAFF briefing and draft speech were all about how I must not praise British food so much because that would upset Brussels. I ignored that. Dropped in on Jeff, who said he doesn’t want Nick’s job and will leave Parliament in a couple of years. Cleared hundreds more letters off my Lords desk and a red box. Then to very enjoyable supper with Sarah and Graham Greene at Greens, off Jermyn Street. They had been to a marvellous Monet exhibition at the Royal Academy. Graham continues to be critical of his experience as chairman of the British Museum with the department of Culture.

Wednesday 20 January 1999 Went to the political meeting. Jeff, Elliot and I all complained about the recent great conference on the future of agriculture, from which we junior ministers were totally excluded. I mentioned how officials stopped us supporting British food and asked Nick to intervene. But nothing will happen since he won’t want to confront Packer. Drove in the torrential rain to the Cabinet Office to see Jack Cunningham for coffee. Terrific to see him and have an open political talk. He has been very upset by all the lies and rubbish about his alleged overspending when minister at MAFF. He knows the briefing comes from MAFF itself. Jack said Packer personally approved all the expenditure and went on all the flights and to the restaurants. Jack told me he still has a letter from Jonathan Powell saying the PM will create a new Ministry of Rural Affairs, but it awaits other restructurings. That is encouraging. We discussed my future resignation, which he knows I have been ­considering ever since he left MAFF last year. He helped draft a letter to Blair, setting my office at his disposal. Best of all was when he said he would like me to come in and work with him as an adviser at the Cabinet Office once I have resigned from MAFF. I said it would be unpaid. Just for the ­pleasure and interest of working with him again – and the satisfaction of being back near the centre of government. As we left the room together, Jack to the Parliamentary Labour Party meeting, he said, looking at a photo of his daughters, ‘That is what matters, not this job or the rubbish in the

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media.’ I said, ‘and the dog’. He said he would love to have a dog again. Told him that my New Labour policy was to have more Jack Russells and fewer journalists. Back to MAFF to meet Geoffrey John from Food from Britain who had very encouraging progress to report. He had followed up all my points from our last meeting. We agree to have a public launch. Moments like this, when we actually make progress and achieve something, almost make me want to stay in office – but not quite. Off to the Commons to see Jeff in his room deep below ground. He has put down more PQs (via someone else), protecting Jack from MAFF attacks. Back to the Lords for Margaret Jay’s statement on the coming White Paper on the future of the Lords: to a packed House – just got a place at the end of the plush bench in front of the Lord Chancellor. Margaret looked very elegant and sounded authoritative and measured, with no triumphalism or vindictiveness, just the case for modernising reform. She also announced the appointment of John Wakeham as chairman of the Royal Commission – to a silent House. Afterwards, everyone at first said it seemed an ‘awful’ appointment, but then they saw the sensible ­politics of it. Richard Ryder was standing beside the throne as I left and said, ‘It is a shrewd Tory appointment. And all our side will know Wakeham has ­promised the Commission conclusion in advance.’ One clever Tory chief whip on another shrewd one. Saw Charlie Falconer on the way out. Everyone likes him. He was worried about the stuff on Jack’s expenses. Furious it comes from MAFF. I tell him it is all exaggerated. Charlie said, ‘This cannot be allowed to go on.’ Working dinner with Dominic Cadbury plus two executives at the Cadbury Berkeley Square base. Discussing MAFF, Dominic said, ‘The present regime has been there a long time and should be changed.’

Thursday 21 January 1999 Cleared a lot of papers with Della. Maggie drove me to the office in a reserve vehicle. My Vauxhall is in the garage again. It is an aged trashcan and Maggie said she would never drive it privately ‘because it is a death trap’. It is now leaking exhaust fumes inside, which could harm Maggie. Went straight to Jeff ’s new weekly junior ministers’ ‘progress meeting’, which Nick tried to ban last week. In fact was a good serious talk on a lot of the issues facing us. Worried about the delay on quarantine.

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These junior ministerial meetings cheer me up. Jeff and Elliot are solid friends and good fun to be with. Although we have no team spirit with Nick or his officials, our junior team spirit is superb. Walked in the hazy sunshine over to the Lords and had quick lunch. Then front-bench meeting, excellent now, with Margaret giving full reports from Cabinet and leading good discussions. On Lords Reform, I suggest we must be more gracious and less triumphal with the departing hereditaries, pay more tribute to their past contributions. They are resigned to going anyway. Graciousness is correct in itself and will also make them less likely to fight in last ditches. I realise I shall miss a lot of friends when they go. As for racing, the Bloodstock Committee will fold without them. Denis Carter told me that Frank Longford spoke to him about our plans to make our four Labour hereditaries into life peers so that they could stay on. Frank, aged 93, said, ‘For myself, I would feel it would be, socially, rather a step down.’ Saw the headmaster of the school in my old village of Roade. Wants to create cricket and rugby pitches. Will try to help him. I remember the school being built in the field beyond our council house back-garden fence. Rather resented it then because it blocked our lovely view towards Stoke Bruerne. A nice man, Will Adams, and we had a good chat about education. Returned to the Lords for tea with my old Berlin friend Gabby Knodgen, who I knew when at the Berlin Wissenschaftszentrum in the ’80s. Had a good chat, especially about German policy on agriculture, where they want big cuts in expenditure but oppose every proposal for specific reform. Tells me the German people are quite unaware of their massive subsidies to agriculture.

Friday 22 January 1999 Joe phoned and recalled that, after Maxwell died, solicitor Lord Arnold Goodman advised the family to hold a great memorial service and promised that he could fix it at St Paul’s Cathedral, providing they invited Archbishop Coggan. Maxwell would have appreciated that. No doubt all the people, especially the Tory politicians who issued such great tributes on his death, would have turned up.

Saturday 23 January 1999 Took Honey for a long walk and called in as usual on our wonderful butcher. He is the last remaining heart of Shurlock Row as a living village.

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The only place where people gather to chat now that the Plough pub has closed. John looks after everybody, and at 60 has run 49 marathons for charity. I am joining with some villagers to try to get him an honour for his great community work. A test for Blair’s ‘people’s honours’. But may fail. John is not a celebrity. Started the Frances Partridge diary. Mixed feelings. Like her description of visits abroad, to Leningrad, Wexford and to country houses. Also a reminder of the terrible strikes in the ’70s, from which Mrs Thatcher saved us, with Partridge in bed all day when the electricians were on strike. But am bored with endless quarrels with Julia Strachey and the other tail-end Bloomsberries. Have read enough of them and they take themselves more seriously than the rest of us do. The dreary background of illness and deaths also reminds me of what lies ahead. But it is beautifully written and makes my diary, by comparison, sound like an office memo. Interrupted by horror. Honey had gone out into the dark fields, where there are many fox traps and badger holes to tempt terriers, and did not return after two hours. She did not respond to our calls and my familiar whistle as we searched the soaking ground, fields and gardens. Sarah was in tears and me nearly. Realised she is part of the private pleasure I look forward to when leaving office. So we agreed we would have to cancel tomorrow’s lunch party if she has gone – the guests will understand, all being country dog lovers. It would be a terrible blow for Sarah and me. What I love is Honey’s unquestioning loyalty, her affection, her funniness and wickedness. Anyway, just as we were sitting in the kitchen, desolate, with Sarah phoning the gamekeeper to search his lethal traps, that familiar long muddy nose and those shining brown eyes appeared, looking guilty, at the glass back door. I grabbed her in and cuddled her, not worrying about the mud on my shirt. We didn’t let her out again.

Sunday 24 January 1999 Had eight to lunch, just local neighbours and all county Tory. The Godsals in good form; bright Sarah Palmer and Dick; sparkling Francis Dashwood; and our dear friend Rosie Muir. A decent bunch, even if I don’t always agree with their political opinions. In the afternoon I read more Partridge diary beside a rare log fire I lit in the usually unused sitting room. Looks pretty and we should sit there more often. Refined my Blair resignation letter. It now says:

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22 January 1999 The Prime Minister 10 Downing Street London SW 1. I am writing to say that I wish to put my ministerial position at your disposal at your next reshuffle and that I do not seek another. It has been an honour for me to serve in your New Labour Government. I particularly enjoyed working with Jack Cunningham, whose brilliant team leadership began the process of moving MAFF towards a wider role in our broad rural society. It is important that that aspect of our modernisation does not now lose momentum. Needless to say, my decision has nothing to do with the baseless media speculation about the DTI Report on Maxwell. I know that it will not suggest that I did or knew anything wrong. Like others maligned in relation to it, I would welcome its early publication. From the election in May 1997, as my family, my close friends and Jack Cunningham know, I always had in mind to leave office within some two years. I wish, after a suitable rest to recharge batteries, to pursue my particular interests in sport and the arts. It will be a painful political break for me. I was first active for the party in the Campaign for Democratic Socialism assisting Hugh Gaitskell to modernise Labour and resist the old ideological left nearly 40 years ago. In the last Labour governments, Harold Wilson and James Callaghan employed me excitingly to set up and run the Number Ten Policy Unit (which I am delighted to see still flourishes under you). Neil Kinnock and John Smith included me in their Lords front bench teams. However, it has been an especially satisfying political conclusion to serve as a minister in your administration and I am grateful to you for giving me that opportunity. After leaving office, I shall of course loyally support your government inside and outside Parliament. Best wishes for the second term.

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Monday 25 January 1999 Finally sent the Blair resignation letter to No. 10, via Maggie. Now sit and wait till he does a reshuffle. After lunch, drove up to London and straight into a Nick meeting on quarantine with the Fretwells and Passports for Pets, with the RSPCA there and some others. Nick handled it well with a straight bat. They were understandably worried about the proposed delay in bringing in the reform, which would allow dogs (including Honey) to travel abroad with a passport. I share that concern and will work to speed things up. Had a briefing on tomorrow’s Question on squirrels, and then dashed to the debate on the current police inquiries into race fixing. Saw jockey Jamie Osborne afterwards in the lobby. He had schooled Guilder this week and thought him ‘good’. Not sure if he will ride him at Cheltenham on Saturday.

Tuesday 26 January 1999 Open good conference on speciality foods at the Cumberland Hotel. Pouring with rain but good turnout and I genuinely spoke out with encouragement. They are a good lot. Worked on the PQ briefing and then lunch at the Howard Hotel – Herbert Morrison’s old haunt – with David Montgomery. He had just this morning been harshly sacked as chief executive from the Mirror. Signed his termination just before coming. I was touched he fitted me in. He was angry, saying the business is now going well and says his new chairman, Victor Blank, behaved ‘treacherously’. He now has to look at other media situations. I must arrange lunch with him on my ministerial farewell day. Dashed back for my PQ on the use of warfarin poison to control the current plague of grey squirrels. Jack Dormand was not there for his first question, so mine, following, went on for a near-record 15 minutes. But I was able to relax and have fun with it and the House laughed supportively. I felt well after that, as always do after questions. I shall miss that when I go. Off to the grand ministerial conference room near Jeff ’s office in the Commons. Meeting of the full Economic Affairs Committee of the Cabinet, the most senior Cabinet committee I have ever attended. The full brigade were there. Gordon Brown in the chair. John Prescott growling opposite. Stephen Byers, looking sharp and ambitious, Blunkett intervened well. Margaret Beckett and Donald Dewar at the fringe corners. Officials from the Treasury presented options on how we reorganise the map for areas to receive regional aids and structural funds from the

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EU. The Chancellor tried to bounce it through quickly. But Prescott firmly resisted that. Blunkett argued persuasively for more sophisticated criteria to qualify for aid, and won that. Nice to see what was effectively the full Cabinet, just without Blair and Cook, in operation. However, I still feel that the Chancellor of the Exchequer should not chair this Economic Affairs Committee – which is really intended to hold the Chancellor to account for his conduct of our economic policy. It won’t do that with him actually chairing it. The Prime Minister should chair it – as Wilson and Callaghan always did, holding Denis Healey to account. I did write to Blair on this back in the summer of 1997, but he never replied to my letter. Off in black tie to the Whitbread literary award dinner at their lovely old brewery near the Barbican. Glittering crowd and actually more impressive than the Booker Prize show – more people, more sumptuous. The great poet, Ted Hughes, rightly won the prize with his poems of personal expiation on Sylvia Plath, his first wife who committed suicide, for which he was cruelly (and in my view wrongly) blamed by the sisterhood. After supper, Sarah and I rambled around. Chatted with Chris Smith. Also with Andrew Turnbull, a toughie Mandarin from the Treasury, who said we must be more robust in rejecting this ministerial expenses rubbish in the press, simply saying it is within the rules, so get stuffed (or change the rules). Like him. Home at 11.30 pm.

Wednesday 27 January 1999 Into the Nick meeting. A little late so missed Nick’s opening complaint about ‘Leaking and briefing against the department’. Good discussion on badgers, where lots of problems. Terrible situation in the Brussels Parliament, where the UK Tories, German CDs, Spaniards and all the Mediterranean welfare recipients are combining against Agenda  2000 and CAP reform. They are supporting even more money for farmers, without reform. Launch of the Food Standards Agency bill in the Commons. Nick and Frank Dobson did a good double act. Nick cleverly showed no trace of having once totally opposed publishing the bill. Jeff and I stood at the back of a hot and stuffy room, with no air-conditioning working. Press  understandably concerned at the extra charge of £1.89 a week on each food shop or restaurant. My chef son, Paul, tells me some restaurants cheat the Inland Revenue and taxpayer of more than that every hour. Back to the Lords and saw Margaret Jay. She said the Cabinet had decided to go full steam ahead on Lords reform and risk whether it will provoke

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problems with the rest of our legislative programme. I mentioned my letter to Blair. ‘You have really done it formally, then?’ she asked (I felt, not really approving). All day I swing between pleasure that I have done it and can get out, and regret that I know I will miss the dispatch box and meetings with MJ and of course just being on the inside. If Jack were still at MAFF I suspect I might not be going. People come up to congratulate me on my answer to the hilarious squirrels question. Shirley Williams in the library said she was roaring with laughter. Colin Cowdrey wrote to say, ‘You are the Master of Squirrels.’ But, of course, it was all entertainment, not serious. I said to MJ, ‘The Lords at its best’ – knowing that that frivolity is one of the reasons she wants to reform it.

Thursday 28 January 1999 The leaking about Jack’s expenses has suddenly stopped. We believe this is because we have arranged for a PQ to be put down asking about the involvement of the Permanent Secretary and the Chief Information Officer. Now they will try to close it down. Lunch at the Lords with Alf Dubs. He hopes the Northern Ireland talks will end successfully in April. But they are not going well. Decommissioning is insoluble. I told him of David Montgomery’s good contribution on Northern Ireland and suggested they use him now he is more free. Into the Lords front-bench meeting, where Margaret Jay reported from Cabinet on their depression at no progress in Ireland – that the Iraq, Yemen and Kosovo situations are all miserable – and fear Iraq reprisals on us. But cheered because the Lords reform bill will go to the Commons on Monday, which is an historic occasion for us. We had a whip on, but little prospect of a vote, and I was missing Sarah and Honey. So I skipped away during PQs and was down here in the country by 4.00 pm. Today’s news from MAFF concerned Elliot Morley. He has a ministerial computer in his MAFF office, all plugged into the departmental system. Yesterday, he needed to see Nick, didn’t know when he would be in, so he tried to access his diary. Up on the screen came, ‘E Morley; access denied’. The shut out of junior ministers is moving into the high-technology stratosphere. And talked to Angus Lapsley, the PM’s principal private secretary, in the evening. Stressed I didn’t mean to put any time pressure on for my departure, and would soldier on while it suited the PM. He said that Blair has just signed a letter to me in that vein. So it is done, but don’t know when I leave. Would prefer another three months or so.

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Friday 29 January 1999 To Chevening in Kent for the great Lords ministers ‘away day’. At least ­tolerable dry weather. Then in the car read the bad news that there was a vote in the Lords yesterday evening after I left, and we lost by 11. This is the first vote in six weeks and the first time I have ducked out of a whip – itself only a two-liner – in two years. So apologised humbly to Denis Carter later. Chevening, now the foreign secretary’s residence, is a grand red brick house set in lovely grounds, rising hills one side, and a fine lake the other. But could hear the inevitable M25 buzz from a couple of miles away. Rural noise is an environmental pollution and hard to escape anywhere in the South. Need more investment in the quiet road surfaces that Brits have invented and exported to the French for their great autoroutes, but our hopeless Transport Ministry has refused to use them. We gathered for coffee in the lovely drawing room running the width of the house and so it is bright, having windows at both ends. The walls were covered in fine portraits, mainly of the Stanhope/Pitt family from way back. There was a Peter Lely of the fanciable Countess of Chesterfield, all autumn russets and rich browns. Less charming was a sharp Gainsborough of Chesterfield looking miserable, so I don’t imagine he was the one luckily married to the delectable Countess. Another small Gainsborough of William Pitt and several wonderful Allan Ramsays, one of Lady Hester Stanhope. Most impressive of all was the remarkable, wide and delicate wooden staircase up two floors from the hall. Made of light Spanish oak, doesn’t look as if it can carry many people, but very beautiful. Up its walls were ranks of 17 Irish carbines, swords and bayonets, all interwoven – given by a Lord Londonderry. At the top were a trio of great portraits, of George the First and more Stanhopes. Very grand. I went up and rambled on the upper floors looking for a loo. Found a huge bedroom with a canopied bed, more Ramsays on the walls, and nice old-fashioned bathroom off it. Sat looking over a kind of Japanese garden of miniature shrubs and felt that our foreign secretary, Cookie, has a nice weekend pad. The others all said they could see why Mrs Cook was so angry when he dumped her, having waited all those years for the trappings of office and then losing them to the young mistress. We met in the library, quite attractive, long, lined with fine vellum-bound books, but rather narrow and ceilings not as high as I like. Only one painting, modern of a recent Stanhope, and a bit dreary. On the way there, I passed an impressive billiard room with a big wooden scoring clock. And outside over the fireplace were photos of many foreign secretary occupants – all Tory except for Robin Cook. Will be interesting to see if he stays up or is taken down when he is moved on.

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Twenty-two ministers and whips there, with special advisers sitting at the side. For the first half of the morning we discussed the coming legislative programme. It sounded a bit hard-nosed to me: controls of asylum seekers (now a shambles), ending right to jury trial, welfare reforms that hit the disabled and widows (where Patricia Hollis expects 15 defeats and she is planning concessions). When I said the Labour Party won’t like all this, they pointed out there are lots of plus points in the programme as well, we had just discussed the tough areas first. I pushed for help for war widows and Patricia sent me a note saying, ‘I will see if I can get some movement in the Commons; they are a good cause.’ On Lords reform, we decided to press ahead and will have the second reading before Easter. Charlie Falconer gently questioned this, saying the opposition might lose steam if we waited, but most were for haste. I said the key words were ‘momentum and determination’. Then the opposition, already divided, will crack. On the homosexual age of consent, I revealed my intention to vote in favour of our reform bill, now it has the Ashton amendment protecting boys in care institutions from the kind of paedophiles sometimes employed there. It will be a free vote on that part. After we resumed, a fascinating discussion was opened by Helene Hayman on how to be a minister. Liz Symons spoke colourfully on some of her experiences of the Foreign Office horrors. I and many others joined in. Had different experiences and some had good secretaries of state, but all agreed it wasn’t working as well as it should – because ministers do not know how to MANAGE a department, never having done anything but be an individual politician. Our businessmen, David Simon and David Sainsbury, gave excellent brief statements on what is meant by good management – and it became clear it is thin on the ground in Whitehall. Above all we need a shared common purpose, common information and inclusive team management. I did not reveal the horrors of our experiences at MAFF, but hinted at it and suggested that the PM should run another Templeton College exercise with his Cabinet, now they have had two years of experience in government, and try to nudge them into a few basic good practices. Margaret Jay warmly supported that. Don’t want to eliminate the individual styles of the politicians, but these must be variations around common good practices. Or else disasters will occur. We all looked to Charlie Falconer to get this message through. That shows how shrewd it was of Blair to put Charlie and Jack Cunningham in the Cabinet Office. We now have ministers at the centre committed to improving the machine and not just bogged down in departments.

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It was a terrific discussion, well managed by MJ. I so enjoyed it that I decided I didn’t want to resign after all and told MJ so. She said, ‘I was very disappointed when you told me.’ Too late now, but still have a few weeks. Lunch in the brown wood-panelled dining room, divided at two long tables, with long views to the lake. I sat with Liz and opposite a Scottish law minister, very charming, whose name always escapes me. Then back into the library to discuss Lords procedure. Had never seriously focused on this issue and rather accepted the amateur way we do things. But Larry Whitty and Doug Hoyle presented papers arguing how a more professional House needed much more professional procedures and I was convinced. Need radical reform there. Like the idea of PQs only on specified days. Also discussed the need for better Lords facilities. Ex-Commons people say how shocked they were to find so few places for people to sit and wait late for votes. So people get fed up and go home – like last night (though I kept quiet on that). Home in an hour-and-a-quarter, digging into a huge box, signing hundreds of answers of letters for Nick. I suspect he doesn’t do much of that, so next time will delay on it.

Saturday 30 January 1999 Drove fast to Cheltenham. Raining when I got there but not heavy. Met my lively sons, Paul and Stephen, at the parade ring as planned. Went to see Guilder and met up with the others in our racing syndicate. Guilder was in the first race and stayed on well to come fifth, passing several up the stiff hill. Watched another four races and left early for another zoom home.

Monday 1 February 1999 Months slipping by fast. Up to London in case there is a vote. Cannot afford another miss after last Thursday. Met Tessa Blackstone on the way in. She cannot understand why I stay on in MAFF. Said, ‘I would get out of there like a flash.’ Margaret Jay came into my room and took Tessa and me down to the Commons to hear the opening second reading debate on Lords reform. Margaret Beckett was good, clear and tough. Liam Fox, replying for the Tories, was all over the

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place. Finally admitted he was for getting rid of the hereditaries but had no plan to replace them. Complained both that we were acting too swiftly and that we were delaying the final scheme too long. Cannot see much problem dealing with the Tories here. They have absolutely no coherent policy on it. Back to office to find a message saying phone Jonathan Powell at No. 10 ‘urgently’. Felt nervous they might have decided better if I go straight away, since don’t want that. In fact very reassuring. Said, ‘We don’t know when our summer reshuffle will be. We are certainly not proposing to drop you at short notice and very happy you are continuing.’ Very friendly. I say I am happy to do the FSA bill in the summer if they wish. Nice to feel support in that quarter. Dropped into meeting of Dorset NFU in the Commons. Two Tory MPs already addressing them and assuring them the Tories would provide ever more subsidy. Then to the North-East farmers, hosted by Tory leader Hague. They treat him as their prime minister, even though he has little chance of holding office within a decade. Farmers simply cannot accept a Labour government. My old French friend, Jacques Pomonti, came for supper in the Barry Room, sporting, discreetly, his legion d’honneur from Mitterand. Have known him for nearly 30 years and we are always comfortable together. He is a close old friend of the present French PM, Jospin. But now cannot get to see him since the bureaucracy shuts out all personal contacts. Says Jospin is cleverer than the Brits realise, but has chosen to allow the elite civil servant ‘enarchs’ to run him, since that way he makes fewer mistakes. On the EU, says he doesn’t understand the British scepticism, because ‘You have more influence than anybody else in Brussels.’ But he does accept that we are quite different from the continentals. Says our most important proximity with the USA is our common information technology and thinks that was a deliberate Anglo-Saxon postwar strategy. I would like to think we had enough political clarity to have had such a good information technology strategy. The good things, like many of the bad, have mainly happened through luck and the chance of events.

Tuesday 2 February 1999 Blair’s letter arrived accepting my future resignation. Very warm and nice handwritten piece at the end thanking me for all I had done for them and sorry I am going. Lunch with Observer journalists Andrew Rawnsley and Patrick Wintour. Only my second lunch with newspaper journalists in nearly two years.

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They were civilised and we had a serious discussion on the wider political scene. I let them know my views on modern journalism, to which they pleaded not guilty for themselves, while openly admitting they knew who the journo horrors are. I tried to avoid specifics on MAFF and declined to criticise Nick. Back to MAFF for a meeting with dairy people, helping our milk-in-schools campaign. Then a curious meeting with Packer. He ­ arranged it, and said, almost nostalgically, it was ‘something I used to do’. But he had no agenda items. I told him straight that I could not do my job because ‘I do not know what is going on in the department.’ He cautiously replied, ‘I understand what you are saying.’ He praised Nick’s ‘listening’ campaign. I agreed, saying it was right for Jack Cunningham initially to shake things up – and then for Nick to mollify them when we have no more money. Told him it was stupid that MAFF did not consult me on refusing the promotion of my able private secretary, Peter Grimley. And said that he and MAFF should treat the horse industry more seriously, as the second-biggest rural industry. Then he rambled and spent much of the time ­discussing how his son would get on at the LSE. Odd. Perhaps he feels vulnerable, with the BSE Inquiry. Or, with the bad press and embarrassing PQs, he has been advised to mend some fences. I am happy to do that. Wish he had done it sooner. I would always rather work with someone than against. He is able and experienced. Just too negative and hostile to ministers. Dinner at St James’s Palace to celebrate Robert Fellowes’ retirement as the Queen’s private secretary. It was a wonderful occasion and there were some 50 guests. We had drinks beforehand downstairs in a pleasant drawing room, cosy and not too grand. We walked across the courtyard to dinner, sitting with Jacob and Serena Rothschild, Serena as witty and lively as ever. She had written to Peter Mandelson, who she greatly admires, saying his resignation had ‘Ruined her Xmas!’ Upstairs to a magnificent set of two linked state rooms, Sarah and me dining in the far one at five tables. I had two delightful companions. One side was Lady Peat, wife of the Keeper of the Privy Purse (i.e., the Queen’s finance director). He is bringing the royal finances up to date, but she said he has to be careful in persuading them to accept change. On the other side was impressive Mary Francis, who works dealing with the media for Robert Fellowes, very bright and lively, and we had a good chat. She is a civil servant by trade and first worked in Whitehall in the boring old Civil Service Department when I was in No. 10. With relief, she was absorbed into the Treasury when it took the Civil Service Department over. She was funny

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about old Christopher Soames as minister, when he was trying to grapple with the civil service pay structure and asked them to relate it to how he paid his gardener. Also chatted with John Riddell, who was with me at Oxford. He said he had always been jealous of my friendship with the lovely Maureen Cleave at Oxford, who I visited at her home in Sligo in 1955. Sarah sat with Henry Carnavon, who she felt was in one of his less happy moods. Henry has problems with his hearing and finds these big gatherings noisy. Others at my table included Jacob Rothschild; Conrad Black, who grows ever more like a Randolph Hearst-style newspaper proprietor every day; and lovely Jill Butler, enjoying her Oxford students. Tom Camoys, our host, paid a brief tribute to Robert, who then made an impressive, short and typically modest speech. He referred to the Queen’s down-to-earthiness and her capacity ‘to puncture my tendency to pompous self-importance’. The fact he said it proved it isn’t true. He cited the time when, discussing with her a possible candidate for future private secretary, it was suggested that, ‘The personal chemistry might not be right.’ HM said, ‘What is all this nonsense about chemistry? After all, it is only a job.’ After dinner, we lingered in the drawing room. Talked with John Major about MAFF. He said it is a ‘terrible’ department with a ‘bad culture’. But he would not abolish it because the farming community would react badly. On the press, he said, ‘Don’t get me started on that – some of the worst of them are here.’ He said we now had a witch hunt and scapegoat society. And ‘The media are the witch hunters.’ He said the only thing to do was for Blair to go to the Tories, sit down, and agree how to tame them. ‘Without that nothing will happen. But Blair won’t do that. And, now the Tories are enjoying Blair’s suffering, they probably won’t do it either.’ He didn’t say why he didn’t do it while he was PM. But Labour probably wouldn’t have agreed. Clear speaking to him that he is a most decent man. We should make more use of him. He left to vote on Lords reform. Major also criticised Blair for joining in the witch hunt against Hoddle as England football team manager and calling for his resignation over some silly remarks he made on reincarnation. I agree. Not for prime ministers. He feels Blair is trying to be too populist, too influenced by his spin doctors. He certainly shouldn’t trivialise the office of PM. Long chats with the Carnavons. Henry recalled when we first met at the Sports Council 34 years ago. Had a quick word with Robin Butler on why he didn’t emerge as chairman of the Lords Reform Commission. He said, ‘I need that like a hole in the head.’

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Wednesday 3 February 1999 Morning visit by train to Lewes for a lunch discussion on farming in East Sussex. They are facing agriculture change much more imaginatively than MAFF. Already only one-fifth of their farmers are full time. They have a magnificent environmental project for handling the High Weald. I really enjoyed it, and again felt that if it was all like that I could stay on a long time.

Thursday 4 February 1999 Front bench as good as ever. MJ reported on the difficulties over the Scottish elections. Donald Dewar had been a bit pessimistic at Cabinet – which Blair pointed out, for Donald, was as close to euphoria as he ever came. Afterwards, met Tory friend Mark Marlesford, complaining that we are extending the ban on beef on the bone. I understand their position, but point out that no minister could go against the strength of the Chief Medical Officer’s injunction. No Tory minister had, and we had even changed the CMO to get a new voice, but the new man played the same cautionary tune. Maybe these officials will never agree to lift the ban because there will always be a risk. Chatted with Tristan Garel-Jones, who I don’t know, but friends like. He fully supported the Cranborne compromise approach to Lords reform and described Hague as a ‘weak leader’. Said Cranbourne finally broke with Hague when the latter’s men asked him to leak the fact of his secret talks with Blair, as a way of killing them. Cranbourne is, presumably like many able Cecils, capable of some necessary deviousness beneath an aura and objective of public righteousness. But he rightly drew the line at that. Back to MAFF for an excellent meeting organised with Jeff on the EU Agenda 2000 reform. Andy Lebrecht presented to us, concise as ever. Seems surprisingly optimistic that we will achieve some radical CAP reform. Germans now committed and French coming round. I was surprised but pleased. Made me nostalgic for our Presidency last spring. Listened to some lovely Mozart and Schubert and then early to bed.

Saturday 6 February 1999 Watched racing from Sandown and Uttoxeter with a lot of good jumping, which is my favourite.

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Quiet evening. Read some more Lees-Milne, which I am slowly getting into. It is all about his visits to country houses where the family members are trying to give the house away to the National Trust in the war. The family are usually over 70, which is when they bequeath houses. Almost none I have heard of. Just one reference to my Oxford friend, Veronica (Plowden) Gascoigne. But interesting to see upper-class England not suffering too much in the middle of the war. They still ate well and did not seem very aware of the food rationing, which in my working-class home tightly limited what we ate. The bus system was very impressive and L-M can get almost anywhere, even in the remotest countryside, by bus. The other impressive thing, which I also read in Waugh and Betjeman etc., is that living in central London was then much simpler and more convenient than now, even with the bombs. They turned it into a village. Lived in Mayfair or Belgravia, walked across the park, dined in St James or Piccadilly, slept and relaxed in their clubs around the corner. Didn’t need transport. Just walked from one to the other. I am very envious of that. The kind of village I would like: bumping into authors like Virginia Woolf or the Nicholsons in the street for a chat. We citizens are now spread wide and alienated across the metropolis. No phone calls today except one. Typically, Frank Longford phoned to say he was sorry I am having a tough time with the press. He understands that. Has suffered it often. Says he would hate our nasty journalists if his loving Christian principles would allow him to. I will miss him when he goes – he is 94 and an amusing miracle.

Sunday 7 February 1999 Freezing bright day. Went to later mass at Twyford, which is a bigger, handsome church. Was packed, with people standing at the back. We ‘left-footers’ seem to flourish here. To bed with Lees-Milne. Liking more as I get into it. A serious diarist because he goes into detail each day, with lots of descriptions and sharp comments on all the people he meets (which I lack, not having the time or talent). Gives a splendid picture of those geriatric upper classes, all hoping the National Trust will bail them out of their house overheads while letting them still live in their castles and mansions. Also a colourful portrait of his spectrum of London society, cultured, very social, going to dine with friends every evening at the Ritz, Savoy or Cafe Royale (which don’t need ration books), or leaving work early enough to have them round to tea in

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Cheyne Walk. Most of them don’t work anyway. Describes well the role of the Cunard lady and other hostesses at the centre of their social webs – no comparison exists today that I am aware of. And how well-known people simply just drop in for tea, including the Mitfords, Stephen Spender etc. But many of them are single, sexually ambivalent or only vaguely married, so they have lots of time on their own and free to visit others. Finally, that the war did not seem to have a great impact on him and his social friends. Sure, lots of bomb sites and far fewer servants. But those not in the armed services seem to continue a full social life. I like the way he is amused by those of his more camp friends now in battle dress, who he simply cannot take seriously as warriors. Quite wicked about Chips Channon – often in ‘dress but not ­battledress’ – and hates Evelyn Waugh as the wrong kind of Catholic, being a convert  – Lees-Milne seeing Catholicism as a form of exclusive social ­snobbery (wouldn’t encompass me!). Very good on travel – the horror of jammed wartime trains, which I remember then. Also interesting is how disloyal, even contemptuous, his right-wing social set were to Churchill. Their frequent, vague sympathy for some aspects of fascism is often only just below the surface. Can see from this why Churchill needed Labour support in his war coalition. This lot were not too keen on the sacrifices involved – nor indeed on most of the political objectives of the war.

Monday 8 February 1999 Worked on heavy briefing for ‘Wednesday’s PQ and grilling by the Commons Select Committee on Agenda 2000, where we are making some progress, especially with the ‘degressivity’ of future compensation subsidies. Saw Wigoder, the distinguished law lord, who came up to say ‘You are winning this one. It is clearly just a malicious campaign by the worst parts of the press.’

Tuesday 9 February 1999 Set off for Phillips jewellery sale seeking a Valentine present for Sarah, but she phoned to say nothing there she liked. So off to a magnificent food exhibition at Earls Court. Really like these, since our speciality food producers are very good and beginning to market well. Had a sandwich in the Bishops Bar with Ann Mallalieu, where I give what support I can on the country sports side. Ex-law lord Desmond Ackner came over to commiserate with me on the press, saying, ‘It is just a shabby

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tabloid witch hunt.’ Encouraging that the top lawyers seem to be in agreement on this one. Sat on the steps of the throne for PQs and chatted to Lucius Falkland. Lots of hereditary peers are trying to join in the current Lords p ­ roceedings, either to take their last chances or to make an impact so they can be included in the 91 peers scheduled to be saved after abolition. Lucius and I agree it would be a good idea to establish a definition of a ‘working ­hereditary’, like him. Then try to put them forward as life peers to return after the reform. Went at 4.00 pm for the Minecor Cabinet Committee on establishing our positive line on the EU. In the handsome India Office Council Chamber at the Foreign Office. A huge central chandelier and tall portraits of Warren Hastings and Cornwallis. Big attendance – Joyce Quin in chair, Tess Jowell, Andrew Smith, Geoff Hoon next to me, Kate Hoey, John Reid and Angela Eagle. We agree ‘the core script’ – evidence of the ‘on message’ style of uniform presentation now boringly expected from all New Labour ministers. But biggest concern is over coming devolution. Then the Scots and Welsh will be able to go to Brussels and argue their separate national cases, and make separate representation to Member States, thus destroying the coherence of an integrated UK case. Especially if there is a Scottish devolved admin that is different politics from us. Perhaps the Scot Nats one day. I offered to produce a MAFF paper which was accepted. Walked back with John Reid, deeply worried that we have introduced broad devolution without thinking out the consequences. Back at the Lords chatted with MJ. The Tories are threatening to break all conventions by voting tonight against the second reading of the health bill. We filled the chamber with our troops and they backed off. Lovely supper at Campagnola with old Hampstead friends, the Reads. Discussed my wild idea for all of us to retire together to apartments in one large country house (someone else tending the grounds) with other old and like-minded friends, so we could meet, or stay private, as we wished. Thus creating our own friendly retirement village.

Wednesday 10 February 1999 Straight to Channel 4 for their political awards lunch. The whole of the Westminster political and media establishment was there. Among  the winners were Ted Heath, friendly Chris Mullin, Tony Benn and Mo Mowlam twice.

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My PQ went on for nine minutes but was fine. They appreciate it that I answer without referring to my briefing file, but that needs a lot of homework: one day I am bound to put my foot in it. Afterwards, top Tories Freddie Howe and Jean Trumpington came up to discuss the press and stressed, ‘None of it is coming from us in the Lords.’ They said that Redwood and the Tory whips are behind some of it in the Commons – at the ­instigation of the Mail. It will pass. Heavy grilling on CAP reform before the Commons Scrutiny Committee. Tory MP Anthony Steen behaved as usual like a clown, constantly raising points of order about the Committee officials having warned MAFF of the questions in advance. Of course they had, though I wasn’t informed of this. They always do alert departments. But it was overall a good dialogue, and several members came up afterwards to say that. I presume that the Steen pantomime performance was attempting to create a story for the Tory press. Dinner at the Ritz with Henry and Jeannie Carnarvon. Nostalgic for them since his family once owned it and he, when young, had a permanent room there – ‘couldn’t afford that now’. First time Sarah and I had been there together and she loved it. Delicious food and elegant surroundings. The Carnarvons had earlier been to a big farewell reception for Robert Fellowes at Buck Palace. Henry and I discussed Lords reform. He is very involved, persuading all parties on the key Officers Committee, which will draft the crucial amendment, to agree to keep the 91 hereditaries. He thinks the interim stage, after most of the hereditaries leave, will be possibly the best outcome, which he would support permanently. He wants ‘a dignified exit’ for the hereditaries, not last-ditch warfare.

Thursday 11 February 1999 Attended our weekly ‘progress meeting’ of junior ministers. Long agenda, big developments on genetically modified crops (GMOs). As ministers, we have to get ourselves in a balanced position, which means protecting the public health if there are any real dangers (as yet unproven, despite the scare campaigns), but without blocking genuine scientific progress in crop production. Chuckles on our side when it was reported that Pat Hollis, who must get exhausted from her heavy workload, had become a bit upset when her driver didn’t arrive on time. Apparently, when leaving, she tossed her red box towards him and it accidentally caught him in the goolies. It is probably embellished but all enjoy the story. Patricia took it well. Not so sure about the driver.

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Friday 12 February 1999 Outrage continues to run in the media about the prospects of genetically modified food production – a classic case of where many want to believe the extreme versions, pro or con, and we ministers get silenced and ignored trying to put a more measured view.

Saturday 13 February 1999 At last a gorgeous winter day, cold and brilliant sunshine, lovely clear air. Drove to Waltham St Lawrence church, parked and walked with Honey over the fields to Shottesbrooke Hall. The house is a jewel, on three floors, fine big windows, dark red brick, beautiful proportions. Can see right through the drawing rooms running the width of the house, just what I would like. Looked at the tiny church and then curved back around the other side of the house to return the way we went. Honey loved it. Took an hour-and-a-half so helps me get fitter and conquer the diabetes – already feel much healthier than last year. Phoned David Montgomery and discussed Ireland, which is not going well. The Republicans are refusing to decommission any arms and the Orange people are digging in their heels over the Drumcree marches. It needs some fresh ideas and momentum. Blair likes Trimble personally, but was critical of him to David for being too narrow and not building on his peace success by drawing wider public support. Trimble is a loner, sectarian and brave, but has not yet grown into being a cross-sectarian statesman. David has told Trimble he ‘must talk more to Sinn Fein, especially to McGuiness’, since they are partners in the new agreement and ­administration. Trimble is first minister but hasn’t talked to McGuiness or Adams since before Xmas. Sinn Fein might drift away, which would be disastrous for us.

Sunday 14 February 1999 Valentine’s Day. Grey and cold. Fortunately, I had brought some lovely flowers, including black roses, and Sarah was content. I also found her a pretty Victorian card.

Monday 15 February 1999 Panic when the Private Secretary came on saying there is to be a PQ on GM today. Then it became a full government statement. I conceded I had to

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go to London quickly and was preparing for that when fresh messages said all was off. The Speaker had contacted the PM, who said he didn’t want it. So relief here. Jack Cunningham phoned, also under constant press attack, this time over GMOs. It was Mandelson and Robinson before Xmas. Now it is Jack, David Sainsbury and, sometimes, me. He said the PM is being very firm and will not give the sharks any blood in the water. MAFF official Theresa told me that Jeff Rooker has sent a memo to Brown and Packer, saying they must intervene on the leaks against Jack, and at least deplore it. She later reports that Packer has replied saying it is ‘too late’ to do anything. Especially since the Department may have been behind them!

Tuesday 16 February 1999 We have a statement on GMOs in the Commons and the Lords after 3.30 pm. My cold was thick but I felt it went OK. As Sarah pointed out later, I always enjoy the ‘ups’ (mainly at the Lords dispatch box) and hate the ‘downs’. David Montgomery and Sophie came in to supper. He looked years younger now he is out of his battles at the Mirror. Blair had David to dinner at Chequers on Saturday to express support for him after his recent travails at the Mirror. At the dinner there was Richard Branson, who Sophie was doubtful about, and actress Emma Thompson, who was funny. I said I would rather Blair didn’t entertain so many luvvies. There are people in the country helping society more for whom such a dinner would bring total pleasure. It was a very good dinner. In the peers’ dining room, which is much more cheerful when packed full like tonight.

Wednesday 17 February 1999 Quite a nice but cold day. GMOs still running wild in the press and nobody is taking any notice of the facts we have given them. In for briefing on Thursday’s PQ on hedgerows. Given by a tiny and very delicate lady. The subject matter is very obscure to me. Then to Margaret Jay’s Lords Reform Committee in the Cabinet Office. Upstairs on the third floor, overlooking the gardens of No. 10 and Horseguards Parade. Long discussion on next week’s two-day debate on the Lords Reform White Paper. Ninety-five Tories have put their names down.

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We decide to boycott it, since we have been over this ground endlessly and will anyway shortly have the second reading of the actual bill. By doing it, the Tories delay our important health bill and we shall publicise that. But all small games. I said I didn’t think it would have much effect on the public anyway. The differences in our temperaments showed. Margaret Jay is always for pushing firmly straight ahead, impatient of any opposition view, with an elegant touch of authoritarianism, good and much appreciated by all of us Labour peers in a leader. Denis Carter and I are more emollient, wanting not to incense the hereditaries. Also more inclusive – and ‘wet’ – by nature. MJ is tolerant but nicely dismissive of that. She likes to get things done. Dashed to Regents Park, looking lovely in the sunshine, but strange to me since I almost never get north of Oxford Street these days. The traffic always awful, with, as always in Britain, endless roads dug up and seemingly never finished. There to launch our new cheese promotion poster at the Dairy Federation. Nice atmosphere and feel satisfaction that this is an area where something is being achieved. Back late for lunch with my dear old Japanese friend, Yamataka. At the ‘In and Out’ Club – Naval and Military – which has moved from Piccadilly to 4 St James’s Square. This old Astor town house has a splendid dining room in what I presume was their family sitting or dining room, with five large windows looking over the square facing west so the sun streams in. Presume it was bombed in the war, but all the ornate stuff is still there. Lots of below-average portraits of naval men, including the inevitable bad Nelson. Annual fee only around £400, which is very reasonable these days. It is two years since I saw Yamasan. Dapper and nervily polite as always. His bad news is that he lost a fortune when the yen rocketed last autumn. He ran his own hedge fund with a special system – but the system did not anticipate the yen rising. He said he had learnt a lot. Yamasan was philosophical as usual, honestly saying it was ‘greed’ that led him astray. He cited the fable of the dog with a bone in its mouth crossing a bridge. It looked in the water and saw, reflected, a dog there with a big bone. Wanting that as well, it opened its mouth and barked. The bone fell in the river and it then had none. He may soon return to Japan as he cannot bear to be separated from his family. Maggie picked me up and drove me to Fox’s Walk. News still full of GM scaremongering and it seems we now will have a three-year moratorium on commercial growing of genetically modified foods, with

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Michael Meacher from Environment taking every opportunity to please the loony Greens. I suppose I am in the middle of this storm, but it doesn’t feel like that since I am not involved in the decision-making, just in defending whatever might be our position at any time. I don’t know who is deciding, since I have seen no evidence of Nick’s involvement. I suspect he is keeping his head down, leaving we junior ministers to take the public flak.

Thursday 18 February 1999 Media still full of the feeding frenzy on genetically modified foods. Getting even further removed from facts and reality and further into scaremongering each day. In a tabloid circulation war, the first casualty is truth. People are beginning to notice that Nick Brown is nowhere to be found while this GM issue explodes. Jeff has done all the media PR and he and I have done all the Parliamentary work. Nick hasn’t been seen or put in an appearance anywhere. He has not called a single meeting of ministers to establish a MAFF department line on GMs. Jeff, whose office is ten yards away, has not heard from him, though constantly required to pronounce. The view of all is that Nick shrewdly saw this as a difficult issue that could get out of hand and go wrong. So he went to ground and let Jeff and me take the flak. In fact, Jeff has done superbly well on it and I hear that the No. 10 team is very pleased with him. Maggie picked me up from Fox’s Walk and drove me to Guildford. Went to a South-East regional meeting to consult on our big new ‘Future of Farming’ exercise, which was launched on January 11 without the rest of us ministers. A good meeting and a nice lot, but no time to hear them all. Had to rush back in the train – which was inevitably delayed – to do the front-bench meeting and answer my two PQs. Dashed straight to MAFF to see Jeff to ask about our latest MAFF position on GMs, since the press is claiming we have done a U-turn. In fact no change. Just we have restated our last October position: that there will be no commercial development of GM crops this year while trials take place, then will decide whether to go ahead or, more likely, delay further. Jeff still hasn’t seen Nick to discuss it, but trying to do so this afternoon. I had a quick PQs briefing in the Royal Gallery. Very rushed and no time to grasp the detail.

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Never been so ill prepared, but in fact both PQs went well. The GM question was last and the Tories cleverly let the previous three questions go quickly so I was left with 12 minutes for GMs – not a happy thought. So I opened gently by saying, ‘This makes me nostalgic for squirrels’ – referring to my 15-minute ordeal last year on the tree rats. I deliberately spoke very slowly in my responses, consuming a lot of time, so they came in with only seven supplementaries, though that was more than enough for me. Afterwards had tea with Margaret Jay, who was worried that Blair has just made Patricia Hollis a Privy Councillor. This could upset the other Lords ladies – especially Tessa Blackstone and Helene Hayman – who are more senior and have longer claims. Denis Carter said to me that, ‘Our ladies are never very mutually supporting.’ Margaret has phoned Tessa in South Africa to explain and prepare her for the news. The reality is that getting a PC for a junior minister depends on the Cabinet Minister ­pressing hard for his or her junior minister – no chance of Nick Brown doing that for Jeff or me! Patricia’s secretary of state, Alistair Darling, is  very supportive of his juniors and depends on Patricia’s detailed ­knowledge of this complex policy area. So he fought for her, aware she was annoyed not to get promotion last time. Margaret told me the story of how Tessa Jowell had pressed for Malcolm Wicks to be in the government and Jonathan Powell replied, ‘But he is.’ After discussion, it emerged that he didn’t know who Malcolm was and had confused him with someone else in the government. MJ said that there is not an excess of Labour Party knowledge around Blair. ‘Only Alastair Campbell could recognise half the PLP.’ We also, for the first time, discussed her father at length. Her attitude to him is of course supportive, though also always objective. She is terrific company for me. Margaret is the one who I most admire on our side. She thinks Jim is out of touch now. Is nostalgic for the old Labour Party of the decent working class, which now scarcely exists any longer, and he has little idea of how people have become more upwardly mobile with materialist tastes. She has always been uncomfortable with some of the Welsh ‘Taffia’ who attached to Jim. I tried to give my interpretation. That anyone like Jim (and me to some extent), who grew up desperately poor, always has a particular view of money and is grateful to those who have helped us financially along the way. And the Welsh Labour situation was so widely corrupt that, as a Cardiff MP, he had only two choices. Either to get out altogether, which would have destroyed his political base, or to go on regardless, learning to ignore the surrounding sleaze.

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She kindly said she wished I wasn’t leaving the government – and that I may be silly in doing so, since I won’t gain much private life. Because ‘Dear old Denis Carter will have you here on the whip anyway, so you might as well be a minister, with some of the power as well as the pain.’ A shrewd lady. Lively dinner at the Mosers in Regents Park Terrace. Claus looked ­worryingly fragile after his quadruple heart bypass, though he was as lively as ever, and very bullish about the new Covent Garden Opera, which he thinks will be a great success. Very keen on the new American managing director, who has been round to meet all of the workforce, which his ­predecessors rarely did. Also there was David Gordon, who I knew at the Economist, when I failed to get his support for my plans to modernise the Economist Intelligence Unit. Clever and subtle man, but perhaps not one for the jungle. And Ralf Dahrendorf and wife, Ellen, long memories going back over 30 years ago as friends together at the LSE. Get on well with Ralph, who is always fascinating on Europe. Richard Layard brought me up to date on the LSE, where it seems over half the undergraduates and nearly all the graduates and many staff are now foreign. So there are seminars taught by foreign graduates in English, a language neither the teachers nor the taught have fully mastered. It doesn’t sound as collegiate as in my day. Almost the whole lot were LSE products of one kind or another. But from an earlier LSE generation that may never be repeated, with the modern ­cosmopolitan School now focused more on raising money than on teaching students.

Friday 19 February 1999 GMOs still running in the tabloids, where operate the only genetically modified Frankenstein monsters which already exist.

Sunday 21 February 1999 Phoned Tory peer Lawson Soulsby, who is very unhappy with Hague and the philistine scaremongering way the Tories have exploited the GMO issue. He is a scientist and says most of the scientists and businessmen he knows are appalled with the opportunism of the Tories, which gains them nothing politically. Says it is mainly John Redwood, who seems to be the first case of a genetically modified casualty. Am excited about the new horse industry body and think it is the most worthwhile thing I have done in office.

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Last week the Sunday Times had a piece by Prescott, their senior lobby correspondent, claiming that Jack Cunningham had sacked his private secretary for questioning his expenditure and that Jack had consumed six bottles of malt whisky a month. MAFF investigated and told Prescott that the secretary was moved by the Permanent Secretary for quite other reasons. Also they told him that Jack had actually consumed only six bottles during all the while he was a minister – 14 months. That was converted into six a month. Yet this week they attack Jack for ‘questioning the evidence’.

Tuesday 23 February 1999 Up early to London and into Phillips in New Bond Street to view jewellery for Sarah’s birthday. Cannot be at the auction because I have a PQ on bananas, so I leave a bid. Walk down Bond Street shop-gazing, something I do barely once a year. Don’t like shopping. The women’s fashions are ugly beyond belief, lots of mud browns and drab greys. Hope Sarah doesn’t wear one of these for her birthday dinner. Phoned Phillips about the ring. Had gone for just above my offer, which left me sad. Out with Sarah to a charity concert at St Johns Church, Smith Square, right outside my MAFF office. The church has been sparklingly renovated, but is no longer like a church at all – no spiritual atmosphere, just a super chamber concert hall. I nearly fell asleep and we were famished when we finally reached the crypt at 10.30 pm to get some spicy meatballs. I slipped away back to the Lords to give support to our closing speaker, Denis Carter, in the two-day debate on Lords reform. This was a total waste of time since we have debated it endlessly earlier – and anyway next month have the second reading of the bill. So our side boycotted the debate, offering only three eccentric speakers. The hereditary Tories let off a lot of steam and deeply angered Margaret Jay with their personal attacks on our side, especially on Robin Cook. She leaned over to me and said, ‘You are not going to stop me attacking the hereditaries. From now on, I am really going to let them have it.’ When the division came, we abstained, so they won by 200–2. This properly reduced it to a farce and devalued their victory. Denis Carter told them, ‘We can play silly games too.’ It didn’t end till nearly one. Only Liz Symons and I turned up from our non-involved ministers. I need some credit in the bank with the chief whip for missing that previous vote defeat.

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Wednesday 24 February 1999 Went for a haircut at last, since I had wings of trailing grey locks looking very scruffy. Walked with Honey through the park to MAFF and took her into my room for the key meeting with the horse industry people. That went well in the end, though it needed some changes to the constitution and the press release. I suggested reducing the membership to the three main bodies – the British Equine Federation, the BHB and the Breeders. Clear out the rest. They all accepted and now we have a clean simple solution. Unsatisfactory meeting with the Guild of Food Writers. They always turn meetings into a campaign for organics and against GMOs and don’t discuss food as cuisine. I got irritated and spoke beyond my brief. They reflect the paranoids and conspiracy theorists of the nation. Then two hours heavy briefing for tomorrow’s PQ on genetically modifieds. PQs are becoming a full-time job in themselves, since it always takes hours of briefing and homework. Finally realise how much I don’t know about GMOs. It was much better when I sailed blithely ahead grasping a few simple points. Now I have seen hundreds of pages of complex refinements, I am much less happy or confident.

Thursday 25 February 1999 In for Jeff ’s progress meeting. Again take Honey, who loves sniffing her way along the MAFF corridors and around Jeff ’s room and into his cupboards seeking mice. Discuss dog quarantine, where the department has spent longer considering the Kennedy Report than it took the committee to write it – and it is huge, with massive research on risk analysis. We draft a minute from all three of us to Nick saying he must take some action soon. I report that the quarantine issue is beginning to bubble again in the Lords, with a PQ scheduled. I like these meetings with Jeff and Elliot. We have formed a kind of subministry. We go through the policy agenda just as we used to do with Jack. I notice that civil servants are beginning to say to us junior ministers: ‘You might want to raise this at the progress meeting.’ And Packer has now asked for a meeting with each of us. That is encouraging. The machine is adjusting. Sat in my room afterwards studying my massive briefing files on GMs for the PQ. Quick lunch before the front bench. Very lively meeting, with Margaret Jay announcing with a wide smile that she ‘Would not be restrained by Bernard any longer’ from piling into the Tory hereditaries. I said that was OK, but it was right she had been restrained until any reasonable person would agree her patience was exhausted. Better to behave

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with dignity and by contrast show that ‘they are unfit for privilege’. I also reminded them of Joe Haines’s basic guiding political principle: ‘In defeat malice, in victory revenge.’ I still hope to restrain her a little. The hereditaries are finished so we might as well let them complain a bit – and not kick them too much when down. My PQ on GMs went surprisingly well. I now don’t even take the big folder to the dispatch box, in which colleagues have pages of standard answers flagged up for them to read out. I just do it on the hoof (after much prior study). Today was a battle between those led by Dick Taverne, who wished to defend scientists and GMOs from the philistine scaremongers, and those led by Dick Marsh, who said it wasn’t just the scaremongers, but there was genuine concern about GM safety. I said that we ministers understood this concern, but we still had to act on rational evidence and advice  – and there was no evidence, so far, of bad consequences from the long use of GMs. I managed to duck the issue of when we would start commercial planting. Afterwards, moved straight to the Royal Gallery for a briefing on next Monday’s monster PQ – Tom Stanley questioning our continuing the unpopular ban on beef on the bone. Even fatter briefing file and an even more dodgy subject. The Chief Scientific Officer has said on TV that there is no need for the ban. The new Chief Medical Officer has said in public that we must continue the ban even though the risk is now much diminished – while privately saying that had he been CMO at the beginning of this crisis, he wouldn’t have advised the ban in the first place. So a real buggers’ muddle. And of course it is Muggins the minister who has to stand up and make sense out of this mess. Am tempted to stand up and tell the truth about the muddle. Later, to the library to chat with Lucius Falkland about our plan to construct a definition of a ‘working hereditary’, from whom we might appoint future life peers. Cleared a huge red box full of rubbish. One intriguing paper explaining why we cannot save money in MAFF other than by cutting out the Wages Board, organics etc. – all the policies that we current ministers support. I had sent in a memo saying we could save a million from the seven million spent by officials last year on ‘freebie’ trips abroad. On this paper some official had written that they did not have time to include my suggestion to the Treasury. You bet. So I write on this one that I will take it direct to the Treasury. Await explosions. Officials are prepared to get rid of the underpaid agricultural workers’ Wages Board, to save less than £50,000, while they won’t touch millions of their own expenditure. Yes Minister, all over again.

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Friday 26 February 1999 Really dreary day, grey and no life. Terrible pictures from Austria of the avalanches and dozens killed. Villages I wanted to visit – Lech, Zurs, Galtur – cut off and devastated. Reminder that snow is frightening. Did this diary and then walked Honey around the village and to the butcher’s for chops and a bone for her. In the shop, a customer asked loudly for a rib of beef on the bone. Butcher John replied in his soft Irish brogue, ‘Now, Jim, you know I don’t serve beef on the bone when there are customers from the Ministry in the shop.’ Wonderful! I grinned and bent down to fix Honey’s collar, not having heard of course! Read half a red box in the evening after dinner – bad news of two PQs scheduled in Cheltenham week – will have to off-load them.

Saturday 27 February 1999 Veteran journalist, Harry Chapman Pincher, phoned to ask to do a profile of me in a new racing magazine. Agree, since he was so fair and factually accurate last time.

Sunday 28 February 1999 Read in the paper that my dear old friend and Lords colleague, Joe Dean, had just died of cancer. Feel sad that I didn’t realise it was near the end. Could have visited or at least written. A truly decent man, Lancashire working class. Went to mass. Father Flanagan told us again the story of the 9­ 0-year-old widow in remote Kerry, asked if she believed in Heaven, said yes and described it as, ‘Just like here, but without all the sex.’

Monday 1 March 1999 Spring supposed to be coming but really awful day – gale winds and driving rain. Did homework for today’s PQ on beef on the bone. Massive file of answers, all in Whitehall Speak, which I can never remember or wish to say. So, as usual, make a list of snippets summarising the various arguments and figures and will remember that in my own words. PQs have now become my real full-time job, with little to do in the department. So I go back to being a Lords spokesman rather than a minister. Up to London at midday, with Honey leaping into Maggie’s car and wanting to come with us. Those two have a nicely developing friendship.

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Maggie loves animals, she still looks after Hailsham’s terrier ten years after she gave up driving for him. Did my Tom Stanley PQ on beef on the bone. OK, but disrupted because today Prince Charles and minister Alan Michael, unknowingly, ate beef on the bone at a Welsh lunch. Clearly set up by the sillies. But it made me laugh – and made it even more difficult for me at the dispatch box defending the government’s position with a straight face. Saw Clive Hollick for an hour’s gossip. He is pleased with the Blair speech coming out for the Euro monetary system. Said Murdoch had repeatedly phoned Blair to warn him off, but Blair ignored him. Gordon Brown was also against the speech since he felt, perhaps shrewdly, that there is no need to stir it at this moment. Blair is more of a risk-taker than Gordon. Nobody in the Cabinet is speaking against joining the Euro. I am still not fully convinced, having been against joining the original system back in No. 10 in 1979. Gavin Davies from my Policy Unit convinced me it was not right for the UK. Clive asked about David Owen, who has just launched another anti-Euroland campaign, with Denis Healey and Jim Prior. I said David always thinks things out for himself – and is looking for a new political role. Clive thinks Hague will improve his poll position by 10 per cent by taking a clear anti position. I agreed, but said it would lock him into a minority corner. Like the Left. Sarah came in for supper with old friend Maggie Colnbrook. She seems much recovered after Humphrey’s death and was quite lively. But ironic that I seem to be one of the few in the Lords who, with Sarah, looks after her. The Tories have buried their dead and moved on. I still miss Humphrey from our village. After they left at ten, I was stuck there for another five hours as the Tories played voting games over the health bill. They kept calling votes and then not voting themselves. They were hoping we wouldn’t have a quorum of 30, when the House would be voted out and we would lose business. Fortunately, we always had 30 or 31, with a little Liberal help. But it was very tiring. Sat in the library between votes. Chatted with Charlie Falconer about the GMO situation and how Nick had gone into hiding. He saw how close we had been to a PR disaster. I suggested they do a post mortem on the handling of the GMO crisis to make sure we never have anything like that again. We also talk a lot about Labour history, where he is interested and informed but not educated, like most New Labour. I told him about our Campaign for Democratic Socialism supporting Gaitskell against the Left in the early 1960s, and how Jim won the leadership in 1976. I suggested Blair should

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sometimes praise the old Labour Right, which fought against the Left to preserve a Labour Party for him to lead. Without them, Blair would never have been PM – because the hard Left, had it won control, would have destroyed the Labour Party. Charlie told me that Blair ‘loves being PM’ and wouldn’t know what to do if he wasn’t. He said that, like me, he would never recommend anyone today to go into public life. I described to him how being a minister in the 1970s, and before, was much better than now, with less vicious media denigration of people in public life. He said that being a QC was ‘great fun’ and I again regretted never having thought of taking that legal career path. The Lords was quite eerie in the early hours of the morning, almost nobody around except a few drinkers in the Bishops Bar. But when the division bell rang, peers popped up out of corners and shadows to vote. Some of them in their 80s and 90s. Weird.

Tuesday 2 March 1999 Off to the Lords to take Peter Grimley for belated but pleasant farewell lunch. Reminded of his good qualities. His policy analysis way ahead of anybody else or the girls I have now. Should have been promoted, and outrageous that MAFF didn’t even consult me when refusing him promotion. He is enjoying being at MAFF’s Tolworth branch and leading a more specialised life dealing with animal health. Up to the Committee Room corridor for two hours grilling by environmentalists about our approach to organics and GMs. Afterwards, took Home Office minister George Howarth for a drink to put him in the picture on the new horse confederation. He told me a scary story of when he recently sued the Guardian. It had lyingly printed that he was drunk in Soho late at night. ‘I have often been drunk’, he said, ‘but never in Soho.’ The Guardian knows he is from Liverpool poor, with a young family, so they decided to frighten him off by expensively seeing the case to court. By the time he got to that stage, his legal costs were more than his entire assets in life and he would have been bankrupted if he had lost. That was the Guardian hope, and it would no doubt have given all those journos great pleasure to do that to a decent Labour minister. George could not sleep at night, was ill and lost weight. In court, it emerged that their witness was funny old Fritz Spiegl. He appeared, with his pebble glasses, and could barely see his way to the witness box, and certainly couldn’t see or identify George. There was no way he could have identified George at night in Soho, drunk or sober. The case

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collapsed. George was paid £15,000 and his costs. But the Guardian lawyers must have known their case depended on the identification by a nearly blind man. They depended on frightening George off because he is poor. But were beaten by his decent bravery. John Sewel, our Scottish minister, was in Brussels for Agenda 2000 last week, which is bogged down without agreement on any reform. Complained Nick never discussed the UK approach with anybody, and then, when it all went wrong, he seemed to collapse and fell back into Packer’s arms. ‘Packer then told him what to say.’

Wednesday 3 March 1999 Off early to the best ministerial meeting we have ever had. Although he came back from Brussels broken, Nick seemed to have recovered and was in good form, handling the meeting very well. If only he had done this from early on, we might still have had a team instead of being divided in two. Said he was depressed by Brussels: ‘It makes you think of pulling out of the EU.’ Much discussion of genetically modifieds. Jeff reported at length on the situation and the ambiguities within it. Liz Lloyd said that No. 10 felt that the GM briefing, both from MAFF and DETR, was ‘inadequate and often misleading’. I reported on my Horse initiative due to be launched later that morning and Nick said warmly, ‘You know I am supportive, but we just don’t have any money.’ Liz Lloyd kindly said she would invite the new Horse Board into No. 10, which will give them a good lift off. (Interestingly, Packer has suddenly found £130,000 to help publicise the fantasy Millennium Bug problem.) Nick told us that MAFF vets (and lawyers) are holding up the quarantine solution. He said, ‘I always suspected that. The moment I finish this Agenda 2000 business I will take that up.’ On the need to reform vet training, I suggested that Nick meet Blunkett from Education and sort it out, having modules of training and so producing some cheaper para vets for simple tasks. He seemed supportive. Walked across St James’s Park, cold and breezy, to the horse industry launch at the Institute of Directors. Michael Clayton did a good opening presentation. Tristram Ricketts backed him up, both kindly praising my contribution, and I spoke welcoming the new Confederation. A few friendly questions. Son Stephen was there, told me he is getting promotion and will now earn more than I do, at 29 and after 18 months in the job! But he is clever and always enjoyable company so I am delighted for him. Chatted with Andrew Parker Bowles, who reported progress on our planned

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war animals memorial, and invited us to Sandown next Saturday when Guilder runs. At 6.00 pm met with Jeff, Elliot and MAFF officials on GMOs. Very helpful. The chief official much less complacent than before and answered our questions constructively. Feel it has been a very satisfactory day, especially the Horse. But doesn’t alter my resolution to get out. Must recover my private life. At least, as Sarah urges, ‘Have a little more fun in life.’

Thursday 4 March 1999 Into MAFF for another boring meeting on the anticipated Millennium Bug. I am the minister for this in MAFF and attend the miscellaneous Cabinet committee meetings. So I know a lot about what the other departments are doing in preparation for we know not what, come the millennium holocaust. But not much about any MAFF preparations, since they have never arranged a departmental meeting with me nor sent me any papers. Today’s meeting took place only because the Cabinet Office sent across its ‘Bug Supremo’, a Dr Anderson, to check out where MAFF is at. Beforehand, our top department official, suddenly in a panic, asked for an urgent meeting with me. She said it was important for me to tell the Cabinet Office that all was OK in MAFF – ‘that you are in charge and are fully up to speed on all that is happening in MAFF’. I laughed and said I would do nothing of the sort, since I didn’t know what was going on in MAFF, if anything, and had not been kept informed. She looked very agitated as the Dr and his assistant arrived. Jeff was also present. After a few minutes, I said to the Dr Supremo that I couldn’t help him much since I had never had a meeting in MAFF and had not been informed of anything till yesterday evening when the overnight thick file arrived. Dr Anderson looked appalled and the MAFF officials’ body language was agonised. I said, however, it was useful having him here as it gave me the opportunity as the relevant minister to ask the officials what was the MAFF machinery to supervise the Bug programme? MAFF man said, for the record, ‘very active machinery’, overseen by the top MAFF Management Committee, reported to by the Information Committee. I said fine, perhaps I might in future get the minutes of these committees. MAFF man said, doubtfully, ‘Maybe.’ But he added that the Management Committee was the main committee concerned with the admin of MAFF, implying it might be too important for a minister like me. I said, well, since I am also, in theory, the minister for the admin of MAFF, perhaps I should be getting the minutes anyway! More agonised body language.

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This is straight Yes Minister material. The Dr said that in Health and Education the ministers are all involved with the Bug committees all the time – I knew this, since Tessa Blackstone tells me that, in Education, ministers attend a monthly meeting on the Bug. But this is MAFF. I saw the Dr making notes. Perhaps this nonsense will filter through to the Cabinet Secretary, because I, as minister, will, of course, be held responsible if this goes wrong – though I hope to be away from it all before the hypothetical Millennium Bug is due to explode. Had a quick sandwich with Tessa Blackstone, fixing to make a joint attack on the ludicrous situation of vets training – seven years at great taxpayer expense and then they all go off to earn fortunes in the private sector. What we need are lots of para vets, with three years training, so they can monitor abattoirs and inoculate or pull out horses’ teeth. Don’t need seven years for that. Because there are no English vets for those simple low-paid tasks, we end up with hundreds of Greeks and Portuguese, sometimes with substandard qualifications we have to accept under the EU rules and they don’t know what they are doing. Tessa said there is the same situation in medicine, where our medical unions insist on unnecessary long and expensive courses to maintain their high-paid monopoly.

Friday 5 March 1999 Bleak grey day, icy cold wind. This is the time of the year to be on the Nile or in Thailand. Saddened that Derek Johnson, my Olympic medal athlete friend from Lincoln College, has died – nearly half of my 1953 undergraduate year have gone now. If I don’t get out of the MAFF grind I will soon follow them.

Saturday 6 March 1999 Sunday Telegraph chasing me on the nonsense that I had been alerted about the questions asked at the recent Agriculture Select Committee. I had nothing to do with it. Anyway, the select committees want information from ministers, not to trip ministers up like in a schoolboy exam. Still, they want their headline: ‘Minister cannot answer questions without cheating crib.’

Sunday 7 March 1999 Rained all day. The Sunday Telegraph had a nasty piece. Saying I am ‘a cheat’ because the Agricultural Select Committee officials gave my

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MAFF officials advance warning of the policy areas the committee was interested in. However, I had no knowledge of this, and it is apparently standard practice because it helps the select committees to focus the discussion on their main interests. The Tory party chairman Ancram, who is normally a decent gentleman, and who knows that the Tory ministers operated the same sensible system, uncharacteristically for him accused me of ‘deceit’. One enjoyment today was wrapping up Sarah’s birthday present – a set of necklace, bracelet, ring and earrings. Bought in Dubai long ago and kept locked – hidden for this great 60th in my shotgun box.

Monday 8 March 1999 More rubbish in the Mail, with an editorial demanding I be sacked for my officials being tipped off about Select Committee questions. So I faxed a brief to No. 10 pointing out that I had no idea the officials were meeting. No. 10 replied that they are very aware of this sensible official practice and take no notice of this nonsense. Phoned Peter Riddell on the Times, who said it was ‘all nonsense’ and explained it was ‘because they are out to get Lord D. They are not interested in the truth. They want a resignation, to get ministerial blood. You are the one currently in the firing line. That will pass and they will move on to someone else’. He said, ‘Everyone really knows that all committees do it and this is a non-story.’ Seem to be a lot of non-stories about. Peter helps me to ignore this one. Into Lords for a few votes. Many people came up to reassure me on the Select Committee nonsense. Joel Barnett said in ten years as a chairman of the Public Accounts Committee, he always gave the questions out beforehand to witnesses, to assist their discussions. Geoff Tordoff, chairman of Lords Standing Committee, said he always did it and firmly wished to continue doing so as it made the Committee work better. Philip Allen, permanent secretary at the Home Office, said it had always happened to them for 30 years. Richard Davies, Lords Senior Clerk, said, ‘It would be a disaster for the committee system if advance questions were banned.’ This is the reality. What is in the press about ‘cheating’ and on ‘narks’ in the system, is malfiction. Quick supper in Jenny Lo and in bed by ten. Long chat to Sarah. Excited and nervous about her tomorrow’s great birthday celebration. She doesn’t know about my present for her. Have pretended that I have failed to find one. I love secrets.

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Tuesday 9 March 1999 A fine sunny cold day. Cheered by Sarah’s birthday and wonderful flow of flowers to the house. I bought some locally and delivered them with a card from Honey. Walked to tasty lunch with Paul in a little Japanese restaurant downstairs in the market off Victoria Street. Then to the Lords. No great votes today. Chat with Simon Haskell about helping the John Smith Institute, founded in memory of John, and used as a research and office base by Gordon Brown. Simon says he is enormously relieved to be out of the government. Like me, he has a fruitful private life and plenty of hobbies. Took another red box home at tea time and watched the end of Gordon Brown’s imaginative budget. Just a cluster of small changes really – and £2 billion of giveaway is nothing in a £400 million budget – but brilliantly presented. Off to the birthday dinner in Mark’s Club just off Berkeley Square. We went early to set out the placement cards and the little presents Sarah gave to everyone – silk hankies to the men and pretty party bags made by Sasha for the ladies. Thirty-four guests and it was a lovely atmosphere, since everyone knew one another and it buzzed from the beginning. We had champagne beforehand in the upstairs sitting room. I chatted with the Aga Khan (‘K’) about his racehorses and prospects for the classics. He also invited Sarah and me to go racing with him in France and visit his Normandy studs. I would love that. Also chatted with Michael Heseltine. He said he is really enjoying being in business – ‘It is great to be in a private company and away from the dreadful media.’ Also to the Channons, back from world travel, and to lovely Zahra Khan. Anne Heseltine agreed to come with me again racing at Towcester, once I arrange it. It was also brother Charles’ birthday and he looked cheerful as ever. I sat with K’s new wife Gabriele. She was bright and charming to talk to. She clearly makes K very happy and does the ‘social partner’ bit well for him. On my other side was my favourite Jeannie Carnarvon, with Henry opposite, in cracking wicked form, teasing Jeannie about the Labour peeresses he pretends he fancies. Not bad for 75, hope I am still so sparky then. The Demetri Marchessini placement problem had been solved by putting him at the end of my bench. There he was surrounded by two strong ladies, Ingrid Channon and Patricia Rawlings, who worked cleverly and courageously to entertain him, and so he was kept from launching a verbal attack on Michael Heseltine, or whoever has currently excited his political wrath.

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Could see Graham Greene, Max and Jane Rayne, Colin, Susan and our lovely Gstaad friends having a great time around the room. Sarah insisted on no speeches, but I rose at the end and said a few words, mainly how nice it was for us all to be there, everyone loving her. Then son George rose and was really touching in the words he said about his adoring mother. Not easy for him since he is so shy, but he did it magnificently. Jeannie and Sarah were weeping gently throughout. Afterwards, a few of us – Charles and his girlfriend Heather, Zahra Khan and husband Mark, and Sasha and George and his girlfriend, adjourned to Annabel’s. A wonderful evening, and again reminded me of the things that really matter in life – loved ones, family and friends.

Wednesday 10 March 1999 Took Honey to the office, walking through the park on the way. She sat on my shoulder during an official meeting on the Millennium Bug launch. Then walked back to the Gran Paradiso for lunch with Henry Carnarvon and Margaret Jay. Henry reported on his efforts to keep the cross-benchers in line on Lords reform. He thinks the majority will still go for the compromise amendment, keeping 91 hereditaries. MJ told him there was a mood swing among Labour people to ignore the compromise and plough ahead for the Full Monty of abolition, using the Parliament Act. I think she was winding Henry up a bit, but it is true that our side was offended by the arrogant speeches of some hereditaries in the White Paper debate. Horror of the day was seeing the Cabinet Office briefing for the Prime Minister’s Commons PQ tomorrow on my Select Committee nonsense. Nothing about it being long common practice in Whitehall or initiated from officials to officials without the minister knowing. Simply said, ‘Lord Donoughue has admitted that he had the questions in advance’ (I haven’t said a word) and left it as if I was guilty. Shielding officials and loading it all onto ministers. Expect that from mediocre MAFF, but depressing that the Cabinet Office is sometimes just as bad. ‘Ministerial responsibility’ means ‘officials lying to escape their responsibility’. Not that there was anything wrong with what the officials did, anyway. In fact it didn’t come up at the PM’s PQs, which was wholly on the budget, where Hague is trying to show that Gordon Brown’s clearly popular budget ought to be unpopular. But it did come up afterwards as a point of order by the clown Steen. He claimed that I had been guilty of ‘a cover up’

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and had accused him of ‘impertinence’ in raising it (the transcript shows I did no such thing). Sadly, nobody stood up from our side to point out the facts. Am told they don’t take him seriously enough to want to engage with him. Teatime briefing on next Monday’s question on the meat industry from Countess Mar. Budget coverage very favourable. Red diesel tax goes up 6 per cent. Shows Gordon Brown does listen.

Thursday 11 March 1999 Woke to find the CAP ministers had reached agreement in Brussels. Usual cobbled hotchpotch. Some modest progress and could have been worse. Into the junior ministers meeting and I raised the issue of the Select Committees pre-briefing. They were each pre-briefed before their recent appearances. Said it always happens and officials insist it is for the benefit of the Select Committees. Briefing on quarantine and officials convince me they are doing what they can to progress it – now rests with ministers to solve the charging issue. But there will be no decision before Monday’s PQ, so I will have to stonewall. Had tea with Melvyn Bragg, who is still enjoying the Lords. A bit hostile to the current BBC. He is very impressive talking about the arts.

Friday 12 March 1999 Read a huge red box, with massive briefing for Monday’s two PQs and statement. Dreadful. Everything dumped in like into a dustbin, hundreds of pages and papers and memos and letters. I am left to go through the lot and sort out the significance. None of the old civil service distillation into the main points, with summaries and advice. Took me five hours just to go through it. No chance for me to summarise. Exhausted after.

Saturday 13 March 1999 Glorious morning, mild, sunshine, daffodils and primroses bursting out, birds rioting. Was just getting a little more optimistic when was phoned with the news that Guilder had pulled a muscle and won’t run at Sandown today. Terrible. We were all geared up, fixed to have lunch with the Queen Mother, Guilder a good chance at 16–1. To Sandown feeling rather down without Guilder, but as always cheered up when I get to a racecourse, the course green in strong sunshine. To the

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Royal Box and chatted with a lot of racing friends, all very friendly. Michael Oswald said ‘We want you at the top of racing.’ Talked to Tristram Ricketts of the Horseracing Board about our racing plans. And to Chris Collins and Andrew Wates about our great lunch with Robin Butler 24 years ago, which started my involvement in the politics of racing. Went into lunch with Rose Parker Bowles and sat between her and the Queen Mum. Latter now 98 and sharp as a pin. Also anciently pretty with twinkling eyes. Discussed her horses due to run next week at Cheltenham, where she knew which kind of ground they like. She is not so keen on the flat: ‘This jumping is the real sport – the rest, the flat, football etc., are just big business.’ She went outside to watch the races. Rose told me that yesterday she went to the paddock three times, then in the evening went to a big party and stood up talking for two hours. They were built robustly in her day. And she has a chest cold. Here is me 34 years younger, and sometimes feel pathetic! Dropped in on the great team of Guilder owners, who had rented a chalet but now had no horse to watch. David Lipsey, David Metcalf, Will Wyatt and everyone there, all good friends for life. I treasure them.

Sunday 14 March 1999 Nothing in papers except some nonsense about poor Labour MP, Joe Ashton, being caught in a massage parlour, which is perfectly legal. They make it clear that they are highlighting him because he has always bravely supported a Privacy Law. Crude intimidation.

Monday 15 March 1999 Took my huge briefing to London to be ready for all afternoon at the ­despatch box. Very resentful I am not off to Cheltenham for the great Festival week. On route, was informed that I should have gone to a Margaret Jay meeting on Lords reform in the Cabinet Office. My officials had forgotten to tell me – and anyway they wanted me at a departmental briefing on meat, which they consider more important than a mere ministerial meeting. I insisted on going to the Cabinet Office but was an hour late. It was held in Cabinet Committee Room A, overlooking the No. 10 gardens, with green fabric walls and fine seventeenth-century portraits of Walpole, Pelham and Harley, some by Kneller. We discussed how to handle the committee stage; and when to arrange for the Cranbourne amendment to be introduced,

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allowing for some 90 hereditaries to be re-elected. There is confusion about what is the actual compromise deal, each party interpreting it differently and it could go wrong. Margaret Jay inclines to drop the compromise anyway and go straight for railroading the original bill through with the Parliament Act. The Tories are complaining bitterly that we are having the second reading on the Monday of Holy Week. But the Bishops have pointed out that they don’t see them in church anyway, certainly not on the Monday. Quick lunch at the Lords and then did my two Questions, on meat and on quarantine. Both went smoothly as I had done my homework on the specific details. On quarantine, I tried to commit us to speedy action and the Tory questioners were very helpful. Had light supper in the Home Room. With Nora David, who is ­remarkably sharp for 84, and told me that she couldn’t give up the red wine for Lent. Said, ‘I don’t have a religious hang up.’ I said nor do I, no hang up, but going to mass with Father Flanagan gives me pleasure. When it doesn’t, I shall stop. Back to the library to read more Elmore. Am beginning to like these late Monday nights in the Lords library, alone in a deep red leather armchair, surrounded by high walls of bookcases with shiny leather volumes, coats of arms, big clocks ticking, occasional boat noises from the Thames and the TV monitor of business in the Chamber clanging with each new speaker. Some reminders of Oxford, as a student in the Bodleian 40 years ago. The hours slip. It is really a club, with very few of those present knowing what is currently going on in the Chamber, just hoping it will end not too late. It did, before midnight, and I went home to open dozens of waiting letters, none exciting.

Tuesday 16 March 1999 Walked to Henry Stokes charming bookshop in Elizabeth Street to chat to its great owner, Phoebe, about Cheltenham. Quick lunch at Jenny Lo, then home to watch the first two races at Cheltenham on TV, tremendous ­atmosphere, wished I was there. Then walked quickly to the Lords to watch the Champion Hurdle – the great Istrabecq walked it, to the great delight of the Irish. Cleared another huge red box then went to MAFF for Nick Brown’s party to celebrate his triumph in the Agenda 2000 Agriculture Council. In fact it was a muddled compromise with only tiny progress, but suppose could have been worse. Nick was very friendly and in

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good  form. Told me he was pressing ahead with the quarantine reform regardless, and that he agreed with me over the importance of the Horse industry and was writing to No. 10 to put in a claim for its monitoring to come to MAFF providing we had some money for it. Encouraging. If he was like this more often we could r­ ecreate a good ministerial team. Then I heard we had a division in the Lords, so I sprinted back. Won by only 3, so good I didn’t miss it. Home to pick up Sarah and we went to Wiltons restaurant for a special dinner they are putting on of ‘high cuisine at low prices’. The food was good, three courses for £35, but since they then charged £35 for each bottle of ­ordinary house white, they got the bill up to their usual astronomical levels. We were with Graham Greene and Diana. She was very brave, still feeling ill and worried about daughter Hubble’s cancer. Graham obviously likes her – he is going to the theatre with her tomorrow – and might like to make it an item, but is terrified what ex-wife Sally would do to punish him. Very nice evening.

Wednesday 17 March 1999 Woke early and excited to a glorious spring day. Cloudless sky, no wind and temperature rose into the 20s. Banished all the dreariness and depression of recent weeks. To Paddington for Cheltenham and under the train indicator met my son Stephen, who to my delight shares my racing passion and is great company. We identified six fine animals – none of which eventually finished in the first three. Felt the familiar excitement as we entered the course, among crowds of happy people and laughing Irish. Bought shamrock for St Patrick’s Day – it dried quickly and am told it needs dipping in Guinness to revive it (a bit like me!). Went straight to the Royal Box, up the slowest lift in Christendom. Met by my favourite racing chairman, Sam Vestey, who is a wonderful host. The usual nice racing crowd there. Andrew and Rose Parker Bowles as welcoming as ever. The Queen Mum arrived promptly. She came over to shake my hand, saying, ‘You racing again.’ Sat with Ci Ci Vestey, who asked me if we wanted to rent a house on their estate, and with Mrs Waley-Cohen, who is impressively into painting, invited me to the Serpentine Gallery, and kindly said, ‘We miss you in the Arts.’ I replied, ‘I miss me there too.’ Her fine horse won a big race next day, to everyone’s pleasure. The racing was great all afternoon. Nothing like it elsewhere and far better than Ascot. Though the Queen Mum’s horse fell at the second hurdle

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in the first race. ‘Not my lucky course,’ she said. Sam Vestey’s two horses also failed, but all spirits remained high since the sport was so good. I met Peter Oborne and thanked him for writing a fair piece about me in the Express. We went to the sunny lawns and watched the great Irish banker fall in the big hurdle. The thousands of Irish fell silent and the finish was as quiet as in church. But a great day. A day like this at the races is better than any doctor’s antibiotics in curing the body and the spirit.

Thursday 18 March 1999 Dry and fine but not so warm as yesterday. Walk into the Lords for quick lunch with Alf Dubs before front bench. Nothing exciting there except irritation with the Lib Dems for keeping voting against us. More press nonsense about ministerial gifts. Sunday Times is asking everybody what gifts they have received. Margaret Jay says it will be best to keep any gifts unopened in your office for the five years of government and then take them home. I say my few gifts are mainly cheese, so the atmosphere in our office will become challenging before the five years are up.

Saturday 20 March 1999 Colder and grey, but took Honey on long walk around Shottesbrooke. Off  the lead, she chased some sheep and lambs, so for the first time ever, I  whacked her as punishment. She looked very contrite and walked a while with her tummy touching the ground as if guiltily trying to shrink. Won’t  let  her off the lead again among animals. Terriers are ultimately undisciplinable, even cowards like Honey.

Monday 22 March 1999 Phone call from Andrew Higgins, who was on the Kennedy Quarantine Committee. He told me that the Committee’s crucial and controversial recommendation, that it would take three years to introduce the new system, was never in fact a Committee view and was never discussed in the Committee. Chairman Kennedy simply turned up one day and told them that that recommendation was going in the report and it was not negotiable. We both conclude that it was dictated to Kennedy by the MAFF vets, who wanted the reform to be introduced as slowly as possible – partly to give their friends who run the private quarantine kennels the maximum time on

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their high income from the old system. We have all felt constrained by that one recommendation. But it wasn’t a Committee conclusion at all, just part of a deal to help the vets! So I phoned Liz Loyd in No. 10 and told her. Will increase the pressure from there to get quicker change. Also discussed the need for para vets to staff our meat hygiene service. I told her I had pursued this but MAFF did nothing. So then I had tried to get Tessa Blackstone at Education to change the vets seven-year training, a monopoly ramp. She said she would try. Liz is also aware that the small abattoirs are in revolt at their new high charges. I pointed out that it is the agenda of MAFF vets to drive small abattoirs out of business. Watch Dad’s Army. Capt. Mainwaring is a genius creation. Wish we had him running MAFF. He would feel at home. Supper with Sarah in the Lords dining room, cancelling the Gran Paradiso because stuck with a late whip and several divisions, all comfortably won. I invited Labour peer, Andrew Stone, CEO of Marks and Spencer, to join us. Sarah was very interested in his fascinating description of how M&S decides its fashion lines – and how it got it totally wrong this season. Told us how he grew up in a Jewish home. He was kicked out of school and worked on the street markets and said he ‘could have become a villain’, but was rescued by M&S just in time. Frank about his frustrations in the Lords, feeling the full-timers are hostile to those like him who also do a proper job. Like him. Unusual man.

Wednesday 24 March 1999 Into a rare ministerial meeting. Actually a good one. We discussed quarantine and Nick said, ‘We know this department is not exactly enthusiastic for reform.’ I told him about the scam on the Kennedy three years to implement it. He also said MAFF is ‘on the verge of bankruptcy’ and no money for any schemes. Went back to London home and reworked my Horse speech for Thursday. Still have no MAFF briefing or draft speech for that. Walked back to lunch with Frank Longford. Frank was in his usual dishevelled state, but still sharp and well informed. He is an encyclopaedia of modern history, having known most of the key players. He was at Eton with Hailsham (visited him last week and ‘I found he had lost his marbles; I suppose I am lucky still to have mine, though my eyes have gone and I cannot read any more.’) At Oxford with Hugh Gaitskell (‘He described me as his best friend’) and Richard Crossman. Said Gaitskell was not physically

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strong, ill during the ’45 election. ‘He might not have survived the physical battering as a prime minister. But I think he would have made a good one.’ Thought, ‘All those Wykamists had sex problems. Puritans, but they all slept with other people’s wives.’ He liked Gaitskell, ‘Because he had principles. I like Blair for the same reason. He is a Christian. Though I don’t like the way he played that guitar.’ Said he had never met any of the Beatles, though he ‘liked the idea of Paul McCartney.’ I said I had met McCartney once when our graphic art studio did a record sleeve for him and he seemed genuine. He was impressed that I had set up an art studio. We went into the dining room, him slowly, nearly blind now, and leaning on his stick (about which he had just written a little doggerel poem). Looks like a Methusela mad professor, but I admire his grit and refusal to be laid aside by old age. Don’t think I will go on fighting to be in the public arena if I am still alive at 94. Frank was a don at Christ Church – ‘Nigel Lawson was my last pupil, very bright.’ He pressed me more on my career: ‘You have such gift. You could have been Prime Minister. Why has that not happened? What are you going to do now? Are you stuck? You must not give up. You have so much still to contribute.’ He was very kind and generous – clearly over-generous. The point was that I was indeed ‘stuck’ – in the Lords, a junior minister at a minor department. At my age, stuck in the Lords, there is nowhere else to go. Leaders and top Cabinet ministers don’t come from the Lords. So I just soldier on. I am not too keen on that. I said, ‘It is like at a railway junction. Some are on the fast track. Some on the slow track. Most of us in the Lords are (contentedly) stuck in the sidings.’ He again repeated, ‘I want to help you. You have so much to contribute.’ Perhaps. He is very brave and enjoys the battle for all kinds of lost causes, on some of which he may prove right. I may prefer another cause, not a lost cause – my private life. Frank is very kind to me and has always wanted to encourage (relatively) younger people. But he generously misjudges me in two respects. First, is that I clearly would not be suitable as a prime minister. To do that great job, apart from the requisite ability, one has to enjoy totally, even obsessively, all the rumble, blood and clatter of the top political jungle. I do not. I could not focus entirely on the political warfare. I have too many other interests and pleasures, including a strong private life, for which the top of politics leaves insufficient space. As James Callaghan once said to me, ‘Serious politics is a 110 per cent game – and if you are only 99 per cent committed, you might as well give up.’ I enjoy being involved, but not wholly involved. Politics is not the totality of my life. I love observing, advising and even commenting. But since

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politics is not the totality of my life, I would not (setting aside ability) be suitable to be a modern prime minister (the nineteenth century was different and less demanding). Second, is that I absolutely would not want to be prime minister – nor even an MP. Having worked closely with two very good prime ministers, Wilson and Callaghan, I enjoyed that privilege, but concluded that in no way would I want that devastating (and usually unfulfilling) job. It is destructive of one’s private and family life, which matters most to me. So dear Frank was trying to be helpful – but I am not on that particular railway track (even if it had ever been a possibility, which it has not). He drank a half-carafe of wine while I stuck to water. I would now be laid out after drinking all that wine and the sherry. But he was still on the ball, though looking ever more eccentric, with his wisps of grey hair sticking out at the side, his battered suit and crumbs all over his stained waistcoat, as if he is Dr Who about to enter his time machine. He doesn’t have to worry about appearances at his age. He is just Authentic Longford. Very special. At one point he nearly choked on his food and I patted him on the back till he recovered – though fearing it might be Farewell Frank at 94. A good thing about the Lords is that one can meet these great relics of our political history, as if in a Museum of Living History. I like that and respect them. Earlier, Frank asked about my private life, and showed great relief when I said I would eventually marry Sarah. Dropped into PQs. Briefed some people to press for greater speed on quarantine reform. Then came home to clear a mass of letters and papers on my desk.

Thursday 25 March 1999 Straight to the Royal Veterinary College in Camden Town, my old route in from Hampstead for many years. No nostalgia though, since Camden still looks scruffy. The hall was full for the equine forum, with Andrew Higgins and Andrew Parker Bowles in the audience. I had written my own speech, so could give it with more conviction, and it seemed to go down well. Chairman Sir Colin Spedding said, ‘Lord D clearly knows and cares about horses’ – though I did tell them my knowledge was fairly thin outside of racing. Have never ridden. Satisfying to see our new Horse Federation so widely welcomed. Shows that ministers can achieve something after all. Left by car just as Princess Anne arrived. Sorry to miss her since would like to hear her reactions to what we have done. Drove straight

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to our weekly meeting of junior ministers. Have just discovered there is a £70 million underspend in the department. Officials have not revealed this when pushing us to cancel all our favourite projects. Took the Treasury to point it out when we were asking for more money. Note that I now hear nothing from the South-West region. Technically, I am still the minister for that region and used to have all kinds of projects going there and received regular memos from the regional office proposing fresh visits. Now that has all stopped since Nick announced he was taking an interest in it and went there before Xmas. Never hear a word. Nothing on my project for improving farm safety or on their specialist foods. The man running the interesting lobster project in Padstow has contacted me privately in the Lords. Don’t know what Nick told the region, but I have obviously been squeezed out. Lunch in the Home Room – usual sausage and mash. Then to front bench. Margaret Jay not there, at Cabinet committee. Before going, she asked me to trawl Tory friends and find out what they are doing about Lords reform. I talked to Mark Marlesford, Inglewood and Kimball. All said the Tories are very split and their leadership cannot control them. Their Committee of Conservative Lords apparently ‘ambushed’ Strathclyde to demand that he fights our reform bill all the way. Kimball said, ‘They are mad, suicidal, like going over the top in the first war.’ He said that Cranbourne is organising a movement among Tory Lords to build support for his compromise of keeping 91 hereditaries until the final stage of reform is completed after the Royal Commission reports. All agree we will win and get our way – either through the compromise or through imposing the Parliament Act.

Friday 26 March 1999 Mild spring day with the daffodils awash everywhere in the fields around the house. Nick made the statement on quarantine this morning. He likes Fridays because there is little other political, certainly no parliamentary news to compete with him. Means no statement by me in the Lords since we don’t usually sit on a Friday. The statement represents progress, but still says will take two years from now to implement – almost three years since Kennedy, which is what the obstructionist officials and vets wanted, if they couldn’t block reform altogether. In fact, it could be done easily in six months, because all the tests are ready and Eurotunnel have offered us the port facilities for nothing. Bombing of Serbia continues impressively. I understand the desire to do something about the uncivilised Serbs slaughtering Kosovo. But it

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troubles me. One never wins a war from the air, and we don’t want to fight on the ground.

Sunday 28 March 1999 In the evening watched the last two brilliant Blackadders: first the story of looking for the German spy in the hospital, and then the final one, where the whole Blackadder team finally go over the top to destruction. Fine ending, because, previously, they have simply made a joke of World War I. Now they state that it was not really a joke but a total horror.

Monday 29 March 1999 Grey morning with drizzle. Still no clear news from Serbia except they are ethnically cleansing Kosovo, driving the Muslims out of their homes and into Montenegro and Albania. Up to London at 11.00 am for the great two-day debate on Lords reform. Last night read the Tuchman chapter on the 1909–11 battle over Lords reform, with the ‘Hedgers’ compromising (today’s Cranbournes) and the ‘Last-Ditchers’ (then his great grandfather Cecil) fighting in their ditches. History is repeating – including Tories who vote with the Liberal or Labour government to avoid worse measures. Sat in the chamber to support Margaret opening the debate for our side. Clear and direct presentation of the case for reform, little elaboration, as if the case is already decided – which it is, both in Margaret’s mind and in political reality. And listened to Tory leader, Tom Strathclyde. He is an honest fellow and made no attempt to defend the hereditary principle as a basis for membership of the legislature. He sounded insecure, his party divided, some wanting chaos and others a dignified exit. Packed house with 100 standing – 184 speakers to come. But not a great historic atmosphere in the chamber – it had been diluted by the earlier big debate on the White Paper, which our side opposed and the Tories pressed for, but in fact it helped us, lancing the boil. I did two big red boxes in my Lords office. In one of them were striking papers on the protests of the small abattoirs threatened by our huge new fee charges. Indefensibly high because, although they only slaughter one day a week, they are charged for a full week for the vet who must be in attendance only that one day, usually Monday. This clearly suited the bureaucratic convenience of the Meat Hygiene Service, but I thought it grossly unfair to the small abattoirs, so I had complained bitterly in my writing on the paper.

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Why should they be charged for the majority of days which vets are not working? Now MAFF have been forced to take legal advice and have been told that it is illegal to charge for days not worked. Good. So will have to make the system fairer to the small abattoirs. It is clear that MAFF has an agenda to close the small ones, which are bureaucratically inconvenient. If they can force them to close and just deal with a few big ones, then the officials’ lives will be much easier. They don’t give a damn that it means people going out of business and workers made unemployed. I will do what I can to help them, but am not the minister specifically in charge of vets, and when MAFF has an agenda (as it has with slowing down quarantine reform), it is very difficult for a junior minister, with no support from the top minister, to achieve much. But will try. Into the Lords for lunch in the Home Room. Sat with right-wing economist Ralph Harris, who is always chirpy. He presses for an LSE ­ Hon  Fellowship for his fellow free-marketeer, Arthur Seldon, which he deserves. But as an out-of-fashion right-winger, the School will probably snub him. Margaret Jay walked with me towards the Commons and told me that this morning Jonathan Powell, from No. 10, raised with her the issue of my resignation letter, still ‘lying on the table’. There is a mini reshuffle due among our whips and he thought I ‘wanted out as soon as possible’. She said, ‘ No, only in the big reshuffle.’ She is very supportive. Came home in a taxi with Henry Carnarvon at teatime to rest before the long night ahead. He told me that the cross-bench meeting had decided to support the Weatherill amendment. That is better than voting with the loonies. Our side is very relaxed either way. The debate, with 184 speakers, almost all saying the same thing, was dead in the Chamber. But the corridors and restaurants were alive and packed with groups of people chatting. When I went into the library to finish Tuchman’s The Proud Tower, I found it littered with long bodies of ancient lineage lying in deep red leather armchairs, snoring in upper-class cacophony, rather like the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra on a very off night. I drove Sarah home at 11 and then returned to wait for the division. Had some food and drink with our side in Margaret Jay’s office, supplied by M&S. Then slipped away into the silent room of the library, read some more and dozed a little. The Proud Tower is all about the drawing to a close of the era of aristocratic self-confident amateurism before World War I. Tonight in the Lords it felt like the final chapter of that story, stretched out too long, but come at last, as young Winston Churchill forecast it must in 1909.

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Went into the Chamber after 2.00 am for the windup speeches. The House absolutely packed and alert, with a hundred standing and the steps of the throne crowded. David Steel was accomplished and amusing for the Liberals. Mackay was subdued for the Tories, expressing no views on the hereditary principle and reflecting the splits on his side. Gareth Williams was impressive for us. At times personal and emotional. It clearly means a lot to him, almost the revenge of the old Welsh miners, like his father, on the coalmine owners who sacked them callously. His chips and emotions showed – together with an impressive glimpse of steel, which I have admired before. He is deeply radical. Drove myself home and to bed just before 4.00 am. It had been an ­historic occasion and I was glad to have been there. But I feel semi-detached from it all. And I will miss some of my hereditary friends if they don’t ever return to the Lords.

Wednesday 31 March 1999 Woken by phone calls after very little sleep. But did not feel too bad. Glorious morning. Collected half-a-dozen books from Henry Stokes in Elizabeth Street and then walked to the Lords. Patrick O’Brian arrived in a taxi and I showed him round the Lords, and then Lucius Falkland joined us for lunch. Patrick seemed less frail than when in France and was witty and chatty. Said he had been living and writing in Trinity Dublin – ‘They knew I am now living on my own.’ Told us stories from long ago and seemed very on the ball. Indicated he might like to come to the Lords, which he deserves, though he would be on the Tory side. Showed huge knowledge of the genealogy of various peers, knowing their eighteenth-century side. Touching about his childhood near Brixham, when the sea was full of red-sailed Brixham trawlers. We had coffee in the guest room looking across a sunny Thames to pretty St Thomas’ Hospital. A fine example of the decline in British architecture, from the lovely seventeenth-century original to the ugly post-war utility block.

Thursday 1 April 1999 Heat wave. April Fool’s Day, up to 70°f. Phoned Graham Greene in Italy. He is fed up with the press coverage of him and the British Museum. He and Claus Moser have raised £130 million in three years from private donors, but get no credit, just complaints that it

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is old-fashioned and not a trendy theme park. He will be ready to resign as chairman soon.

Good Friday, 2 April 1999 Another stunning day, a little cooler with a breeze. The shrubs around the tennis court are all out and we continue to enjoy the long views across our new field, which Sarah has bought from her neighbour. Happy to be here and not, like Graham and Jeremy, in Italy, entailing all the horrors of present-day air travel. Sarah busy plotting for Cornwall next week. Our first family expedition in England. Salmon lunch in the conservatory – always fish on Friday. Helped Sarah with the crossword. Sarah does the easy ones first on her own and then calls me in to help with the difficult ones – though she is often brighter than me at guessing them. I can do the ones that require an informational ­background, but am not so good at the verbal guesses. This is something we like to do together. I kid myself that it will hold off the dreaded Alzheimer’s. Serbia goes on worse and worse. They have driven out most of the Kosovo Albanians and the TV pictures are horrifying. Miles of tired and starving people dragging through the hills, their belongings stolen and houses torched by the barbaric Serbs. The latter seem to have much in common with the Nazis, similar commitment to slaughtering other races, with utter contempt for humanity or world opinion. Our bombing campaign is failing to halt them, being too timid, restrained and prevented by constant bad weather from actually hitting the Serb army on the ground.

Saturday 3 April 1999 Grey and drizzly, but at least dry and mild at Towcester for the races. Sarah came and we first went for drinks with the Heskeths at their beautiful Easton Neston house. Easton is handsome, with fine proportions, high ceilings, mixed paintings, mainly portraits, the occasional Reynolds, and seascapes and some lovely wall fabrics. I chatted mainly with Alexander and a nice man named Connell who edits the Guardian ‘Week’. We jointly agreed to set up a new ‘PIC’ dining club. The ‘Politically Incorrect Club’, which would meet annually at the Savoy and denounce PC lunacies. But it must not be a coterie of right-wing Tories.

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We drove from the house to the course, looking very spring-like, with many improvements to encourage families since I was first involved. Nice to see the familiar gatemen and the old stand newly painted. Chatted with the Buswells and other local friends. Sarah talked with a strange Baring man who lives on a boat and had to buy his country jacket from Oxfam in order to stay here for the weekend. He had an attractive Scandinavian lady in tow who told me she ‘helped with his business systems’, whatever that might mean. Claire Hesketh was friendly as ever and said she missed me from the racecourse board. Towcester always lifts my spirits and I was sorry to leave, delayed by the Tote system collapsing, as often, and its failure to pay out after the fourth race. Maybe it was my tiny dual-forecast winnings that finally sank it.

Sunday 4 April 1999 Still grey, but mild. Go to Twyford church for the Easter awakening. Absolutely packed – at least 200 (Sarah had only 40 in her Anglican church in Waltham St Lawrence) – and I enjoyed it immensely. Newspapers still full of Serbian horrors and increasing pressure to use land troops. I still fear the outcome. A million Kosovan refugees are starving and dying on their frontier. Now there are photos of the rows of men the Serbs have slaughtered.

Monday 5 April 1999 Nori and Philip Graham came for lunch. Nori is now my oldest surviving close friend. Have not seen her for six months. I am too slack in that area, let old friends slip. Will try to do better this year, especially when I get out of this ministerial job. We three went for a walk from Waltham out to Shottesbrooke and back. Incidentally, MAFF has recently become really a part-time job. Since Nick allows me little to do, I now go weeks with only one meeting a day. I am really just a Lords spokesman, with a parliamentary job, not a ministerial one. Well, an unpaid whip can do that, and often has done in the past. It is a waste of a ministerial post to keep it with MAFF.

Tuesday 6 April 1999 Very windy and grey at first, though some sunshine in the middle-day.

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Really looking forward to going off to Cornwall in the morning. Car already packed to the gills. Honey looks nervous, worried she might be left behind.

Wednesday 7 April 1999 Off promptly on sunny morning for quick and easy three-hour drive down to Cornwall. Stopped at Linton for coffee at the fishing hotel. On to Port Isaac for slow lunch. Outside an icy wind, but always feel good here. Found our rented house in Trebetherick, down a long bumpy path. Stunningly situated on the edge of the coastal path with ­beautiful views down the Camel estuary to Padstow and the other way out to sea. Took Honey for a long walk along the sands inland, with the tide rushing in fast. The house is spacious and friendly, though, as usual when renting in England, not all the electrics work. Had a cold beef supper watching Man United outplayed by Turin but scraping a 1–1 draw with a last-minute goal by Giggs. Sarah stated firmly that we hadn’t come to Cornwall to watch footie, but I reconciled her to the cultural sporting ­realities of Labour life.

Thursday 8 April 1999 Opened the curtains to thick mist, which hid the low hills on the ­promontory opposite. Sarah was disappointed but I mind less since I have my books. That is a minor difference between us: like all her Clifford-Turner family, Sarah was brought up lovingly and prosperously, but without much reading. None of her brother, sister or their eight children, all expensively privately educated, went to university, and few read, certainly nothing serious. Sarah reads most, and most seriously, but not avidly. Reading is the greatest comfort for me when we are stuck anywhere – Cornwall, Céret, Ireland or wherever – in bad weather. Then Sarah has little to do and wants to be at home where she can busy herself with domestic matters. Walked with Honey before lunch; very scruffy place, as some of urban Cornwall is. But sea beautiful. Back for cold lunch. Started Thomas Harris’s brilliant Red Dragon before a blazing fire. Sasha arrived, to our joy. Then risotto and bed.

Friday 9 April 1999 Again started grey and very breezy, but much brighter later. Still enjoying the break. Walked two miles down the beach and over the sand dunes

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to avoid the high tide to Rock, then took the lovely old ferry to Padstow, crowded with an impressive group of ancient Americans under the aegis of ‘Elderly Hostellers’, who come to walk in Europe each year. Marvellously resilient and friendly, as Americans can be. Some over 80 years old, walking six to eight miles a day. Met the Cornwall Chief Fishing Officer for two hours MAFF b ­ usiness. Impressive man, ex-fisherman with big black beard. Discussed the ­proposed lobster hatchery he has been pushing for seven years (with little ­encouragement from MAFF). Officials knew I had arranged to see him to encourage him, but sent no briefing or message. He hopes to start building the hatchery in the autumn. We discussed it walking around the quay. Told me he had started off working for MAFF – ‘the worst time of my life’. Found the department ‘totally negative. Nobody was interested in doing ­anything to help the fishing industry, or even farming down here.’ He had once ­proposed a fishing project which he hoped would help the fishing industry and offered to supervise it in his spare weekends. They opposed it and told him that he shouldn’t have any spare time. (In MAFF’s view, he should have been fully occupied stopping projects which helped anybody or might create extra work to disturb the officials’ quiet lives.) So he left MAFF and felt it was the best decision he ever made – he said that only two of the 18 people who joined MAFF when he did were still there – and those ‘certainly the most negative. Anyone with any enterprise is driven out.’ Met Sarah and Sash and the Georges in the pretty old Padstow town and we had a delicious lunch of hot pasties and Cornish beer sitting outside looking over the busy quay. Then we crossed back in the ferry and Sash and I walked up the beach, damp from the receding tide, with families having old-fashioned fun with buckets and spades, digging channels, building dams and castles. Unchanged seaside holiday life and nostalgic for me since Blackpool in the 1940s, or Ireland earlier. Have certainly had good exercise today, at least five miles. At home read The Times – more Serbian disasters and Blair even further ahead in the polls. Charles, who had rented a house nearby, facing Padstow, with his girlfriend, joined us for a tasty supper of lobster from Port Isaac and strawberries and ice cream.

Saturday 10 April 1999 Woke surprisingly early for me and opened the curtains to roaring wind and lashing rain. So got back into bed and went to sleep again. Woke at nine to

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clear skies and sunshine. Wish that routine always worked so well with the weather. Drove with Sash and the Georges to Port Quin. We took the inland path to Port Isaac, in bright sun with views right to Tintagel, my favourite stretch of English shore. Over lush green fields, past herds of bullocks, which were worryingly inquisitive. The trees and shrubs are several weeks behind us in Berkshire, though lots of white bluebells, if that is not a contradiction. I am not great on flowers. Another slow but charming lunch. Then home to watch the Grand National. I backed the winner, the Irish Bobbyjo at 10–1, my system rarely letting me down. Basically, if any runners haven’t won over three-and-a-half miles this season, or have recently fallen, then they don’t win the National. So I eliminate all of them, together with the inexperienced younger hopefuls, and the amateur jockeys, and then am left with a just few – that normally provide one or two finishers in the first four.

Sunday 11 April 1999 Read by fire, others sitting watching the tide sweep in. Walked before lunch beyond Polzeath to the far headland looking up the Camel estuary to Padstow, watching the surfers and skidding boats, and could see our house. Quickly packed to leave. Honey sat in her basket near the back door, letting us know she didn’t want to be left behind. Fox’s Walk looked very pretty and welcoming, with the blossom and leaves and flowers all out when we arrived at dusk.

Monday 12 April 1999 Grey and cold with lashing showers. Not looking forward to going back to MAFF. Up after lunch to London for the Lords Reform Strategy Group. Met in Margaret Jay’s room in the Lords and had serious discussion of tactics. Tories have put down lots of wrecking amendments and we will clearly have trouble. Decide to try to take the moderate Weatherill compromise amendment first to set the tone, then no more concessions. But if ‘wrecker’ amendments are passed, we will go straight to the Parliament Act. Nobody is absolutely clear what has been agreed with anyone, and the Tories cannot control their ‘last-ditcher’ troops. So the future is unclear. Had a big meeting in my MAFF room on controlling the current plague of grey squirrels. Very interesting. Jeff and Elliot came along – and

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so did a whole battalion of senior officials: the top two from the Forestry Commission, the Head of Pesticides, top boss Richard Carden and other senior MAFF colleages. The cost of the meeting must have been enormous and, as usual, I, as chairman, was far and away the lowest-paid person there. My bright secretary, Theresa, said afterwards that MAFF ‘must have been worried about something, to send so many top chiefs along’. Jeff said, ‘They were clearly terrified about something … I know what it is … it is the threat of a ministerial initiative! … On squirrels!’ They never turn out the big guns to do anything positive, only to stop any ministerial initiative. In fact it wasn’t a very big initiative. Not at all. I simply wanted to know if we could do anything to stop the spread of tree rats, which damage the broadleaf trees and drive out our beautiful red squirrels. The officials all firmly said, with united departmental authority: ‘No, no, no, nothing can be done.’ I accepted that, but asked for a paper on how to coordinate better what little we do do about squirrels. That was a triumph for me – the maximum ministerial initiative they will allow. To coordinate better on squirrels! Now I can retire contentedly. Job done!

Tuesday 13 April 1999 Phoned my office at 10.15 am, but nobody yet in. Walked in for a briefing on next week’s questions on meat hygiene and abattoirs. Can see the tangle MAFF is in. Trying to raise extra money from higher charges, but these bound to drive the small abattoirs out of business. Suspect that is the MAFF agenda. Tell them I can see that their lives would be administratively easier if we killed off every abattoir except one huge monopoly – so much easier to administer. But that would be terrible for the rural economy. Far from the small farmers. They nod. Very good official presentation on the curious Millennium Bug problem – in response to my and Jeff ’s complaints that ministers are not sufficiently involved (i.e., barely involved at all). At the end, I congratulated them and said it was ‘particularly good that all the ministers are here’. Of course, Nick was not there, since he rarely attends meetings with his own ministerial colleagues. Jeff laughed out loud and later said, ‘That was out of order.’ Chatted with impressive old Tory warhorse, Norman Tebbit, who was very friendly and said, ‘You were a fool not to walk away from Maxwell sooner. But nobody serious believes you had anything to do with the shit there.’ Tonight was the big free vote on the homosexual sex-at-16 bill. I had decided to vote for it this time because I had made my quirky protest against

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rampant political correctness at the initial stage of the bill – and because the protection for the young had been greatly strengthened. Also because the Tory amendment would have wrecked the whole reforming bill, which I could not support. However, it went on late. I dithered and then went home with Sarah. I count as an abstainer, though I would have voted with the government. Fourteen of our side again voted with the Tories and we were heavily defeated. That reform now awaits the Parliament Act, which will be heavily in use next year.

Thursday 15 April 1999 Front bench was interesting – on handling Lords reform, where we have no idea on how the Tory masses will behave, though it looks increasingly messy and their front bench cannot control their reactionaries.

Sunday 18 April 1999 Glorious sunny spring morning after the early mist cleared. Sad news that Cardinal Hume is dying of cancer. Has been a great Catholic leader.

Monday 19 April 1999 The PQ went well, helped by Margaret Mar kindly telling me beforehand what she would ask – about our massive use of foreign vets supervising abattoirs: something like 25 per cent of our full-timers and 50 per cent of the part-time are foreign, mainly Spanish. Because British vets charge some three times as much per hour as the continentals, reflecting their monopoly control of supply in the profession. We must tackle that. Delightful tea with Christine Challis, long-time secretary of the LSE and friend and supporter. Good fun and gossip. Is enjoying Tony Giddens directorship there, though not convinced of his intellectual profundity. He has raised morale greatly and keeps the students happy. Dashed back to MAFF for a Rooker meeting with the GMO producers, agreeing a code of conduct for genetic production. We have made a lot of progress there. Not sure it will satisfy the media scaremongers who want headlines about babies with three heads resulting from GM foods. Afterwards, Jeff discussed with us the announced changes in our information department, with the boss getting the sack and replaced by our Brussels media boss. Although we junior ministers were all involved in setting up the review leading up to this, none of us were consulted or

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informed about the outcome. After that meeting, Nick told Richard Burden, Jeff ’s PPS, to tell Jeff what he had decided – though Jeff had been with Nick for an hour until minutes beforehand. Bizarre. Elliot and I learned the details later from the public press releases in our weekend red boxes. I said I was surprised that Nick hadn’t told his driver to tell my driver Maggie to tell me! A most curious way to run a team – or non-team, as Jeff would say.

Tuesday 20 April 1999 Another wet and grey morning; this spring is nearly as bad as the winter was. Stayed in all morning to clear huge pile of letters and papers. Then walked in to the Lords. Cleared a red box in my office. Tea with Lib Richard Holme, known 30 years since he was publishing Alan Aldridge’s pop art from our graphic art studios, including the great The Butterfly Ball and The Grasshopper’s Feast, which became a cult cartoon film. Discussed our thriller book preferences and he recommended young Alan Furst, who I put on my next shopping list. Retired to the library to survive the long haul on Lords reform – today the first day in Committee. Reading some of James Ellroy’s Dahlia and dozing. Going very slowly in the Chamber, with the Tories deliberately spinning it out in a filibuster. But Mark Marlesford told me they would not divide. So I slipped away to my dinner with Michael Bedford at his smart new Mayfair house. Despite the heaviest three-line whip we have ever had. But in a choice between the Lords and my old friend, Michael, with his first dinner since finishing the decor of his new Mayfair South Street house, I have no doubts which to choose. I don’t think E.M. Forster was right to put his friends before his country, but I happily occasionally put them before my Party. Dinner was superb. Among the guests was TV mogul Michael Green, looking very pleased with himself. Has made so much money it has taken the individual edge off him. He said, perhaps jokingly, he would like to come to the Lords. I replied that he would have to change his politics for me to help him on that. He said with a convincing grin, ‘No problem in that.’ I was attracted by the young conductor, Graham Jenkins, performing at Glyndebourne, but mainly with the Cologne and Dallas orchestras. Fascinating to talk to, with none of the unworldliness of many musical people. Found the Germans and Americans much more supportive of the Arts than the Brits. Also very resentful of the critical side of much of British society. Made him very content to live abroad. ‘The British media just

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knocks anyone who is successful,’ he said. He had a lively wife full of good spirit. Would like to meet them again. At dinner I sat next to Michael’s wife, Deborah. Michael was beaming throughout dinner. He looked very young and proud of his new house. We got home just before one, having enjoyed ourselves enormously.

Wednesday 21 April 1999 Quite a heavy day, with an unusual two pages of diary engagements. Sunny morning and went in early to a ministerial meeting. Amiable proceedings but nothing of import came up, except we did discuss the continued opposition of some MAFF vets to quarantine reform and Nick showed himself well aware of the problem and the need to liberalise their training. I raised the fact that Nick should attend the Lords Select Committee on CAP Reform, since it is more distinguished than the Commons equivalent and the Tory ex-ministers all attended. But he stubbornly refused. He added, with clear sarcasm, ‘You should go Bernard. They all tell me that you are popular and have stature. So you should go since you have stature.’ Clearly somebody must have foolishly praised me to him; meaning to be helpful, but Nick sees his colleagues as his main enemies, so any praise for them doesn’t go down well with him. His chips showed high on his shoulders. Went to the big room next door for a presentation on how we would cope with a rabies emergency. Top officials there, plus chief vet. All ministers invited – but Nick did not come. Walked across St James’s Park for marvellous lunch at the Meridian with old French friend Marie-Helene Gastineau. Full of nostalgia for our long friendship going back to the last Labour government. Marie Helene is doing a great job for the Anglo-French Chamber of Commerce and we discuss my speech there next month. Will write that myself. She has that relaxed worldliness of sophisticated French ladies of a certain age. She is worried about how much our mutual friend, Tessa Blackstone, is so constricted by her ‘rooted puritanism’. Says it makes it difficult for Tessa to enjoy life to the full, always feeling impelled to disapprove of any cavalier behaviour in others. But we both love Tessa. Back to Lords in Margaret Jay’s room for a meeting of our group on Lords reform. BBC TV was there filming it, so everybody turned up on time. We plotted how to handle the Committee stage. I told them my Tory information was that the official Tories did not want any votes at Committee stage, would concentrate their fire at Report. Then the problem was how we kept

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our troops here for Committee if they knew there would be no serious votes – when there might be some guerilla activity from Tory rebels. I said that the Tory mainstream accepted that the bill would go through, either with the Cranbourne compromise or by the Parliament Act. But some Tories preferred the latter, because it gave them an extra year’s membership and attendance expenses. So we must be very clear what the timetable implications of using the Parliament Act will be. Saw John Wakeham afterwards. Said he had been reading my case at the Press Complaints Commission and offered to mediate. But clear he took the Mail position completely. He said the PCC had never before received 35 pages of evidence from a complainant and could not cope with it – made it too complex. And, anyway, he concluded, since I had a strong case in law I should go to the courts and not to the PCC. To me, this was a completely new definition of the PCC’s role and code. Meant that factual inaccuracies could never be judged if they were also defamatory and could go to court – that is, the only ones the PCC would consider were those that are harmless. And that if there was a lot of documentary evidence (say, 35 pages) supporting the complainant, then it was too complex for the PCC to adjudicate on. This didn’t leave much role for the Commission. It tends to reinforce my developing view that the PCC role is to protect the press barons from the public, not the public from them. Demonstrates the case for abolishing the PCC and having a proper, independent body. I thanked John, who has always been a good friend to Sarah, and reminded him (which he knows, of course) that ministers are not allowed to go to the courts to sue the press. Therefore, I could take this course only if I resigned from office. And I always thought that the PCC was there as a middle-way mediator, to avoid going to law. He said, rather sharply I felt, ‘Well, that is your problem.’

Thursday 22 April 1999 I saw John Wakeham again and he said he would send me a draft suggesting a letter I might send to the PCC that might reach a compromise. That was more helpful. To the Lords for our front-bench meeting. The atmosphere is very good. Margaret Jay leads brilliantly, both clear and firm in her decisions, but very collegiate in bringing everyone into the discussion. On Lords reform, the first big day will be 11 May, when we have the Weatherill amendment for re-electing some hereditaries, which may

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go all night. On Serbia, Defence Minister John Gilbert was as gung-ho as ever, saying that the bombing is a great success and implying that the Serbian army morale is collapsing. On Ireland, dear Alf Dubs is very ­pessimistic. Thinks we won’t get anything on decommissioning from the IRA. Soon we are in the marching season and then no progress is possible. I had lunch with him, repeating my wish for him to succeed me at MAFF when I leave. Back to MAFF for a brief briefing on my abattoir PQ next week. Get some extra numbers – such as that the Tory government closed 600 out of 900 slaughterhouses existing in 1979, so they cannot squeak too loudly. Went to the convening meeting of a new group on promoting the arts in Greater London. Old friends from the London Arts Board there – chaired excellently by Labour MP Tony Colman. Distressed that they elected John McDonnell as secretary. He is an undesirable. Was our Labour candidate in Kentish Town 20 years ago and passionately advocated every left-wing lunacy which Blair’s New Labour Party has since rightly abandoned. Others there were Lucius Falkland and Brian Rix from our place, and Peter Brooke, impressive Tory ex arts minister, from the Commons. Back to the library to read, sleep and chat to Lucius. Lucius is an intelligent and civilised hereditary viscount whose observations on the British class and social system are always interesting. Hope he survives the forthcoming hereditary cull.

Friday 23 April 1999 Wintry day. Slow start. Worked on this diary. Not sure what I will do with it when I leave office. Probably I will have nothing to write about except walks with Honey and doing the crossword with Sarah. Not sure any publisher, or reader, will be interested in that. Watched a bit of racing, but the early flat season always bores me and I miss the wonderful spectacle of the National Hunt jumping.

Sunday 25 April 1999 Mass. Father Flanagan brought us the good news that there was no sermon this week, especially after he read the wrong gospel. Told us the story of the priest who was very proud of his long sermons and, after the start of one, paused and asked, ‘Can everyone at the back hear?’ Someone at the front replied, ‘If not, I would like to swap places.’

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Monday 26 April 1999 Heavy rain all morning, so did my home work for this afternoon’s PQ on abattoirs. Slipped when running upstairs and sprained my foot badly; could only just hobble. Have had more trouble with my feet in the past nine months than previous 60 years – all self-inflicted. The PQ dragged on for 15 minutes because again somebody pulled their previous question and I was left with double time. But went well, though foot hurt every time I rose to the dispatch box. Afterwards, in my office, I studied the files of homework for my appearance on Wednesday before the Standing Committee on CAP Reform. Angry because Nick has saddled me with this, although he excluded me from the Council talks and from all briefing before and after, so I don’t know the current details. Went to nice reception launching a new Council for Animal Welfare. Mainly to liaise with Lawson Soulsby and Andrew Higgins, who are important for my Horse endeavours. Supper in the Home Room – just vegetables. Kept there on unnecessary three-line whip, no danger of a vote. Our backbenchers were fuming and in near-revolt.

Tuesday 27 April 1999 At last a fine morning. News is full of the murder of lovely TV star Jill  Dando, who I met and liked. Tragic – but media turn it into another Princess Di wake. A media death is clearly more important than anything happening in Serbia. Chatted with Ralf Dahrendorf in the library, 70 this week and worryingly rheumy-eyed, but very interesting and I always enjoy talking with him. He had been at Tony Giddens’ final Reith lecture, on democracy. Thought it woolly and vacuous, specifically on globality. Discussed New Labour’s Third Way. We both believe there is no substance in it. Just pretty packaging to an empty box. But it suits Labour politicians, who need a Big Idea that is neither Marxist Left nor Thatcher Right. But I suppose it is justified if it also makes people happy and feel more optimistic. We support Blair because he is basically on the right side in most issues, just as we support Giddens, however woolly, because his popular success will bring support to the LSE and he is good with the students. Supper with Sarah. Charming Frank Longford came over to our table in the dining room and told Sarah, flatteringly, that I was ‘a prime minister manqué’. I told him I didn’t mind being manqué, having observed a few unhappy prime ministers.

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Stayed late, voting at midnight and again at 1.00 am – on the hilariously vital issue of whether the bill should refer to ‘a’ or ‘an’ hereditary peer. Madness for ministers to be kept so late on such nonsense. Some, like Tessa Blackstone, sensibly went home early. Margaret Jay told me that her father, Jim Callaghan, had been in hospital in Sussex with a bleeding problem, but the hospital could find nothing and he was OK. I asked in future for her to tell me if anything was seriously wrong and I would go to see him.

Wednesday 28 April 1999 Glorious day and full and interesting for me. All meetings satisfying. Having an official of the high quality of Kate Timms in attendance twice helped. Attended Lords European Sub Committee D on EU CAP reform. The Chairman was clearly annoyed that our top minister, Nick Brown, hadn’t come. Me too. But I got through, with much help on the detail from Kate. Had a Private Notice Question from Tom Stanley sprung on me. No notice and no briefing. Gareth Williams should have done it because it was actually about beef on the bone in Wales, but he is abroad. Stanley is understandably concerned that we had changed the powers in the bill and given the decision to the Welsh Assembly, after assuring the Lords that we wouldn’t do that – and, we didn’t inform them of this change later. Certainly a discourtesy. I dead-batted throughout. MJ interrupted, angry at the waste of time, she thinking it was clearly part of the general filibustering. Then the Tories got very angry and forced a vote on the business motion. A lot of hot air. To the ‘Minecor’ meeting on fostering our EU relations. First a photo of us in Downing Street in front of the door. The chief photographer asked to take a separate photo of me because ‘We don’t have anything recent of you in the files: you have kept a very low profile.’ Not low enough! The meeting was in the FCO Map Room, with Nelson and lots of maps on the walls. Opened by Neil Kinnock explaining well the workings of the Commission. More thickset, but still as friendly and fluent as ever, with more substance now. I presented two good MAFF papers on how to handle Europe, with detailed examples, and Joyce Quin praised them from the chair. The EU is always Packer’s impressive area. Quick meeting in my office on our future overseas visits, much of it pointless since I won’t be here to make them, but I didn’t reveal that. Refused Bulgaria point blank at any time. Did press for a visit to Ireland, and to invite Joe Walsh here to take him racing – ‘assuming I am included’.

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Then off to Politicos, the very useful bookshop–coffee bar in Artillery Row for the launch of a new book on the great Labour intellectual of the 1950s to 1970s, Tony Crosland. Surprised how few Labour politicians were there. Roy Jenkins and Tony Benn were present, and David Owen and Bill Rodgers (both defectors to the SDP) came in late. Benn spoke, as an old Oxford friend, without mentioning that he had opposed most of the things Tony stood for, and vice versa. He used the occasion to attack New Labour and give a complete rewriting of history, suggesting he had always been correct and that New Labour social democracy had already failed through embracing capitalism instead of going to the Hard Left. No recognition that it had already succeeded electorally – nor that he personally had nearly destroyed the Labour Party as a democratic electoral force in the 1980s by trying to take it to the Left. Enjoyed much of today. Sunshine helps

Thursday 29 April 1999 My meetings today were satisfying. If every week were like this, I might consider staying on. The Times is running Tory MP George Walden’s memoirs. Remember him at the FCO with David Owen at the end of the last Labour government. Bright, almost academic, abrasive at times nearly to the point of arrogance, but I always respected his independence of view. Memoirs brilliantly written. Vivid, piercing portraits of the key Tory players. Funny on the present lot, for whom he clearly feels contempt (Hague a ‘nothing’) and sad on Thatcher in decline, even before leaving power, drinking too much, listening to nobody and in her ‘anecdotage’. The press of course love it for all the usual wrong reasons – its cruel criticisms rather than its many sharp perceptions. Had briefing on organics. Dramatic developments with our new scheme. Have had more applicants to convert to organics in the first two weeks of our scheme than altogether in the old scheme since it started in 1994. But now we will soon run out of money. The front-bench meeting was interesting. Discussed our tactics ahead of the Weatherill compromise amendment next Tuesday. I said we must have tactics to exploit the Tory splits – and not to unite them by being offensively aggressive. Caithness told me that they are in such chaos that ‘It will soon be time to bring in the men in white coats.’ At Questions, I sat next to Defence Minister John Gilbert. Gave another gung-ho running commentary on the Serbian war, which would have

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made even John Wayne blush. ‘The weather is improving so we are going to bomb the shit out of them,’ he said. ‘We cannot nuke them, unfortunately.’ The worst politicians are usually more aggressive than any of our generals. Thank God the military decide on the ground. Repercussions continue on the Gareth Williams ‘beef on the bone’ episode yesterday. Tories coming back with more questions on why he hadn’t revealed that the Welsh Assembly would have the power to take a different view from the English ban – which cheers those like Tom Stanley, desperate to get beef on the bone back on their eating menus – and to punish us for banning it. In fact, Gareth was let down by Welsh Office officials. They should have spotted that, when the bill was changed, the Lords should have been informed by an arranged written answer. Sat for hours in the Lords Library ‘silent’ room’ – the only noises are the occasional snores and farts from sleeping peers. Reading Antonia Fraser’s excellent The Gunpowder Plot, where her personal fascination with the Catholics at the time interests me also. I sat with my painful foot on the fireplace rest, gazing at the rows of library books that are never taken out – Earldom of Norfolk, Shrewsbury Peerage, Men at the Bar in 1885 (no women then!). Through the gothic windows are the Thames and the setting sun shining on the pretty, ancient part of St Thomas’ Hospital. Read and dozed as it turned dark. Comfortable way to grow old, as Big Ben chimed away the hours. This must be what the hereditary peers most resent is being taken away from them – the ‘best club in the world’. Today, they filled the Chamber and filibustered as we inched our way forward on the reform bill – taking three days already to cover the first two clauses. Had supper downstairs in the utilitarian Home Room. Interesting that it has evolved that the Labour peers usually eat together at the long table there, whereas the Tories eat at the long table in the more elegant Barry Room – with its more expensive and more elaborate food. Here in the Home Room it is usually sausage and mash or chicken. The upstairs peers dining room still has a mixed clientele, with mainly older members sitting together, regardless of party affiliations. Spoke to colleagues critical of Ken Livingstone. Just interested in self-publicity. I said I would rather not have the choice, say, between Livingstone and Jeffrey Archer (who I like) as London Mayor – both unsuitable. But if forced to choose between them, I would be tempted to go for Archer  – more amusing, more talented, more transparent and less ­hypocritical than Livingstone. No votes and home to country by 11.

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Friday 30 April 1999 Fabulous day. Brilliant sunshine and blue skies, spring warmth but not too hot. Birds singing, flowers and leaves springing forth. Lovely dusk in the conservatory. Looking forward to the Newmarket 2000 Guineas tomorrow.

Saturday 1 May 1999 Anniversary of the great election victory. Wonderful weather. Sarah drove me to Newmarket for the 2000 Guineas. Fabulous lunch in the tent of the sponsor. Sunny Marlborough there, beaming as ever. When Sarah asked him how Rosie was, he queried, vaguely, ‘Rosie?’ ‘Your sister’, Andrew Parker Bowles gently reminded him. But he is always friendly. Gossip journalist Nigel Dempster there, looking more and more rodent-like, so steered clear of him. Remarkable moment in the Tote queue when an Arab ahead of me picked up winnings of £1,500 – and tipped the Tote lady a £50 note, which she hid under the counter. Not sure that is within the Tote rules. Was a terrific day’s racing. On the July course while they build the new stand on the main course. Don’t know why they bother. The July is so much prettier and people always look happier there. Sarah, sometimes a reluctant racer, admitted she enjoyed it. Suffolk looked fabulous in the sun, richly flourishing and the rape colourful yellow, even though we know it is a useless crop. Home by six. Later watched a good Clint Eastwood western, The Unforgiven, about an ageing gunfighter on his last bounty mission. I identified it with my mission in MAFF, especially when he fell off his horse.

Sunday 2 May 1999 Again glorious weather. Off to mass. Collection for the recruitment of new priests. Father Flanagan thanked us, but said, ‘It does little good. We have been collecting for ten years and haven’t recruited any new priests here.’ He commented it would be more effective if the Church authorities changed the rules and ‘made celibacy optional. After all, if a priest falls in love with a parishioner, he is thrown out – and is replaced by one of the 200 Anglican priests who have joined us, many of them married.’ The congregation looked both shocked and pleased, mainly agreeing with him – as I strongly do.

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He concluded, ‘If I am not here next Sunday, you will know why.’ Don’t think they would dare. Father F is a gem. Long walk with Honey towards Ruscombe. And disaster. My right ankle twisted in a horse’s hoof hole. I stumbled and tore all the ligaments again, still recovering from falling downstairs last week. The pain was excruciating. I had to hobble back over a mile, further hurting the bad foot. Furious with myself. Watched a farmer plough up his outer field of flourishing wheat, to create his set-aside payment. Nonsense system. Serbian war is still staggering on. More NATO bombing but little sign they will give in. Whole thing is a nightmare, with the Tory Right behaving as barmily as our Left did 15 years ago. But at present the Tories offer no alternative to us; and trying to become like us won’t even provide an alternative. On my walk, met a local air stewardess with BA. She told me that the turbulence recently affecting the flight with Blair’s daughter on board was even worse than reported. Blair had asked that she should not be upgraded, knowing the media would just attack that as ‘privilege’ (the only country in the world that suffers this kind of envy nonsense), so she went to economy class. She was then upgraded by stewards because she was a single young girl sitting next to a man. When the plane plunged, a heavy metal trolley flew into the empty economy seat where she would have been sitting. ‘Would probably have killed her,’ she said.

Monday 3 May 1999 Now into my third year in the government. Two years since I walked into the old scruffy MAFF building to see Jack and the others to allocate our duties. Glad I have done it. Being a minister is different, though it came five or seven years too late for antique me. Would have enjoyed it more when younger, hungrier and fitter. And preferably somewhere else other than poor MAFF. Still, I wouldn’t have been without it.

Tuesday 4 May 1999 Straight to the Savoy Grill for an excellent lunch with Chris Bell of Ladbrokes and Tom Kelly of the Bookies Association. They think the BHB is very split and may fall apart – obviously a side attack on new chairman Peter Savill. Chris, especially, is bright and open-minded.

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My PQ on organic farming went well because I had good news. Number of organic farmers rocketing, up from 500 last year to 3000 this, The grants will run out after a couple of months. Back to MAFF for the meeting I had asked for on our department budget, where we are going bust. Hobbled to Lords for meeting of the Racing and Bloodstock Committee. Discussed the future of the Horse, and they were generally supportive of what I had done setting up the new British Horse Industry Confederation. Afterwards retreated to the Lords bar to sit with Lawson Soulsby. He said the vets are now trying to delay dog quarantine reform by complaining it will result in a huge epidemic of tapeworms. The epidemic of vets from which we suffer is much worse. Supper with Sarah in the Barry Room, and joined tables with David and Susie Sainsbury, he having just finished a dinner debate. He is enjoying being a minister – ‘It is fascinating.’ Says the ministers at DTI are all ‘sole traders’, with little collectivity – so MAFF isn’t alone. We shared the bill, on my insistence. He may be worth £4 billion and the richest man in England but that is no reason he should take everyone to supper. Certainly he and Susie have not changed an inch since I first knew them in Ladbroke Square – before he inherited the money. Friendly as ever. They were quite funny on their home in Turville, near Henley, which is a very social area, full of radical chic. They refuse to play any part and admit to being ‘very anti-social’.

Wednesday 5 May 1999 Off early to Windsor to give speech to a conference on school milk, where I am rightly welcomed as a supporter – though haven’t achieved much, due to the bureaucratic obstruction of officials in Health and Education. My secretary, Virginia, told me in the car that officials ignore all her efforts to fix a meeting of ministers: Tessa Jowell, myself and Charles Clarke. PR Rachel also told me that MAFF officials have refused my instruction to issue a press release on the success of the new organic farm scheme. Failure ever to be positive is the main reason why seven Whitehall Information heads have recently been sacked, including one at MAFF. But they will never learn. David Sainsbury last night told me his media division in DTI is pretty awful, ‘but not as bad as what I hear of yours at MAFF’. At times this past two weeks I have really enjoyed the work, especially in the Lords.

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Thursday 6 May 1999 Off to the Lister Hospital to have my foot X-rayed. I was dressed and just leaving when the nurse came to me and said, ‘You had better stay. It is a very nasty break.’ The consultant showed me a dreadful X-ray, with a crack from the base of my little toe right across half of my foot. No wonder it hurt. Little we can do except rest it. Delayed by traffic jams and having to hobble down St James’s for a delightful lunch at Brooks’ Club with Lucius Falkland. Others were Alan Bell, the director of the London Library, and Dr Jowett, a Commons Clerk. The latter particularly interesting. Almost made me wish I had been a Clerk – always thinking I should have done other things, a QC, or stayed at LSE etc. He was a PhD student at LSE in political theory under right-wing Ken Minogue and is still writing on eighteenth-century philosophy, for which being a Clerk gives a lot of free time in the recesses. He regretted the decline of the Commons and of Westminster politics in general. When he joined, Westminster was clearly the best political centre in the world. Now: ‘very tatty’. The ‘quality of politicians going downhill’ because ‘Nobody of quality, except a masochist, would put up with the poor pay and the dreadful treatment by the media.’ Having driven out the good and the colourful politicians through sustained denigration, the media will then complain of the mediocre quality, for which they are partly responsible. A lively man. Told them some of my early Oxford stories. In 1958 I went in for a ­fellowship at Jesus College and was in the final two candidates. Was dined at High Table and, afterwards in the senior common room, the three ­remaining fellows, well into the claret, asked me their key question: ‘Is there any danger of your getting married?’ I conceded there might be such a danger – and that put the kibosh on it. They were – rightly as it turned out – worried that Oxford collegiate life might be destroyed by all the dons getting married and eating at home with their wives and family rather than at High Table. When I was similarly short-listed at Keble College, I think in 1960, I again went to High Table to be looked over. In the senior common room afterwards it dragged on late; the fellows drifted away, until I was left with just one, I think named Davidge, the steward. He had put on his Oxford cox’s rowing cap after dinner and took to the SCR a bottle of fine old port which he kept to himself, and steadily drank through, having hit the claret hard earlier. It was nearly one when I parted from him. Unable to keep up the pace on the port, declining his last few offers, I knew I had had it again. At neither College was there any discussion of my academic interests.

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Bell knew the former Cabinet Secretary Burke Trend, when the latter was rector at my old Lincoln College. So I told him how Burke phoned me one Thursday in 1978 at No. 10, shortly after he had taken over at Lincoln. He wanted to see me ‘urgently’, preferably that evening. I was too busy then. But I went down to Lincoln to stay at his residence the next night. The following morning he knocked on my bedroom door at seven with a tray of eggs, toast and coffee he had prepared. He plunged in straight away. ‘Should I give up?’ He had on Wednesday chaired his first meeting of the Lincoln senior common room. ‘A gentle introduction. Only one item on the agenda: whether the SCR furniture should be repaired or replaced?’ Two and a half hours later, I felt we had discussed it enough, so I intervened and said, ‘Well, we have all had our say, perhaps we should close now.’ ‘No we haven’t,’ said a prissy language don, and on they went. Burke recalled that as Cabinet Secretary he used to hold a meeting every Thursday that dealt with the whole government’s agenda for the United Kingdom – and it never took more than an hour. I told him to hang on, humour them, ignore the pettiness and focus on the Oxford positive things that matter, which really concern the education of the Lincoln students. He and his wonderful wife then did that and became hugely popular with the students. But a few of the fellows never really took to his efficient ways and when I attended his farewell dinner, this small group of the SCR deliberately absented themselves. This was not typical of Lincoln, normally a warm and collegiate college. But sometimes a few elevate pettiness to a high art. As has been commented, the reason ­academic disputes are so vicious and petty is because usually the stakes are so low. Maggie picked me up and we were at Fox’s Walk by 4.30 pm, ducking the big vote tonight on Kosovo. Tomorrow I have Badminton. Must remember the name of the duke who runs it – Beaufort, and not call him Buccleugh, as I previously did.

Friday 7 May 1999 To Badminton on Beaufort’s estate. Grotty weather, with an absolute downpour in mid-afternoon flooding everything. Toured the course in a huge four-wheeler. Lunch in the directors tent, sitting beside Michael Clayton while Andrew Higgins looked after Sarah warmly. Went to the hunt kennels beside the great house to see the hounds. Wonderful sight; 200 of them. They automatically split into dogs and bitches when they come in. Can do a hundred miles in a day. Friendly to humans.

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Great athletes. The hunt here is probably the biggest in England. Met the master and several staff as we sheltered in the stables from the pelting rain. This is a part of real old England. The Queen arrived to stay at teatime. We got out just before that and crawled back up the M4 in the wet rush hour. Another huge red box waiting for me. Sarah’s son, George, arrived after supper – in which my big back tooth broke, on the right side to match my broken left foot. I am falling apart rapidly. My dreadful teeth reflect working-class childhood cuisine. In my Northants village, many of the lads had all their teeth extracted as a 21st birthday present – no more aches. The village football changing room, on afternoons with a game on, had cups of water there to put the young players’ false teeth sets in.

Saturday 8 May 1999 To Goodwood. Took the wrong turn onto the M3, missed the turn off to the M25, went onto the A3, took the wrong turn off at Guildford heading back into town, detoured through Surrey, then back onto the A3, and finally got to Goodwood half-an-hour late for lunch, having travelled over a hundred miles instead of only 52 miles. No more evidence needed of clinical mental deterioration. All because I was not mentally concentrating but thinking of other MAFF worries. Lunch was very good. Chatted with the course owner, the Duke of Richmond, who is looking forward to my ministerial visit there in September (won’t be there of course). His son, Charles March, married to William Astor’s beautiful sister, came over to chat, deep into turning Goodwood again into a successful racing track – for classic cars. Lots of horse-racing friends there. Rory Bremner is a keen racegoer and we chatted. He has been very hurt by hostile and untrue coverage of his private life. I recalled that he once hit 72 off our Parliamentary cricket team, including some fours off my wayward leg breaks. Stayed till the end and drove back through the lovely Surrey Hills. Dramatic views of the Downs and to Chichester and the sea. The roads awful. But at least I took the right route back.

Sunday 9 May 1999 Started James Ellroy, The Big Nowhere. The devolution and local elections went as expected. Labour was biggest in Scotland and Wales, but no overall control.

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Monday 10 May 1999 Grey threatening morning. To London for progress meeting on quarantine in the video room. Jeff Rooker opened, saying, ‘I am going to take this really seriously now,’ which is a good sign, since he always gets some movement out of officials. But the pilot testing doesn’t get going till next year and they will spend a whole year on it before launching the final reform in 2001. Seems a long way away for Honey going to France, but hope her anticipated daughter will be here in time for it. I warned them that I would not defend such an outrageous delay in the Lords. Quite a brief meeting on our Lords reform strategy in Margaret Jay’s room. Can do nothing until we see how tomorrow’s vote on the Weatherill compromise goes. Had Rob Hughes in for a drink, new boss of the racing Levy Board and previously a chief executive with a big Labour local authority. Excellent man. Met Clive Hollick at the peers’ entrance and we stood gossiping. It is really quite a social contact point as people streamed in and out. The Parker Bowles came in and Rose gave me a lovely kiss. Then my first girlfriend from 49 years ago, Jill Booty, arrived with husband Robin and she gave me an even bigger one. We could have stood there all night being embraced – better entertainment than anything on offer in Mayfair or Soho. Instead I retired for a quiet supper alone in the Home Room. Chatted with Hugh Cavendish, who has bought Cartmel Racecourse – a bit like Towcester, lovely country course. He misses the politics in the Lords since ceasing to be a minister, but said he could ‘not bear the loneliness of it, going home every night to an empty London flat and my red boxes, while the family were in the North’. We agreed that modern ministers have much less power than the public believes. ‘I had little power to achieve anything,’ he said. ‘I often agreed with the suggestions or criticisms made by backbenchers in the Chamber, but I knew I could do nothing about it. Could not go back to the Department and tell them to change things, because they would just ignore it.’ Quite right. Told him that, ‘When I am in, I want to be out. And when I am out, I want to be in.’ That will be tested again this summer.

Tuesday 11 May 1999 Fine morning. Telephoned George Howarth at the Home Office at midday to reassure him that our bid for the Horse to come to MAFF was no threat to him or the Home Office, since we would leave them with all the horserace betting they now have.

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Lunch at the Kennel Club in Mayfair. Never previously aware of it. Boring outside, typical 1950s utility architecture. But comfortable inside – excellent dog library with a lot on terriers. I explained how they could better exercise influence for the quarter-million dogs they register and their owners. They are wary on quarantine reform because they don’t want disease brought in by the hordes of foreign dogs they fear will flood across our shores and into their shows. I suggest that they get involved in helping us to police it. A strange world for me but I enjoyed it. Back to MAFF for a briefing on Thursday’s PQ on the Horse industry. Good senior official, Kate Timms, attended. Much improved atmosphere and delighted she is leading MAFF to take a much more positive view. We plan how to try to stop Tony Banks (‘The Mouth’) getting the Horse under his clammy control. He will use it for a few headlines, a few free tickets to the races, and do nothing to develop a strategy for sport or the Horse. Over to the Lords to sit in the Chamber for the Weatherill amendment on Lords reform, the compromise on keeping a few score elected hereditaries. It is a great historical moment, key to getting Lords reform through, and also the measure that has split the Tories and led the foolish Hague to sack the powerful Cranborne as Lords leader. Packed Chamber and exciting atmosphere, though I was able to squeeze onto the front bench. Jack Weatherill was clear and authoritative on the case for keeping some hereditaries as a guarantee that we will subsequently move to the final stage of reform. Derry Irvine was punchy, making it clear that we would agree the compromise only if there was no filibustering nonsense from the Tories – though in fact their front bench has no control over their wild ones. Henry Carnarvon made a sensible speech setting out the history of Lords reform, in which it emerged that this Weatherill cross-bench amendment was in fact Cranborne’s (in a glossy cross-bench packaging), so it was really a clever Tory device, directly contrary to the public Tory policy on this. Cranborne spoke well, carrying a lot of support on the Tory benches, clearly enjoying his revenge on Hague, who he will see as a mere temporary irritation compared to the permanent political establishment of his Cecils. Had a gossip with Tessa Blackstone. She is being worked very hard at Education, back in the office for all the Whit recess, but finds it satisfactory because she is actually changing and achieving things. The vote came earlier than expected, as the steam had gone out of the Tory hereditary rebellion. There was a massive 350–32 majority for Weatherill, with the dithering Lib Dems characteristically abstaining. This infuriated Margaret Jay, who talked to Jonathan Powell in No. 10 and they agreed, she later told me, ‘That screws the Liberals for a big list of September life peers.’

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Read in the library till the start of an Arsenal/Leeds match and then went in to watch the first half of that in Denis Carter’s room. Very exciting – but Leeds snatched a 1–0 victory at the end and my £50 bet on Arsenal for the league title went down the chute. Going for a vote, I saw Lucius Falkland and told him that his Liberal colleagues’ abstention had been damaging to their Party relations with ­ Labour – and unhelpful to able Liberal hereditaries like him, who deserve to come back in on life peer lists. He was upset because his leader, Bill Rodgers, had told them that any abstention was acceptable to Labour (it would have been to me, since the majority was so huge, but MJ is much tougher and wants them more obedient). We had a string of divisions, which we won, making good progress on the bill. Very funny at the end. Suddenly, ten amendments were ‘not moved’, as the Tories went home. So the mover was not yet present for his final amendment. Tory leader, Tom Strathclyde, had to take it without briefing, and Margaret Jay, not having expected to get that far, didn’t have briefing either, so it all went through on the hoof. Nice atmosphere.

Wednesday 12 May 1999 Went in to ministers meeting. Nick wasn’t there, so Jeff, in sparkling form, chaired a brief meeting. I took the opportunity to talk to Liz Lloyd from No.  10 about the Horse situation and warned her it would not be popular with the Horse industry if it went to Banks at Sport. In the evening it was Raine Spencer’s 70th birthday party. Dinner beforehand in a huge house in the Boltons. Fourteen guests, I knew none except Sarah, but interesting and lively. There was a young Italian countess I never spoke to, with an impressive nose, sitting on the host’s right and, on her left, Leonard Sainer’s widow, spread around with a huge crinoline which made it difficult for anyone to get near her. It all went with a zing. Raine’s son William, Earl of Dartmouth, sat opposite and shouted across the table to me. Told me he had made a brilliant speech the day before on Lords reform  – ‘clear and powerful’. He seemed a bit odd. He suddenly jumped up and fled, remembering he had to be in the receiving line at the Ritz with Raine. It was as if she had stretched out her strong arm from Mayfair to Kensington and hauled him in. Outside he commandeered the car and chauffeur of another guest and sped away. We all moved to the Ritz, where there was a huge receiving line, taking half-an-hour to reach Raine, receiving regally, and the line itself became a social occasion, people clustering and gossiping in it. Raine was radiant

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in dark fluffy pink. Her mother, the popular novelist Barbara Cartland, sat hunched and heavily powdered on a sofa nearby. When we finally fought our way into the ballroom/restaurant there was a nice 1950s band playing all our kind of tunes, with at least 300 people packed around it. Sarah embraced her delightful old friend, Amyn Aga Khan, and then we danced, slowly with my broken foot. The Ritz ballroom did look lovely, very gilt elegant. I was reassured to look around and realise I was probably under the average age present. Chatted with Nigel Lawson and his wife Therese. The Foreign Office Fretwells were with them and we discussed dog quarantine, where she has been an effective campaigner. She said, categorically, ‘MAFF officials are the worst in the world.’ He, an ex-ambassador to Paris, said, ‘It is a disgrace how they openly ignore ministers. In the Foreign Office, the permanent secretary would be sacked.’ Nigel acutely said: ‘You must understand that Whitehall is a string of departmental villages. Officials are the village residents. Ministers are just tourists passing through. The only difference among them is that some villages welcome the tourists and some are hostile to them. The Treasury welcomes them. MAFF is notoriously hostile.’ Next, we moved on to the Channon’s lovely house on Chelsea Embankment. Ingrid was warm and told me that the ‘horseys’ at Badminton were very pleased with my support. And I intriguingly talk to the Mail owner, Jonathan Harmsworth, who Sarah had known as a small boy. He and I got on well and I promised to take him to tea at the Lords and arrange his maiden speech, which might be on internet law, a critical subject. It was a colourful and enjoyable evening, though of course they were all Sarah’s friends and not from my limited background. Raine certainly knows how to put on the style. Those who think of her as just social fluff are wrong. She is an impressive and intellectually substantial lady.

Thursday 13 May 1999 A bit groggy in the ministerial meeting with Jeff and Elliot Morley in Jeff ’s room. Mainly about TB and badgers for my Monday PQ. Jeff says it is the most complicated issue with which he has dealt, worse than GMs. But he is clearly right on top of it, mastering all the detail. Elliot told me that a leading farmer in his constituency had met Packer at a farming dinner last year. He asked Packer what it was like adjusting to new ministers? ‘Ministers make no difference,’ he said. ‘I run the department.’

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The front-bench ministers’ meeting was amiable and calm. Talk of how the Tory opposition to our Lords reform is collapsing because they are so divided. But still an all-nighter next Monday. On Serbia, John Gilbert was again embarrassingly gung-ho: ‘For two days we have had good bombing weather and we have really blitzed them.’ He claimed that 99 per cent of our bombs had hit the target, which seemed a little optimistic, given all military experience to the contrary. I spotted in my Lords diary that I have a string of questions ahead and two big debates – on vitamins and the dreaded one on genetically modifieds – on the eve of holiday. This always depresses me in advance, though I usually enjoy them at the time. Retired to the library to do homework for today’s PQ on the Horse. It went well. Nice was that I was able to announce that we are going to improve rights of way for horses and bridleways, so it had some meat in it. My main thrust was that MAFF should be the Horse ministry. Dear Jean Trumpington amusingly asked me why I at MAFF was answering the question, when MAFF did not yet have control of it? I replied that the same thought crossed my mind every time I came to the dispatch box for any question. The point is that I love the Lords Chamber stuff; but am bored by the ministry side and get no satisfaction working with Nick. He incidentally has a bad back; he asked me to take on his big meat speech tomorrow, but I declined, as did Jeff and Elliot. He must learn that either he runs it as a collegiate team, and then we all pitch in to help; or he runs it selfishly and isolated, as at present, in which case he must carry his own bags. Then down to the Home Room for supper with Denis Carter and Liz Symons. Denis was moving when telling us of the difficulties with his two children, both severely disabled, and how unfeeling was their Catholic priest, refusing to give Teresa communion because she wouldn’t have any more children. I told him some Father Flanagan stories to cheer him up. The Tory hereditaries went droning on all evening in Committee on the Lords Reform, deliberately filibustering as revenge for our evicting them. I went to the library and read some Ellroy. Then dozed a while in the empty silent room, just the chugging noise of river steamers and Big Ben chiming away the quarter hours. Other colleagues had drinks in MJ’s room. I prefer being on my own reading, not really being an alcoholic barfly. We finally broke in the Lords at half past midnight, no votes.

Friday 14 May 1999 Rose slowly and blearily. Cheered up by telephone call from Michael Clayton of the British Equine Federation saying all the horse people very

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pleased by my statement on the Horse industry yesterday in the Lords. At last achieving something. Curious – am enjoying the job much more, just as I am on the eve of leaving it. Wonderful phone call to former Sunday Times editor Harry Evans in New  York, effervescent as ever, now an American citizen, still talking of giving up the rat race and leading a more reflective life, but never will. He will be walking dynamite and a warm friend to the end.

Saturday 15 May 1999 Delightful weekend, to Devon and back for the Swimbridge Jack Russell show. But first to lunch with the Wiltons locally. Sarah knew the other guests, but I didn’t. I chatted in the garden with John, who has been a very social Earl in the past, but has gone through a lot of money, learned wisdom and has always been quite intellectual in a fastidious way. He figures in the Lees-Milne diaries, mixing then with that rather effete crowd. He had also known Bloomsberry Partridge, liked her and her husband, and had read all her diaries. He has gentle but good judgements on people. Now prefers ‘eating simply in my little kitchen to the grand dinners I used to enjoy in Wiltshire’. Quite right. Sat next to Diana at lunch. She has had a hard time of late. Rotten cancer she seems to have subdued. She is sharp and quite acerbic in her comments – thinks Blair ‘talks rubbish and never delivers’. But intelligent and reads seriously, as does John, which is not true of many of that social crowd. They like our village, Shurlock Row, while carefully avoiding to get to know anybody. Afterwards Sarah drove us to Dorset to stay with her younger stepmother Diana in her pretty thatched stone cottage at Hinton St Mary near Shaftesbury. I was interested, partly because we are always thinking of going to live in ‘real’ country, not the semi-suburbia of East Berkshire, and partly because I had read so much about Dorset weekends in Partridge. Diana loves it down there. It is real country, with long views, no road or air noise, and birds the biggest sound. So Sarah slept unusually well. The cottage all stone flag floors and a big open fire.

Sunday 16 May 1999 Great terrier day. I took Honey for a walk around the village – she could clearly scent foxes everywhere. Then drove to the Jack Russell anniversary show up near Barnstaple, in a field with lots of caravans and side-shows. Got there just as Ann Mallalieu was making her opening speech – ‘And here

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comes Bernard Donoughue with what may or may not be a Jack Russell.’ (Honey is of dubious descent.) We toured around chatting to nice and straight country people, who make Westminster seem like a brothel. Excitedly put Honey in the terrier racing. First time she simply didn’t run with the others after the lure, just popped out of the cage, spotted me and came over to give me a lick. But I took her back and stood her beside the traps to race again. She was soon in the lead and was pronounced a winner, qualifying for the final. However, she didn’t get into that due to some confusion by the organisers. Sarah was disappointed, but I didn’t mind, thinking that if a minister’s dog won first time out, especially one looking suspiciously like a whippet, the Daily Mail was bound to denounce it as ‘political sleaze’. Waited hours for Honey to get her class for the terrier show – for ‘other terriers’, not any of the previous smart lot. She got a rosette for third. When I pinned it to her collar, she looked very proud. It was all delightful, slightly shambolic, but jolly, and everyone happy.

Monday 17 May 1999 Worked all the grey morning on the Badger PQ, with Honey sitting on my shoulder like a cat while I went through the files. Arrived at the Lords just before Questions. It went fairly well, though I was too prolix and no jokes – a sign I was not comfortable with the subject. Wanted to say that more humans catch TB on airplanes than from cattle, but didn’t get the chance. Afterwards read a little Ellroy in the library and then tea with Billy Dudley, who hadn’t been at Raine’s Bash last week and finds her ‘too much’. Talked to Jim Callaghan in the library. He thinks the Balkans war ‘a disaster’, which is damaging NATO’s credibility. He had written to George Robertson at the beginning to warn him not to get us involved. ‘What worries me about Blair is all this moralising. It gets us into this mess. I made sure this didn’t happen over Cyprus. No way I was going to be dragged into fighting the Serbs. The same with Harold over Vietnam.’ Shrewd Jim. And agree with him on Blair’s dangerous moralising. He said that he felt, ‘Alastair Campbell is one of us. Blair isn’t.’ I commented on the ‘rootlessness’ of some of New Labour – like the SDP 16 years ago. Told him about Claus Moser at a Camden Town dinner party then commenting how most of his friends had ‘joined the bus to the future (the SDP) except Bernard, who I used to think had good political judgement.’ Jim said Claus (now happily back in the Labour Party) ‘knew when to change buses’. He also described the present travails over Lords reform as ‘just a game, just a children’s game’.

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Excellent supper in the Home Room with Simon Haskell and Liz Symons. Latter said press treatment of politicians made her think ‘It is not worth being in public life. If I had to put up with what you have had to put up with, I would give up.’ I soon shall. Not for that reason, but losing the press will be one of the blessings. Chatted in the Pugin Room with Stuart Bell. Told me he met Blair on a train from the North-East, where they both have constituencies. Blair said, ‘I never understand your politics in the North-East’ – as if he had not himself been an MP there for 16 years. He is still entirely Islington. The Tory rebellion came at 11.30 pm when they moved the adjournment of the House, which effectively would kill off several hours of business and need an extra day to finish. Our side was furious since the Tories had officially promised not to hinder the passing of the bill in return for us supporting the Weatherill amendment. We did that and now they break their word. ‘Only public school boys behave like that,’ said one of ours behind me. ‘Trade unionists never would.’ The Tories looked a shambles. They had bussed in hereditaries to vote for this, but, at the end, began to lose their nerve and tried not to win by keeping some of their troops out of the division lobby. But they were inefficient in that and just won by nine. Very heated atmosphere and lots of recriminations shouted across the chamber. This could become very undignified, as our back-benchers now want to drop the Weatherill amendment compromise and throw all the hereditaries out, using the Parliament Act. We must resist that, but no harm in frightening the Tories with it. Ninety hereditaries are hoping to come back in as life peers and won’t want that privilege jeopardised. I predict much quieter behaviour from them henceforth.

Tuesday 18 May 1999 Into MAFF for an excellent meeting with lovely Tessa Jowell and equally impressive Charles Clarke on school milk. My campaign to get free milk for very poor kids looks doomed by the EU decision to cut the funds for it. But we still press ahead and decide to try instead to improve schools’ relations with the farming community. Over to the Lords for lunch with my old French friend Jacques Pomonti, recently an adviser to President Mitterand. He now has a young Spanish girlfriend aged about 27, over 30 years younger than him. He described me, critically, as ‘Very analytical: you always think carefully before moving.’ Claimed he is much more rash and romantic.

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I took him into PQs, which were lively, with a packed House. Afterwards, sharp exchanges about last night’s misbehaviour by the Tories. Their leader, Strathclyde, looked very sheepish when our chief whip Carter stated that he had received ‘absolute guarantees’ through the ‘usual channels’ that there would be no delay. These promises had been betrayed. Strathclyde replied by begging us to get back to the previous ‘civilised arrangements’ – which of course they had broken only last night. Our back-bench troops are itching to ditch the Weatherill compromise and go straight for using the Parliament Act to boot them all out. I don’t support that. Met George Jones, another loyal old friend of 40 years, for tea. Gossiped about LSE and the possibility of my lecturing there when I leave MAFF. Am rebuilding some old bridges. The old bridges are the best bridges. Invited over to Pratt’s Club in St James’s for drinks. Never been there before. Very Dickensian, down a dark staircase into two cellar rooms, one for drinks and one for supper. Andrew Devonshire greeted me – and ­immediately invited me join the club. Said he still wished I was the chairman of the BHB, succeeding his son Stoker. Andrew said, ‘Now I am 79, what I like doing best is sitting in the hall of Brooks’ and watching the people come and go.’ Chatted with Alastair Goodlad, ex-Commons Tory chief whip. Told me he thought Tory leader, Strathclyde, couldn’t control his Lords troops – with no whips and no carrots, as the recalcitrants have all they want in the Lords and cannot have anything taken from them. Lots of the Pratt’s members there looked to me a bit ‘splendid chap’ – as my dear old friend, Gerry Fowler, used to call the chaps in tweeds and cavalry twills when we were students together at Oxford 40 years ago. Still, I have come to appreciate their lack of viciousness over the years, after mixing with Hampstead and Islington media types. I will be happy to join. Back to MAFF for drinks with Sarah, Graham Greene and the fine painter Allen Jones and his delightful wife, Deirdre. I sat him on the sofa beneath his own huge jazz singer painting on my office wall. He said he was surprised by how good it looked. I shall miss this room when I go – not that I have spent much time in it. It is light and elegant and Sarah’s furnishings are superb. We walked together across to the Lords and dined in the Barry Room. We also had Tessa Blackstone. She remarked how intolerable it is for women still to be excluded from some clubs. Sarah and Deirdre Jones didn’t agree at all. They felt that if men want to club together and behave like silly boys, then that was up to them.

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Wednesday 19 May 1999 In for a rare weekly ministerial meeting. We have a serious budgetary crisis. Have had to make extra cuts of millions. Naughtily, Nick has decided that virtually all the cuts are in Elliot’s area, especially fishing, so Elliot will get the flak and Nick is in the clear. Nick will choose Friday to announce them when nobody is around and all the attention is on Jack’s big ­announcement of supporting genetically modified production with proper controls. Lunch at Lords. Sat with Geoffrey Howe, who had seen the earlier nasty piece in the Mail attacking me. ‘An experience we have all had,’ he said. Told me he listens to the Archers to keep up with Agriculture and, ‘It is the last part of the BBC which is fair.’ I have never heard the Archers, which may be why I am not too well informed about farming.

Thursday 20 May 1999 Dashed late to the weekly ministerial progress meeting in Jeff ’s room. Enjoy these meetings. Very good humoured. Jeff in great form. Told me that he had intended to resign by now. But the GM crisis has rescued him. He loves handling it. And now the prospect of the Food Standards Agency bill in June will also engage him, so he is happy till the autumn. But he still has nothing to do with Nick Brown. ‘I never hear a word from Nick and operate completely separately from him.’ In fact there are two departments in MAFF. There is Nick at the top supported by his top layer of officials. Then there is Jeff as minister of state, with Elliot and me working closely with him, and our three private offices servicing us. But, as my private secretaries have said, they have little to do with Nick’s office and rarely know what is going on. On genetic modification, Jeff has a big announcement tomorrow. It is masterminded by Jack in the Cabinet Office and No. 10. It will be very positive about GMs, stressing that no risk has ever been proved and having the support of the chief scientific and health officers. In fact, the press is already full of leaks on this, intended to be damaging to Jack, suggesting that he is manipulating the evidence in favour of GMs. Jeff thinks that the leaker is Michael Meacher, always out to tell the press that he is the lone Green and anti-GM minister in the government. We discussed a recent fierce memo from Packer to us ministers saying that the criticism of GMs is nonsense and that ‘some ministers have been unhelpful, notably in DETR’. (Meacher!) Don’t disagree with some of it, but hair-raising stuff. He describes Jack’s Cabinet

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Committee, which oversees these matters, as ‘incoherent’, with ‘a lack of clarity’, and attacked DTI, the lead department, as ‘invisible’. All very constructive! Had to tea Graham Blakeney, our sacked head of information. I ­supported that move but have to say I felt sorry for him. It is no joke to be unemployed at 50 – I found it difficult when 40. Hasn’t started looking for another job yet. And, to be fair to him, it has been a fairly impossible job trying to do the PR for MAFF over the past six years. I hope he finds ­ something and offered to help. He did say that the department had refused to supply him with the resources he needed and that the Permanent Secretary ‘did not understand the need to be proactive in media handling’.

Friday 21 May 1999 Sarah drove me to Twyford station for the train to Exeter and then I went straight by car to the Devon County Show. Lunch in the president’s tent. Sat with nice county people and left before the speeches to do some more visits. As always, enjoyed the specialist foods best – bought some pasties and ate an ice cream. In the train back to Reading, Virginia, my private secretary revealed how surprised she had been to find the heavy workload in private office. She said that elsewhere in the department she had had only three hours work a day – and that lots of others do even less. Nobody has applied for the prestigious private secretary’s job in Jeff Rooker’s private office: good promotion prospects, but it means serious hard work. Ten per cent of the staff do three-quarters of the work. We also discussed obesity. One secretary is enormously fat and claims to do what she can to control it. But when she arrives at Westminster tube station, she takes the bus to MAFF, which is only one stop, or a seven-minute 300–400 yards walk away. Jeff goes to the gym early most mornings.

Saturday 22 May 1999 Lunched on the pasties I brought from the Devon Show. Watched England’s cricketers massacred by South Africa at the Oval. Our batsmen collapsed and barely made three figures.

Sunday 23 May 1998 Late for mass. Father Flanagan told us that, without the support and guidance of our faith, some of us would be in jail – and him for certain.

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Sunday Times had piece saying Kevin and Ian Maxwell are about to float their Bermuda-based tele company to make them multimillionaires. Their two sisters have just revealed they have made $100 million in America. Shows that genes matter, both in making and losing money.

Monday 24 May 1999 To Dorneywood to make my first visit as a new Trustee. Tour of the house and grounds. Quite modest, certainly not a great house, six beds, five baths, just a comfy country home. Ordinary paintings, usually ‘School of Guardi’ etc. Officially assigned to Gordon Brown as Chancellor but he never uses it and John Prescott has it for average of one weekend a month – sometimes private, sometimes for a ministerial away day. Private use costs £200–500 a weekend, since the minister pays for the staff food as well. Pretty position and grounds, close to M40 and London, but gardens a bit dull. The three gardeners are employed by the National Trust and I suspect lack incentive since usually nobody there to appreciate it. Present-day ministers are not the millionaires who were in the Cabinet when it was given to Churchill in 1954 by a bachelor businessman. On the way back, Maggie told me that Nick had upset his driver over the Cup Final. Jack, as customary, gave his second ticket to his driver; but Nick gave it to his Dutch guest, so the driver refused to drive them. Nick also took my tickets for the Chelsea flower show. So, as minister for horticulture, I did not attend the prime horticulture show. Don’t weep too many tears as Chelsea is not my scene.

Tuesday 25 May 1999 Forgotten I had the boring Misc 4 Cabinet committee on the fanciful Millennium Bug and had to be phoned by Margaret Beckett to remind me. Arriving late, I did a presentation on a good MAFF paper. Close shave. Went from the committee to the Commons tearoom with George Howarth from the Home Office to discuss racing. Told him my idea: that the Tote should be sold to the BHB, the racing governing body, which would lease it to the highest bidder to run it, as with the lottery. The price for the franchise would be its contribution to racing.

Wednesday 26 May 1999 Off to Melton Mowbray to visit the famous pie shop and then to a big stilton cheese producer in Leicestershire. Pleasant day, nice people, responsible local media.

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Tonight was the big match between Man United and Bayern Munich for the European Champions Cup. Sarah realised too late that I had deliberately not arranged any social event this evening so I could watch the match.

Thursday 27 May 1999 I arrived at 8.30 am for the Economic Affairs Cabinet Committee at the Cabinet Office. Up in the lift with Gordon Brown. A light agenda – post-16 education and small businesses. As usual these days, the Economic Affairs Committee never covers the economy – Gordon always make sure of that. But the attendance was heavy. Brown in the chair, plus Blunkett and Byers presenting their papers, Prescott, Cunningham, Beckett, Smith, Charlie Falconer – and me. Afterwards I nobbled impressive David Blunkett in the lift to make sure our agricultural colleges are mentioned in his White Paper. Blunkett was good in committee, on top of all the detail, and doing a slide presentation as if he, blind, could read it. Our post-16 education is terrible. One sixth form had a pass rate of 2 per cent – even though these days it is made very difficult to fail any exam. David also said lots of the colleges and techs have serious fraud problems. Brown was a clear and driving chairman, completely in charge. These occasional glances at the political top of the government make me realise how marginal is my current role. I walked back down Whitehall in the gorgeous sunshine to MAFF. Realised I have been operating around Whitehall for a quarter of a century and still get a kick passing these ancient ministries and Parliament. Had a meeting with Jeff about today’s GM debate. He quickly filled me in on the main political points. He is very chirpy, enjoying himself running all the most controversial issues in the department: BSE, TB, abattoirs and now taking over quarantine – on which we had a meeting at noon. The quarantine meeting was sticky, with the MAFF vets pointing out why it was too risky to do anything. I left early to go to my GM debate in the Lords, fortunately so, because the previous business collapsed early and I only just got in the Chamber to the despatch box in time. No proper lunch and I just sat there for five hours while the speeches droned on at interminable length, averaging a quarter-of-an-hour each. Most of what was said was genuinely sensible, but too slow and too long and too repetitive. I sat on the front bench with one ear open, but my main attention was on writing tonight’s speech to the Anglo-French Chamber of Commerce. Very important to me and I have written it myself, not trusting it to the deathless prose and dense paragraphs of MAFF’s literary geniuses.

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Dinner in the evening at the Waldorf – very 1920s Art Deco – and we had champagne in the Palm Court. The French Meridian group have taken it over and the food is now very good. I sat beside the wife of the boss of Elf oil, who speaks perfect English, German and Norwegian as well as French. She had toured the world with her husband and liked Nigeria best. Sylvia Jay, wife of our ambassador to Paris, spoke well in support of English cheeses – we had four served at dinner including an impressively smelly one called The Stinking Bishop. My speech was OK, a careful mixture of anti-Brussels CAP, ­pro-European and larded with jokes. Daughter Kate who came with me was pleased. The audience, some 300 businessmen, was quite testing. Home at midnight pretty drained.

Friday 28 May 1999 Maggie sped me down to the country in the new office car, with a firm ­suspension which does not suit me, especially when trying to read a red box in the car. Spoke on phone to Jeremy Taylor’s son. Today he walked out of the Daily Mail. ‘All they want you to do is to dig up shit on people, and if you cannot find the shit, they want you to make it up.’ So he is unemployed but happier. I recommended him to try regional newspapers where the journalists are usually decent. Or the Financial Times.

Sunday 30 May – Saturday 5 June 1999 Lovely holiday in Céret. Sunny, not too hot, ate every meal outside. Otherwise, usual daily routine for me: walking down to Céret in morning to buy bread and The Times, Sarah driving down to shop and usually ­carrying me back up the hill though sometimes I walked back as well – a good six kilometres. Then read on the terrace. We did the crosswords together every day. Most evenings are spent in the village, at a different little restaurant each night. But sad restaurant news. The Brasserie has closed and our good friends who run the Ferme du Céret are thinking of giving up. Have always loved eating there in the garden. Lovely evening at the Vidal, outside on the balcony, with our French friends, Yves and Dominique, and Jill and Robin Chapman. Jill criticised the Serbia war and said that we could never win etc. Not a single person she knew supported it. I said that told us about the kind of people she knew and

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she began to flail her arms and beat me, which I enjoyed enormously. I did not reveal my own strong reservations about the war, but simply said that we would win, which they all denied. A lively evening, with delicious fish. Next day Serbia surrendered. Jill phoned to thank us for the dinner and when I mentioned the surrender she talked through me about something else – classic liberal style of not engaging in an uncomfortable discussion. Some nice Labour peers – Simon Haskell and wife, Joyce Gould and Betty Lockwood – arrived at the sumptuous Terrasse au Soleil Hotel across the valley from our house. Simon and spouse brought their tandem and rode around the valley. Betty drives the car and takes the cyclists up steep hills. Visiting them at the hotel, I also talked with the ambitious young proprietor Pascal, and he told me of the difficulties of running a business in dirigiste France, ‘full of controls and inspectors and social security payments’. Also how awful the Catalans are to work and live with. Full of jealousy and envy, not interested in prospering themselves, their only pleasure trying to stop others from succeeding. When he first arrived here, he invited his Catalan neighbour to lunch. The latter declined, saying ‘I don’t want to be under any obligation to you.’ Might have to give him a glass of water in return. The French lady at the Ferme de Céret said the same about the Catalans and that is one reason they are thinking of leaving. ‘Jealous and envious.’ But I still enjoy Roussillion, for its physical and sensual beauty. The journey back to Gatwick was painless. Wonderful midnight welcome from Honey, paws around my neck, then curled up on my feet in bed all night.

Sunday 6 June 1999 Anniversary of 1944 D-Day and similar blowy wet weather, which I remember well. Watch the French Derby on TV and doze a lot. Hope the Serbian victory doesn’t go to Blair’s head. The Sun praised him as like Churchill, which ought to worry him, coming from that stable.

Monday 7 June 1999 To the Lords for the employment relations bill. Hundreds of amendments but no votes. David Montgomery came in the evening for a couple of hours’ chat in the Royal Gallery, the only place in the Lords where we can have privacy. Discussed Ireland. Showed me his memo to Jonathan Powell on how to handle the Oranges in the Ulster marching season – seemed shrewd. I said

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I am a bit worried about Blair seeking to solve every world problem personally. Too much messianic ego. He should now leave Ulster to those on the ground – and get rid of Serbia as soon as possible. If Blair believes he is the only saviour, he may end up like Thatcher. Was stuck late on the roster till midnight. Bad later news on Serbia, with their generals refusing to deliver the withdrawal that Milosevic had signed. But John Gilbert, our Palmerstonian defence minister, reassured me it will be OK. John said with great satisfaction that, ‘I have just approved some good targets for our bombs.’ He is the oldest member of the government, yet never seems tired or flustered. The war has taken years off him. Another war and he will be under 60.

Tuesday 8 June 1999 Wandered into the Lords at 2.45 pm thinking I had nothing to do that afternoon except the odd vote. Phoned up MAFF to see if anything had happened and was told, ‘By the way, you have a statement on tin poisoning in Belgian chickens.’ Right up my street. No attempt to warn me beforehand. So had to read desperately through a thick wad of papers to try to get on top of it. Managed to get away with it in the Chamber. Exaggerated, like most food scares. The Times reported that people could catch cancer from the chickens. We checked with the scientists – the worst actual consequence so far was giving people acne – though of course if you were subject to intense doses for 20 years you might die of anything. But not from the occasional M&S chicken. Striking how little time I spend in MAFF these days – usually just a couple of hours on a Wednesday or Thursday morning. For the rest of the time I am just their spokesman in the Lords and nothing more. Work there in the Lords from my red boxes, signing hundreds of letters in reply to letters to Nick Brown.

Wednesday 9 June 1999 In to the 9.00 am ministerial meeting with all the odds and bods. I raised the question of ‘The Strategy for the Future of British Agriculture’. Following our big consultation, officials have prepared a paper setting out the policy options for the next decade. Central importance. But they have arranged a meeting with Nick this afternoon with none of us other ministers involved. We make him promise to take no decisions there and to get them to make a presentation to us. But otherwise it would have gone through on the nod,

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with Nick agreeing with them and no other ministers having any influence. Then later, when we questioned policy we would be told it had all been decided. My good secretary, Virginia, came to see me to tell me that she is leaving. Cannot stand MAFF, sees no prospects there, and is sensibly going to study law. I strongly support her. Walked to the Cabinet Office for excellent meeting on our strategy for Lords reform, well chaired by Margaret Jay. Tactics for the report stage. Discuss whether to make concessions. Gareth Williams against any concessions, quite steely, enjoying rubbing their noses in. I don’t share that hard view, since we have won and should let the hereditaries go with their dignity. Must be clear what concessions we are prepared to make, in order to get it through quickly, and what concessions we will extract in trade, which have to be meaningful – for example, that their front bench will vote with us against maverick amendments. Chatted with Pat McNamara, the sparky political adviser from No. 10. He is on the second floor there and told me that they still haven’t got the Church appointments out of the building yet – a battle I launched 25 years ago, when Robert Armstrong said it would happen only ‘over my dead body’. Dear Robert may prove to be right, as so often. Walked back to the Lords for early lunch with trade union peer Tom Burlinson. He knows Nick well from the North-East. Says was never a team man even on the Newcastle city council, but ran a good constituency party. When Nick was selected for the safe Parliamentary seat there, he asked Tom ‘Should I get married?’ Tom said, ‘No need,’ suspecting Nick’s inclinations – which he thinks are, sadly but understandably, the reason for his secretiveness and not trusting anybody. Tom was a professional footballer, and looks it, fit and square, like an old-style wing half or inside forward. He is steeped in politics, having been high in the General and Municipal Workers Union (my trade union) for years. In fact, I joined it before he did, which is a sign of my advanced age. Off to the Prince’s Trust at Sotheby’s. I thought I had resigned on joining the government, but it seems I forgot. All the great and the good there. Sat with Norman Tebbit, Ivor Richard and Nigel Lawson. Angus Ogilvy was charming in the chair and has done brilliantly to raise another £50 million for a very good cause. He is a new saint – and very clever at dealing with the difficult Prince of Wales. Back to the FCO for a magnificent party given by Liz Symons in the Grand Locarno Room, the grandest in the Foreign Office, huge and high and very ornate, next to the pretty Map Room. At least 200 there. Liz looking rested

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after her week’s break. ‘I simply slept,’ she said. Chatted with Don Macintyre, one of the best journos I know from my old Times days. Just done a biography of Peter Mandelson. He said he made great use of my ‘Morrison’ biography. Chatted to old friend Bronwen Maddox, to whom I gave her first ever City job, at Kleinworts, as a media analyst (she is now foreign editor of The Times). Quite a lively and enjoyable day. Will I miss all this when I move out?

Thursday 10 June 1999 Went into the chamber for PQs to hear Gareth Williams answer William Astor on the future of the Tote. Clear the government hasn’t much idea what it will do with it. Afterwards, William Astor told me that their main attack next week will be on the issue of by-elections to replace any of those elected hereditaries who die in the interim stage. To me that does not seem like an issue for Labour to fight to the last ditch, though it does perpetuate the hereditaries. Their answer is that they will survive only until the next stage of reform. But not sure when that will happen. Saw Miles Norfolk after PQs. Told me he had visited Basil Hume, the saintly Catholic Cardinal, on Monday, and he was close to death, very yellow. ‘It is a matter of days not weeks.’ He was very friendly. Worked in my room on a red box. Most sinister was a paper from chief vet Scudamore saying we should reconvene the Kennedy Committee on dog quarantine, ‘with a different chairman’. So he wants to overthrow the whole process of reform and go back to square one. These vets have no respect for the policies of the elected government supported by the public. They just have their own agenda. I write stiff rejection comments on the paper but they will be ignored. Will contact No. 10 and alert them to do battle on this. The Serbs appear to have finally capitulated after endless ­prevarications. So force worked – with a tough people who would recognise nothing else but force. Blair is sensibly being cautious, not triumphal. But the big ­problems now lie ahead, in getting the refugees back into devastated Kosovo and stopping civil wars of revenge breaking out on both sides. One interesting aspect was the apparent material weakness of the Russians. ­ They have no serious military force. One problem in their participating in the UN occupying force is that they have difficulty in shipping any of their troops there. Jonathan Aitken has gone to jail for 18 months for his silly perjury. He is already destroyed by the trial and there isn’t any real need to punish him

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more, except for the judicial principle that truth is at the heart of our justice system and exposed lying in court must be punished. The press is united in a campaign to humiliate him and have been demanding the highest possible sentence. In all these acres of print they never of course mention that the Guardian did lie about Aitken, much more and more seriously than his lies. They said he traded in arms and pimped for the Arabs, which they now admit were lies. He simply falsely claimed that he had paid a hotel bill. Yet he is in jail and the Guardian is peacocking with sanctimonious self-righteousness. Aitken should have admitted who paid the bill and ­ should have told his department; then he would have been OK and would probably have picked up a million from the newspapers for their libels. The reasons the papers are in such attack on him, as John Wakeham said to me on Tuesday, is that they want to frighten off anybody else from taking action against them for libels. They want to leave the impression that anybody who sues them might end up in jail. So it is a setback for those of us who would like to restore some respect for truth in journalism. Aitken was a liar and he must go to jail to deter perjury. He should have accepted three-quarters of his claim when they admitted guilt and offered to settle. His fault was the arrogance and greed of pursuing the final yard of victory when he was on shaky ground. And his attempts to involve his young daughter in his ­cover-up were utterly indefensible. Dinner in the evening at the Royal Academy was very pleasant. I always like it there. The Summer Exhibition pictures were more attractively hung than usual, with many fewer of them. One room of stunning huge Hockneys in wonderful rose colours, bringing California and the Grand Canyon into Piccadilly. Also some nice Allen Jones, two good Ken Howards (inevitably of a nude before a window) and some striking Adrian Berg green plants. Apart from these I would have settled for the lovely Elizabeth Blackadder flowers. Chatted beforehand with John Kerr, Head of the FCO. We always get on well, being hangovers from the 1970s. Told me he feels ‘more excited than for 20 years. When I go to meetings in Europe, people want to hear what I have to say.’ Says Blair is now the unquestioned leader of Europe. John is impressive and hugely knowledgeable. Left with Tessa Blackstone, who told me about today’s front bench, which I missed. She raised the issue of Patricia Hollis demanding that most stages of her bills have a three-line whip, when often there is not a vote. Patricia is a real professional who I respect for her mastery of a complex policy area. But she might be more aware of how some of her exhausted colleagues react to her demands.

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Friday 11 June 1999 Liz Lloyd phoned from No. 10 about the MAFF vets’ counter-attack against our reform of dog quarantine. The bid to reassemble the Kennedy Committee with a new chairman is actually a tactic to reopen the whole issue and certainly delay it for another year. Liz was cautious, saying, ‘We must get them on board … we don’t want to fight them.’ True, but they have their own agenda, which is to overthrow the policy of the elected government already announced by the Prime Minister and supported ­ in the polls by a mass majority of the public. I promised to try to get her a copy of the vets’ paper. She told me about Nick’s talks with the PM at No. 10 ­yesterday – the existence of which was kept from the rest of us ministers. I told her that Nick was potentially sound on quarantine policy, but he didn’t have the clout to fight the Department. Monday’s quarantine meeting should be interesting. Friendly article in the Horse and Hound. Two-page spread on Honey and how I should be minister for the Horse. I get quite good coverage now in the specialist countryside press, less in the tabloids, except for Peter Oborne in the Express. Spoke to Joe Haines, back from another cruise. Liked Istanbul best. I remember it from 1972, beautiful blue mosque, but humourless and unhelpful people. Andrew Higgins phoned about quarantine, where he has a compromise proposal. Told me that Scudamore, our chief vet, had harangued him against the Kennedy proposals and that suggests he is against reform. To a barbecue supper with our vineyard neighbour, John Leighton. Terrific. In the garden of his lovely old house. He produced 20 unnamed bottles of wine, one from 1945, another 1961, and gave us a questionnaire on them. We sampled the lot and felt increasingly in fine form, but unclear about the vintages. Home late and happy.

Saturday 12 June 1999 Took Honey for a long walk. On the road through West End, three large dogs raced out of a farmer’s open gate at Bears Copse and attacked Honey, knocking her to the ground and going for her throat. I kicked and threw gravel at them to get them off. Then a huge fat oaf of a farmer came out and told me he would ‘fucking well smash you up.’ Charming lot, some of these farmers. When we next consider financial help to them I will consult Honey and bear this incident in mind.

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Monday 14 June 1999 European elections went very badly, only 25 per cent turnout and Tories in the lead. All the anti-Europeans voted and the rest stayed at home. It will make Blair think carefully about the Euro monetary question and especially about PR, as this was our first PR election and we did badly. Cleared endless papers and wrote memos on quarantine and the Tote. The treachery on quarantine is now clear. The paper by the official for this afternoon’s video conference states that, ‘The whole policy is now being reviewed.’ ‘Preparations for reform are now on hold.’ And that he is writing a paper with suggestions ‘for a new policy’. Why? On whose authority? We junior ministers certainly haven’t been involved or told. Nor has the Cabinet, which approved this reform as government policy. Nor has the Prime Minister been told – and he announced it to Parliament. So, on the way to London I phoned Liz Lloyd in No. 10 to alert her before this afternoon’s meeting. Unfortunately she couldn’t come to the meeting – has to see the PM at 3.30 pm. Told her about the ‘general reassessment of policy’. She was astonished. No. 10 knows nothing of this. She said that Nick went to see the PM last Thursday. ‘They discussed quarantine and this wasn’t mentioned.’ Agree to stay in touch. Straight into MAFF and upstairs to the hot video room on the eighth floor. Jeff and Elliot came. I straightway asked the official what he meant by ‘a general reassessment of quarantine policy?’ He looked very ­sheepish and said he was merely following the instructions of the Permanent Secretary’s minute of 8 June to Nick saying we need ‘a new policy’. I had seen a copy and written strong opposition on it. But Nick had apparently nodded it through. All junior ministers intervened and expressed their strong ­opposition to alterations and that we insisted we continue with the existing reforms. There was lots of unhappy body language from the officials on the video screen. They obviously felt they had, at the chief vet’s instigation, ­successfully scuppered the government’s dog quarantine reforms. They thought they had abandoned the reforms that MAFF ministers had agreed, which the Cabinet had approved, which had been announced to both Houses of Parliament, which 96 per cent of the public had approved in the consultation, and which the Prime Minister actively supported and wanted bringing in even more quickly. For them a permanent secretary’s minute is worth more than all that democratic rubbish. They have their own agenda and are not very interested in what ministers and parliament say. This is pure Yes Minister in action. They also clearly (and understandably) didn’t quite know what is the status of we junior ministers (nor do we). They know that Nick doesn’t involve us, so they assume they can ignore us. But we still

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have the means to make trouble for them. So they were very ambivalent about whether to listen to us at all. I was particularly severe. And when I floated the idea of an outside body monitoring the transport carriers of the dogs, for transparency, the senior vet on screen went bananas and launched an attack on me, saying they didn’t need anybody’s help and could do it all themselves without outside interference, including interference from me (probably seen as outside). I responded that I was pleased they had such plentiful resources because the chief vet keeps writing papers saying how short of resources they are. The vet then backtracked a bit, seeing the trap. But he insisted, pompously, ‘My signature of approval will be enough.’ I said, ‘Fine, just put that in writing on paper; it will be useful if things go wrong.’ He went very quiet and ceased to offer his all-powerful signature. Later, I sent to Liz in No. 10 copies of all the relevant papers. Dog quarantine is proving a big political issue – which I shall greatly enjoy. The proposed visit to MAFF of the Irish minister, Joe Walsh, now looks ever more intriguing. Nick originally invited him formally, to improve relations and build bridges with our best ally in the EU Agriculture Council. Then also to a formal dinner on Thursday at Lancaster House – to which I was not invited – and to Ascot races with me on Friday. But, first, Nick dropped out of the dinner and asked me, although not originally invited, now to host it. Secondly, the department now admits that it actually does not know how to get tickets for Royal Ascot. So they asked me to use my racing influence to get the free tickets from the British Horseracing Board. Finally, it now seems I am expected to pay £60 for my own ticket to take a visiting minister to Ascot – and the BHB is expected to pay for the visitor by giving him a free ticket. It is all a nonsense.

Tuesday 15 June 1999 A lovely sunny morning for the start of Ascot – to which I sadly cannot go, though next year I certainly will. Walked into the office for a good briefing on Tom Stanley’s impending PQ on lamb slaughter identification and whether we can preserve their lovely ears during the painful process. Lunch on the terrace with impressive Tory John Cope. He is c­ harmingly non-partisan and gets on well with all sides of the House, even the Lib Dems. To the Lords in the afternoon while the Report stage of Lords reform moved at a snail’s pace. Tea with Andrew Higgins, who is worried about the vets’ plot to reverse quarantine reform.

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Saw Liz Symons and her partner Phil Bassett from No. 10 on the terrace. Phil said he thought ‘MAFF should be wound up.’ He said Liz Lloyd kept No. 10 informed of ‘how awful it is in MAFF’. Then a maverick division, which we won – the Tory whips were actually deterring their troops from voting. I met my Belgravia neighbour, Margaret Thatcher, in the entrance to the Chamber. She was quite delightfully sloshed, holding my arm and telling me, ‘My whips are stopping me voting. Take  me to vote.’ I nearly wickedly steered her into the Labour lobby, but then she slipped away. Before going, she persuaded me to agree to send £50 to the Appeal for Somerville College, which she was hosting on the terrace that evening. ‘For your conscience’, she said. I agreed, not for my conscience, but in light of the great pleasure that the undergraduette inhabitants of Somerville gave me in my Oxford years 1953–58! Supper in the Home Room with Liz Symons, Alf Dubs and other Labour peers. We all agreed that this New Labour government is too inexperienced to understand how to run and get the best out of the Whitehall machine. We had several votes on Lords reform, all of which we won – because Tories now have a sensible policy of only selective opposition to it. I have tried to explain this Tory strategy to our whips: that we don’t need to have all our troops here all the time, since the Tory front bench are not going to vote against us except on a few clearly signalled amendments, such as by-elections for the Cranborne 92 surviving hereditaries if they die. The other divisions are by mavericks, and without their front bench they will never beat us. So we need to be here in full force only for the clearly identified amendments. Our whips don’t understand this, so they keep all the troops here all the time, leading to ever growing discontent, except from those old soldiers who have nowhere else to go anyway. Sat in the library from 11.00 pm till 1.00 am working on Thursday’s PQs, because I will be away at Ascot tomorrow.

Wednesday 16 June 1999 In for Gordon Brown’s Cabinet Sub-committee of the Economic Affairs Committee on Productivity and Competitiveness. Chatted beforehand with Peter Kilfoyle and George Howarth, the MP ‘Mersey Twins’, two old mates with whom I feel affinities of working-class origin and humour. The MAFF ministers’ meeting was very good. Nick in excellent form and very funny. At the end we got onto quarantine. It was clear that Nick had not spotted the official counterattack to derail our reforms. Clearly hadn’t taken on board the significance of Packer’s letter on a

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‘new policy’, which he had approved, nor that the letter he sent to the PM had omitted his draft sentence on ‘sticking to the existing policies’. And hadn’t read Scudamore’s letter with its proposal to reconvene a new advisory committee ‘with a new chairman’ replacing Kennedy, whom they disliked because he came out in favour of reform. And was quite unaware of Rossington’s paper stating he had put all preparations for reform ‘on hold’ until he produced his paper on the general reassessment of policy. When we explained all this to Nick, he reacted positively and said he would deal with it all ‘within an hour’. He had no intention of having any new policy. But it had all been in his papers and he had missed it – perhaps because his special adviser, Tom Greatrex, has left. Without this rare meeting with his junior ministers, he would never have focused on the threat until we were derailed by the vets. Of course we may still be, but at least he is alerted. This long discussion delayed my departure for Ascot until 10.30 am, but was worth it. I changed into my morning suit jacket and waistcoat in the car  – having been wearing the grey trousers at the meetings with nobody noticing, since I wore a grey suit jacket with them. I met Sarah going to the Tote lunch. Great pleasure to see Roger Easterby there. His 60th birthday, and we reminisced about his days with Harold Wilson organising the campaign songs 25 years ago. He particularly misses dear Albert Murray, Wilson’s political aid, who died so young. I stayed for only three races because had to get back for the whip. No winners and all the hot favourites beaten, so a bookies’ bonanza. Still a lovely atmosphere in the sunshine and very good racing. Maggie rushed me to the Lords. Then after two hours without a division, I changed into my dinner jacket for tonight’s Mansion House dinner. Feel like I am changing constantly for a play on stage and have been a walking wardrobe all day. In the cloakroom met Mark Marlesford and Trefgarne also changing to go to the Mansion House, so I offered them a lift. We hustled off despite a two-line whip and a possible vote – and we lost in my absence. I have slipped away from whips only twice and each time there has been a vote and a narrow defeat. I have been there on dozens of evenings on ­three-line whips when there hasn’t been a vote at all! Never mind, it was worth going to the refurbished Mansion House for the great Heseltine Haymarket publishing banquet. Michael Heseltine formally greeted me in the line with, ‘The only one of the enemy who is invited.’ I walked around and looked at some marvellous paintings, especially the Dutch seventeenth century.

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For dinner – about 300 in the great pillared dining hall – Michael had kindly put me on the top table just to his left beside the Lady Mayoress Levine and Bob Alexander, chairman of NatWest Bank. Martin Sorrell, CEO of WPP advertising and public relations firm gave a heavy but not uninteresting speech on globalisation in business. Michael was as flamboyant as ever in his very funny introduction. Bob Alexander is a very decent man, interested in many issues outside banking or the law. Left shortly after 11 and collected Sarah on the way: she had been to a private dinner with Graham Greene at the Garrick. With Allen Jones, journalist Hugo Young etc. Hugo says Blair must have a more explicit commitment to the Euro. I suspect Blair will be less so for a while after the Euro elections, his style being to respond to opinion polls rather than try to lead and change them. The government, except for cautious Gordon Brown, seems very pro-Europe – as on the two Cabinet committees I attend, which all seem to assume full entry and imminent participation in the Euro. But outside, it is rightly more cautious. There are good political and economic reasons for that. The general public is less committed than Labour politicians – and, indeed, less interested in the Euro currency. But we will have to decide one way or the other soon.

Thursday 17 June 1999 Brilliant morning sunshine. Went to the progress meeting with Jeff and Elliot. Still unclear if Nick has rescued the dog quarantine business. We all agree that either he didn’t read the key papers proposing a reversal of policy or he didn’t understand them; Jeff inclines to the latter view. Jeff grows in mastery of his side of the Department and really should be in the Cabinet. It is curious that Nick is in charge of this operation when he knows less about the subject than any of us. His special adviser has left, fed up with doing all the work and being unappreciated. In fact, we never spoke a word in the past year – quite different when lovely Cathy was here with Jack, when I invited her to all my meetings. Did some homework on the two PQs and then walked over to the Lords for our front-bench meeting. There was a lot of complaining about ministers who had missed last night’s vote when we were defeated on the employment bill. I was one of those. Said nothing. In fact, I took two Tories away with me, so actually reduced our loss by one. Would not have missed the Heseltine dinner for anything. The PQs – on salmon fishing and lambs’ ears – went particularly well. Managed to get a laugh out of Tom Stanley, suggesting he might be

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kneecapped if he again trapped me here at the dispatch box on Ascot Gold Cup day. My regular china tea and anchovy toast in the dining room with Maurice Peston and Richard Acton. The latter particularly funny about the sexual misbehaviour of various of his aristocratic relatives and friends. Maurice said, ‘Why are we kicking these gems out of the Lords? We must bring in some Labour gems.’ I said, ‘New Labour doesn’t have gems. We just have glitterati.’ Maurice then produced his familiar and attractive market scheme, whereby we Lifers would be able to give up our peerages in return for a fixed sum from the Treasury. I produced my amendment, with more free market: we should be able to auction our peerages to the highest bidder, like bookmakers auctioning their pitches at racecourses, so the hereditaries would be able to buy their way back in again at the market price. Chatted with Melvyn Bragg, who had a successful graphic artist with him. Told them about my setting up famous ‘pop artist’ Alan Aldridge in a studio off the Charing Cross Road back in the 1960s. They were exciting times. Sat in the library reading, with all the usual summer sounds from the tourist boats on the river. Several divisions which we won. Back to MAFF, then off to Lancaster House to host my dinner for Irish minister Joe Walsh. It and its lawns backing on to the Mall looked gorgeous in the evening sun. I took a quick look at the grand paintings, all looking a bit faded as if not protected from the sun through the big windows. But the reception rooms looked fine, recently refurbished, in crimson carpets and wall hangings. The front hall is magnificent, with an immensely wide staircase and ­wonderful gold cupola ceiling high above it. Nostalgic to think I first came to this house a quarter-of-a-century ago when working for Harold Wilson. We were 14 to dinner and I enjoyed it as much as any meal for years. Nice atmosphere, very relaxed and the Irish clearly happy. Joe told me he was very relieved we dropped the boring idea of our officials to have a working agenda and going round the table. Jean Trumpington was in great form and I am very pleased I asked her. Sense she misses not being in the swim, and she is alone since her husband died. I also invited Denis Carter, Alf Dubs and Lucius Falkland from the Lords, and my friend Jeremy Taylor. I put Northern Ireland minister Alf on Joe Walsh’s right so he could strengthen the Irish North–South relationship. Tristram Ricketts from the BHB sat on the other side of Joe, to talk racing and also as a reward for getting Joe the free Ascot tickets. I had Joe’s charming permanent secretary, John Malone, next to me. We plotted to go together to York races this summer and to Punchestown next year. He told me that – contrary to what

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the MAFF vet memos claimed – the Irish had never cooled on dog quarantine reform. We had lots of fun and laughter and no formalities, though I did spontaneously give a little speech of welcome to Joe, referring to our great visit to Listowel, and also to his sensible action in leaving the Agriculture Council to go to Cheltenham Festival races, which clearly demonstrated the superiority of Irish over English priorities.

Friday 18 June 1999 Fantastic June morning. Warm and rich scents. Sad news of death of Cardinal Hume. Truly great, good and saintly man. He has been the true leader of Christianity in Britain for years. Compared to him, some of the Anglican bishops have been a bunch of wallies. But I am certainly not anti-Anglican – they have been a great force for tolerance in Britain since the eighteenth century, from which the Catholics could learn. Some of the Anglican bishops in the Lords have been great. Maggie came to take me to Ascot and already very hot. I walked to the front lawns where I love to sit before racing while there are still not many people. Then up to the Jockey Club restaurant where Tristram Ricketts of the BHB was hosting the Irish and myself. Joe and I rose early from lunch to go to the paddock, looking at the runners. Joe simply said, ‘That is the winner; looks magnificent.’ It came in it 12–1. Joe has a remarkable eye. Tea with John Magnier, the Irish race-owner and big punter. Saw a lot of friends, the weather was fantastic and I enjoyed it enormously. Dodgy conclusion when I walked miles trying to find the right car park.

Saturday 19 June 1999 Very generous piece in The Times by one of my favourite journos, Matthew Parris. Having been a politician in the real world, he writes about Jonathan Aitken saying there is a value in having people in public life who have not lived like monks. Recalls Reggie Maudling, who was blemished in private life, but a wise and civilised old bird, as Jim Callaghan always told me. Parris recalls the great Michael Foot phrase about the odious ‘lynch mob of the sanctimonious’, which is one of the most awful and very ­Anglo-Saxon aspects of our life here. And he admits that the media play a key role in inciting this lynch mob. Set off for a weekend staying with the Channons after lunch, Sarah driving fast via M40 and M11, and reached Kelveden near Brentwood in an

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hour-an-a-quarter. Essex generally looking as scruffy as ever, but Kelveden is a beautiful large oasis, surrounded by fields and low hills and with a long view and wide sky. A house has been there since Domesday, and long occupied by the Wright family, Catholics, including aviator Wilbur Wright. Main house built in 1745 and very handsome. Big rooms and high ceilings. Incredibly untidy because Ingrid always has at least six grandchildren living there and she is not one for tidying up. So it is relaxing and comfortable, with piles of books, magazines and videos on every chair, table and in every corner. Very cheerful. Sarah thinks that Paul is almost the sweetest person she knows, completely unhardened by a lifetime in politics. Ingrid met us and took us to the stables, where a beautiful, huge grey show horse dominated all the others. Paul was at the outdoor swimming pool with the grandchildren. We had tea with them in the TV room watching the Prince Edward and Sophie wedding, which seemed tasteful and elegant in St George’s Windsor – much better than the over-grand royal affairs in Westminster or St Paul’s.

Sunday 20 June 1999 Sarah drove me to nearby Brentwood to the new Catholic cathedral, designed by Quinlan Terry and opened only a decade ago. Arrived as they were taking communion. Lovely atmosphere in a beautiful building. Packed with families, young children playing on the floor, lots of teenagers and lovely hymns. Sarah slipped in after me and we were both moved to tears. Impressive young priest. Sarah said how much she likes the Catholic service; her local Anglican is ‘gloomy’. This had a wonderful atmosphere. Delicious lunch outside by the barbecue. Then Sarah drove us home. I had not really wanted to go, not liking the idea of the journey, or being away from home at the weekend, or missing the World Cup cricket. But in fact I really enjoyed. Paul and Ingrid are terrific hosts. Congratulated David Lipsey, my old friend and colleague in the Number Ten Policy Unit, on his peerage – he will contribute a lot and it will be nice to have his clever and amusing company in the Lords.

Monday 21 June 1999 Cool and breezy morning. Worked first on yesterday’s diary – it has been a heavy week and there were 13 typed pages from Monday to Sunday. Then took Honey for a long walk. The field beside Mire Lane was full of violet poppies and soft blue cornflowers.

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Up to the Lords after lunch. Iced coffee on the terrace with former LSE director Ralf Dahrendorf. He thinks that the European project will never be a plus in elections because just impossible to make the EU sound exciting. Also thinks William Hague is mad to box himself into a corner against the EU. It simply won’t be the big issue at the next general election. Agree. Cannot imagine the public voting for a government whose only policy is to be against Europe. Read in the library until Michael Bedford came in for dinner. Always good to see Michael and we immediately converse closely with nothing hidden. He firmly believes UK should stay out of the Euro because much evidence it will be bad for us and none that it will be good. ‘Don’t change the status quo unless you are sure there will be benefits.’ Thinks better to pull out of the EU altogether than go into the Euro. He is convincing on that.

Tuesday 22 June 1999 Walked to MAFF, calling in at Westminster Cathedral on the way. Long queues for Cardinal Hume’s lying in state. Lunch at the vets association in an Adam house in Mansfield street. An area where the great family houses once were, but now unfashionable except with the medics. Andrew Higgins was there to guide me through the vet minefield and we managed to have a good discussion on quarantine. I said they must be positive, offering to help us avoid health traps and not, like the MAFF vets, using the traps to argue against reform. Back to clear another big red box. Huge amounts of reading material, which I need to be aware of but which doesn’t directly involve me. Feel like a voyeur on the Department’s activities. Agree with Alan Clark in his diaries where he exposes that being a junior minister has little satisfaction, lots of reading, lots of boring meetings, but little influence and no real power. It is suitable only for young political apprentices learning their way up the ­political ladder; not for old soldiers like Clark and me, with little incentive to fight on. The Tories defeated us, 230–180, on an irrelevant amendment to the Lords reform bill. On by-elections, we conceded to let them vote to replace deaths among the Cranborne 92 hereditaries – thus perpetuating their existence. Anyway they had all their troops out so they could have won whatever they liked. Sarah came in for a fairly late supper in the Barry Room, then went home leaving me under a late whip. We beat off a ‘nutters’ amendment 130–40, with the Tory front bench abstaining. It was after midnight when I got home.

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Wednesday 23 June 1999 Cloudy and bit humid but quite pleasant. Nick today launched his campaign to protect British regional speciality foods. Without recognition that I have been waging this campaign from the beginning. Perhaps he and his office have no idea what is going on in the rest of the Department, since they have very little to do with us. Doesn’t worry me in the slightest and he is welcome to all the credit he can grab. But it is not the way to run a happy department. He views us junior ministers as his main competitors. Went on a regional visit to very nice people – the DeGustibus bakers in Abingdon and a big mushroom grower near Witney. The MAFF regional office did not even know we were going there. No press arranged. But the Oxfordshire countryside looked lovely. Rushed back for an excellent quarantine meeting with the animal transporters. Many of the problems that officials have turned into mountains they swiftly reduced to molehills. They also demolished the ludicrous idea of allowing in to the UK only those animals travelling for more than eight weeks. (In fact there is no way of knowing how long animals are travelling for, or making them stay longer than eight weeks if their owners decide to return earlier than that.) Sat next to Packer, who was at his best, with several shrewd comments. When he is good he is very no-nonsense good.

Thursday 24 June 1999 To an 8.30 am Cabinet committee on devolution. Was really a s­ emi-Cabinet: Irvine in the chair, Straw, Dobson, Darling, Margaret Jay, Reid, Falconer, plus junior ministers Caborn, Quin, Clarke, Wills and me. The issue was whether the devolution Memorandum of Understanding should remain of enormous length and detail, including instructions on how letters should be written and exchanged, or, as Dobson and Straw say, should be very short. Derry was very funny in flushing out the opposition. Then John Reid popped up with a reasonable compromise, already drafted, which Derry jumped on to accept and everyone was happy. At the end I registered MAFF’s position on a side issue and got Derry’s support. It was in my favourite committee room, Room A at the Cabinet Office, with the dark fabric walls, high gold-rimmed ceiling, and the lovely ­seventeenth-century portraits of Walpole, Pelham and Hartley. I noticed for  the first time that nobody ever smokes at Cabinet committee any more – no Wilson pipe – I don’t know if it is banned or just by consensus.

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Coming out along the old Tudor red-brick corridor I met Andrew Turnbull, impressive recent second permanent secretary at the Treasury. Chatted. Andrew said he is ‘worried that the economy is now going so well that the Chancellor has time to get involved with your Number Ten Policy Unit people in all kinds of micro issues. We don’t want too much of that.’ Lucky Chancellor. Poor Denis Healey would have settled for that. Walked over to the Lords and phoned old friend Andrew Graham, Master of Balliol College, to discuss his coming in to lunch. He said it is very hard work being head of an Oxford college – really both chairman and chief executive. Most taking the job don’t realise this and that most of their time will be spent on raising money. I want to get him into the Lords, where he would do very well. Am slowly removing my things, especially books, from the MAFF office, so when the break comes I will have only my big Jones painting to remove. Don’t want to spend a lot of time hanging about there. After clearing another red box, had nice tea and anchovy toast with Margaret Jay and the Reeds, discussing our proposed walking holidays together next year. MJ was beaming, clearly loving her Cabinet job. The whip was up quite early in the evening and I had barely finished my red box. Walked home, along the concrete canyons of ugly Victoria Street. Then to the annual summer street party in Elizabeth Street. Ate a big sausage and drank a pint of Neame beer, rare for me but unbeatable on a hot evening. Great jazz band.

Friday 25 June 1999 Glorious summer day for the funeral of Cardinal Hume. He was a great, saintly and humble man and the country has really been touched by both his good life and courage facing death. Walked to the Cathedral, which seemed immense, absorbing a huge public mourning and an endless procession of 500 priests and monks – those in black cassocks and cowls looking like ominous crows. Denis Carter leaned back and said, ‘There is your future vocation, Bernard.’ Not sure about that. Denis told me that, before I arrived (with Patricia Scotland looking gorgeous in a striking hat), a huge African ambassador had come to sit in my seat. A meek attendant came up to him and bravely asked, ‘Are you Lord Donoughue, sir?’ Where it is tiled, the Cathedral looks very handsome, but vast spaces of ceiling are unfinished and the high, cavernous, vaulted spaces look black and ugly, rather like the roof of old Liverpool Street railway station. They should use the support for Cardinal Hume to raise a fund to finish the

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ceilings. But lovely music, Bach and Brahms, before the service and then masses by Vittoria and Fauré. The hymns were quite Protestant, nonconformist Wesley. I like the gilt carvings of the ‘Stations of the Cross’. I was very well placed, four rows from the front and beside the aisle. Blair was in the front row with Irish Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern (they go straight from the service to Belfast to try to rescue the peace talks). Frank Longford turned up with Antonia and was carrying one of his famous plastic bags. He sat down throughout and told me after communion that he felt ­‘completely worn out’. Princess Michael, wearing the largest hat in the cathedral, ­carefully arrived last – even after the Queen’s representative, which upset people around me. The procession of cardinals and Catholic bishops, all in their fine white and red hats, was very impressive, going up beside the high altar. The white wood coffin was striking before the altar. The tribute by the Bishop of Sunderland very moving. And the silent time at the end, when the Cardinal was taken to be buried in the chapel, was quite eerie. We were there for nearly three hours, but it didn’t seem a minute too long. A tremendous demonstration of Christian celebration. It was clear that Catholics are in fine voice and spirit, but still not strong in the political establishment. Not many politicians present – apart from Blair, just we few Lords and John Reid and Paul Murphy from our Labour side in the Commons; Barney Hayhoe, John Gummer and Ann Widdecombe with one or two other Tories. Cherie Blair was there, separate from Tony – gave me a smile after communion. It was a wonderfully uplifting occasion, my first full High Mass in the cathedral. Afterwards, I stayed a while in the square in front and watched the crowds pouring out into the bright sunshine.

Sunday 27 June 1999 Much greyer and cooler. Irish Derby won brilliantly by Montjeu, who is clearly an outstanding horse. Played a little slow tennis, wary of my recovering foot.

Monday 28 June 1999 Better day – bright and fresh. We have a policeman through here at Shurlock Row only once a week – the villains know which same day it is and courteously confine their robberies and violence to the other six days. What would the police do on a Sunday if I left a message saying: ‘Have

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just murdered my wife?’ Perhaps: ‘Will drop by on my Wednesday when passing through.’ One of the many deteriorations in rural life is the almost total lack of policing. In my childhood village, smaller than this, there was a village policeman living in the police house, who knew all the i­nhabitants and what the problems were. Now a quick, once-a-week car passing through. When I told our Maidenhead constable he should always enquire for information at the Plough pub, then open, he asked, ‘Where is the Plough?’ Feeling very fit myself. To our weekly progress meeting, now changed from Thursdays to Mondays, because the Commons ministers these days often are not here even on Thursday. Jeff in sparkling form. We rolled on into a meeting on small cheese businesses with Michael Wills, new minister at DTI keen to show that New Labour loves business. Dashed back to the Labour peers summer party. Arrived late, so missed John Prescott speak (Blair being still in Ulster). Chatted with lots of our new peers, so many that I will never recognise them or remember their names.

Tuesday 29 June 1999 Took a rare morning coffee in the peers’ guest room with our lovely golden oldies generation, who always meet there as part of their daily club routine spent in the House. I am the only minister who is so uninvolved in his or her ministry that I have time for these engaging chats. Nick Glydon, my Céret neighbour, to whom I gave his first job in the City at Kleinworts, came in for lunch. Recalled my setting up the first unit for quantitative analysis in the City, and also the first team analysing the new media sector. Hopes to retire from the now awful City in three years when forty, and to continue his chart analysis service from his lovely house in Céret – the wonders of the internet. Evening supper in the Barry Room with Andrew and Rose Parker Bowles. Sarah and Rose get on extremely well, sharing contacts on their two vast social networks. Rose is a very good sort and very good for Andrew. Andrew and I mainly discussed the horse business. He supports me there. Told me that Henry Carnarvon, with whom he regrets he doesn’t now get on too well, is ‘your greatest supporter’. He was at Ampleforth (with Peter Savill) and is from an old Catholic family – I suppose so am I, partly, but not in the same elevated way as him  –  Irish is always seen as bog standard. Said both he and Rose wept watching the Hume funeral service.

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Wednesday 30 June 1999 Fortunately bright and sunny again after yesterday’s downpour. Off bleary at 7.45 am for a grotty train journey from London Bridge into remote East Sussex. Visited examples of farm diversifications – into woodland, furniture and wild meadow seed growing. High point was a lovely 60-acre farm, completely uneconomic in modern mass farming terms, which has switched from unprofitable cultivation of poor land to restore old-fashioned meadows full of various grasses and wild flowers. The farmer harvests the seeds and sells them. All part of an excellent High Weald initiative, with the local authorities and the new Countryside Agency cooperating. A good example for the future of a biodiverse countryside. This is the side of my job which I really enjoy. Standing in that meadow, looking across the Weald to the Downs behind Eastbourne and Brighton, was exquisite. I liked the people and liked what they are doing. The whole visit worked perfectly. It was organised by bright Euan Cameron (Celia Read’s cousin). Euan confided in me his frustrations with MAFF and its many defects. He said it is ‘desperately negative’. Told me that, he will tell Nick Brown this at dinner this Friday – not that Nick will dare to do anything about it. Back in the train, my private secretary commented that MAFF is ‘a voluntary organisation’ – because it is voluntary whether officials do any work or not. If they do work, it won’t be noticed and rewarded, and if they don’t work, it won’t be noticed and punished. Walked down hot Whitehall crowded with tourists. London is intolerable in the summer. I am against encouraging mass tourism, since the social cost and inconvenience to London citizens is greater than the financial returns. Should be targeting high-quality, high-price minority tourism. Big vote on Lords Reform, Chamber packed with hereditaries, and we were crushed on an issue of not extending Parliament, which I had felt we could accept from the beginning. Once the Tories have summoned their vast hereditary battalions they have to give them a vote to justify the journey. Best to let them vote on the issue that we were going to concede anyway. Small meeting of the Racing and Bloodstock Committee on having a Ministry for the Horse. They decide on MAFF and assume that I am ­scheming for myself. In fact I won’t be there and someone else will benefit. But it is right anyway. Afterwards back to the Lords for a string of divisions by Tory nutters, with their front bench abstaining, all of which we won. I stretched out on

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two armchairs in the library and finally dozed off. Fortunately, was woken by a passing attendant just before 1.00 am and found the House was already ‘up’, dark and nearly everyone had gone home. A really enjoyable day and feel in great form. Wish I could feel like this during our dank winters, when those viruses lay me low. As of today, I wouldn’t choose to retire. That decision was taken in the middle of darkest winter; but it sticks and in my long-term is right.

Thursday 1 July 1999 Slept heavily till nine, then a long cold shower woke me up. In to a briefing for the PQ tomorrow from Margaret Mar on the dreaded slaughter houses. She has written over 200 letters on it and has been ticked off by the chief clerk and our chief whip for taking too much time and expense. I like and admire her but suspect she has gone over the top in pursuit of another campaign medal. Front bench decide to issue a memo warning ministers to speak at less length on amendments where there is no danger of a vote. Too much of that. The slaughterhouse PQ went easily and more subdued than any I have done. Margaret Mar wisely kept it on a low key and I had arranged for officials to see her beforehand, so I could promise to be positive in my response. Could be the last PQ of my ministerial career course and not very memorable. Sarah was waiting in the Lords lobby looking very beautiful in her elegant evening dress for tonight’s banquet. Westminster Hall looked fantastic, welllit so you could see its beautiful wooden rafters and the great old statues of the six mediaeval kings along the east wall. Champagne was served and we mixed around. The Hall was filled in tables of ten, with people allocated randomly unless they asked to be grouped. We probably should have done the latter, but I had not focused in time, and was anyway content to go to Denis Carter’s table, all familiar Labour except Sarah. A lovely moment was when Helen Peston and Teresa Carter realised they had both bought the same evening dress for the occasion, very nice blue chiffon, but clearly identical, which ladies don’t like. Helen turned to me and said, ‘Hers is from John Lewis, mine from Harrods.’ There were appropriate speeches from Speaker Boothroyd and Patrick Cormack, and a long but very interesting monologue celebrating the 900th anniversary of the Hall by an actor. The acoustics were pretty poor.

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Then nice light music by the Guards Band and some extracts from Gilbert and Sullivan by the D’Oyly Carte. I have never really taken to things like ‘Iolanthe’, but it was very appropriate to this occasion. Several, including our chief whip, fell deeply asleep during the long monologue, but I felt very entertained and in great form. Quite a social week this but am enjoying it immensely and don’t feel tired at all.

Friday 2 July 1999 Not in bed till after 1.00 am, but woke early and set off in great sunshine to Chevening for another of our ministerial away days. Really interesting. Took over an hour-and-a-half to get the 20 miles there through that dreadful part of South London – could have got to Doncaster by train in the same time – but well worth it. We have such a first-class ministerial team in the Lords, excellently led by Margaret Jay, who looked elegant in a smart trouser suit. Started in the library, as last time, long table in a cosy room surrounded by fine-bound books. Discussed the political situation, where we are basically optimistic. Don’t take the Euro election result seriously enough. Clearly more leadership on Europe will be necessary. The interesting divide is between the ‘Old Labour’ people, like Patricia Hollis, who talked of the activists feeling they no longer ‘own the party’ (thank God!) and the majority of Labour supporters who support Blair’s efforts to emancipate Labour from the control of these minority interest groups and activist factions, who lost us so many elections in the past. I said ‘Tony’s main contribution has been to take the Labour government out of the hands of the activists and give it to the people.’ I identified housing and transport as our policy Achilles heels – where have invested too little over several governments and which hurt everybody and cannot be improved for years. Excellent discussion on how to get more efficient government and to train ministers and civil servants to deliver policy objectives. Some departments, such as the Home Office and Education, happened to be delivering because Jack Straw and David Blunkett are good team leaders. But overall there is no management and no accountability for the delivery or ­non-delivery of policies. There has been no progress in this area since we took office – and Charlie Falconer confessed that Blair is not instinctively interested in efficient management, has no experience of it, and has of course never been a junior minister or in a ministerial team (nor indeed ever actually run anything).

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They were shocked when I told them that our paper on this Labour government’s whole agriculture policy for the next decade had been produced by a small group of officials, with no consultation with ministers, and slipped through a half-hour meeting with innocent Nick. I said that the main reason for non-delivery of policies was that many departments are ‘unmanaged, and unaccountable for being unmanaged’. I said only the PM could change the culture. He must instruct secretaries of state to manage teams and permanent secretaries to ensure they operated an official team delivery system. I suggested he might sack some senior official, for poor management, ‘to encourage the others’. Did not mention any possible candidates. Lunch was delicious – sole – and delightful in the dining room looking across the lawns and the lake. I sat with Liz Symons and we discussed the impending reshuffle. Everyone thinks it will be much smaller than originally intended – especially as Robin Cook and Clare Short may have rescued themselves by good Kosovan wars. Though Liz thinks Robin won’t be foreign secretary at the next election. Through her husband in No. 10 she often catches the mood there. After lunch we had a few photos taken and then walked over the sunlit lawns. I went with MJ. She is terrific at keeping the team in place, learning from her father to network everybody and inform everyone of anything which concerns them. We all enjoy Patricia Rawlings’ reported joke on Lords reform: that holding the key Report Stage on a Wednesday upset many hereditaries – ‘because it ruined two weekends’. And I liked Gus Macdonald’s descriptions of ministerial teams as ‘amiable cabals of freelancers’. Didn’t break up till 4.00 pm. Tempting to stay in the sunshine – Chevening is in a wonderful setting on a sunny day despite the proximity of the motorways – but I headed off to Fox’s Walk with my new driver Vince, who, like Father Flanagan, is from County Cavan and said, ‘There are lots of Donoughues there.’ Home by six. The Irish peace talks have now gone two days beyond the final deadline and it looks pessimistic. At root is the problem that Trimble cannot yet deliver his Ulster Unionists without decommissioning IRA arms, and Gerry Adams cannot deliver decommissioning before the assembly meets. Impasse. Blair looks tired.

Saturday 3 July 1999 Dozed and pottered until realised we were late for the evening with the Carnarvons.

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Went first to Highclere Castle for a reception. Lots of Labour friends there, including Gareth Williams, and Liz Symons, whose husband Phil said he had had the worst five days in No. 10 in two years, because of the impasse in Northern Ireland. Long chat with Jeremy Deedes, and we agreed that his boss Conrad Black grows daily more and more like Orson Welles in Citizen Kane. Actually, for some reason, Conrad has always been friendly to me and I always find him interesting, with a huge intelligence and memory. I enjoy his comments on politicians. After to supper at Milford Lake House; just the family, trainer William Huntingdon and Sarah and me. William told me that he hasn’t missed race training one bit since retiring. He is a Wykhamist, though he hid it as a trainer, very intelligent and well-read.

Sunday 4 July 1999 We went to a lunch party at the Heseltines at Thenford. We sat at a long table near the swimming pool. Anne exposed to the elements at one end, and Michael having placed himself safe and dry under an awning at the other. I sat one side of Anne with Norman St John-Stevas the other side. I immediately realised that, as always, Norman didn’t know who I was. In fact I have known him a little for 39 years. We worked together on the Economist in 1959–60. I remember vividly how, at that time, he was sent to cover the election of some new Pope. He returned ecstatic – he would clearly like to have been a Pope, or at least a Cardinal, and his face has slowly corrupted with heavy jowls and a large bulbous red-veined nose in the fashion of a Medici Cardinal. On his return from Rome, he joined us in the Economist staff dining room and announced he had exclusively secured a large cutting from the same roll of holy cloth from which they had made the new Pope’s cloak. He produced it with a flourish, swirled it open around his shoulders, and minced around the table covered in ermine. From that time, I realised that his and my approach to matters such as politics, the Catholic faith, sex etc. was likely to be different. I have been in the Lords with him for over 10 years but I don’t enter his world. Sarah tells me that she has known him and been introduced a thousand times but he never recognises her. Despite all that, he was, as always, amusing, with witty remarks about various princesses and queens (of both sexes) whom he claimed to know. He was particularly bitter about Chris Smith abolishing his beloved Fine Arts Commission, which had no doubt provided Norman with countless cultural

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freebies for 16 years. Anne regretted the departure from office of Mark Fisher. Norman disagreed with that, saying ‘All words and no action’ (which I imagine might apply to Norman in some areas). Chatted with former Tory chief whip Richard Ryder and his wife Caroline, who I think is one of the nicest political wives I have ever met. They say she has had a bout of cancer and I pray it is OK. Ann Mallalieu’s husband was there, slagging off Blair and Labour in a rather adolescent way. He is a criminal lawyer and explained to me, seemingly disapprovingly, that only Catholic lawyers worry about getting ‘not guilty’ verdicts for guilty villains, because ‘They are the only lawyers with consciences, and there are not many of them.’ Michael took Sarah and myself to tour his incredible walled garden and huge new glass house, with automatic air-conditioning, watering and a tropical room. Michael is totally at home there. I realised that, although he makes a big thing about being a philistine, knowing only about politics, totally uninterested in music or Anne’s art world, in fact, among plants, gardens and trees, Michael’s approach is completely aesthetic. He is an impressive artist in that area. His is the only new arboretum to be created in Britain since the war. That is where he is creative, without having to be artycrafty or overtly intellectual. He took us to a sculpture garden, where there is a Frink of an impressively well-hung man, and a magnificent five-ton bust of the Evil Lenin, brought here from Latvia after they overthrew Communism. I wouldn’t want it in my sitting room, but in a 50-acre garden it looked terrific. Anne also showed us two recent portraits of herself and Michael. His is excellent, but hers a bit drab, which she is certainly not. Sarah drove us home in an hour and so back by 5.30 pm, to hear that Sampras beat Agassi in the Wimbledon final, which we had completely forgotten about. Realise I may have only another two weeks in office. Still feel mixed about that, now I am enjoying – but no inclination to change course, even if I could.

Monday 5 July 1999 Hot and sultry day. Papers full of speculation of the reshuffle. Yesterday I raised with Michael Heseltine (who is looking much fitter and more relaxed than when in government) the issue of the Government Car Service and whether he had ever thought of privatising it. He said, ‘Yes, it is an absolute scandal. But in government you have to decide which issues are worth taking on. The GCS is a small issue and it is not worth

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taking on the heart of the government machine, which is what the drivers are. They can create real trouble for you. It is not worth it.’ Typically shrewd. I lack that sense and incline to take on small scandals because they are scandals, even when not worth it; and big scandals, like our press, when I have no chance of winning. He is simply more professional than me. Went up to MAFF for our weekly progress meeting. Jeff told me that Jack Cunningham has learned that MAFF had given the Sunday Times a complete printout of his diary when at MAFF, so they can attack him. Evidence of real decline in Whitehall behaviour. I stayed on for Jeff ’s meeting with the federation of small abattoirs, led by a rough character and his daughter from Wigan. Both Jeff and I took to him. They put questions on why we don’t change the disproportionately heavy charges for the small plants, which would help them. We have no answer to that. The Department has its own agenda of supporting the big plants and letting the small ones go bust. This means that half of our abattoirs – 150 out of 320 – will go out of business in the next five years and then there will be whole stretches of countryside without access for the small producer. Scandalous. I realise I am in favour of the small producer, small abattoir, small family farmer, small village shops and pubs, because these country people make our countryside alive, and not just the mass factory-farm prairies, huge distant abattoirs and mass supermarkets, which MAFF’s and the EU’s long-term strategy points towards. These individuals add value to the quality of our rural life. But MAFF and the CAP are pushing the countryside completely the other way. I don’t want the British countryside turned into a commodity economy of mass producers, losing our great rural heritage. Read in the library till our roster was raised at 11.00 pm. By then the House was nearly empty anyway, on the Greater London bill, and our roster had dissolved earlier, leaving me one of the mugs who always sticks around.

Tuesday 6 July 1999 Woke at 6.00 am, early for me, ready for long drive to the Royal Show at Stoneleigh in Warwicks. Hot and sultry day and our Ford Mondeo car too small for four of us, with a red box. I love these countryside shows, my one big gain of going to MAFF, since was unaware of them before. Toured the cattle lines and especially enjoyed the tiny Dexters – would like a couple of them.

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Also toured the excellent speciality food tent, which made me feel I had achieved something, since I have tried to prioritise this from the beginning, trying to make the Department give more emphasis to Britain’s fine foods. Tasted the Melton Mowbray pies again and lots of good stuff from Cornwall. Also visited the display on collaborative marketing, which has been another of my priorities. To lunch in the president’s tent. Met William Hague and Seb Coe, his athletics secretary, in the gents beforehand and sat with Seb on the second table. An official pointed out to me that they would never have put a Tory minister of farming anywhere but on the top table, but I didn’t mind since it enabled me to slip away early to visit the Countryside Alliance, where they were all agitated about expecting an announcement on banning hunting. I know nothing about this, but then I am in the government where we are never told anything. Home for a quick change and then with Sarah to the annual Max and Jane Rayne dinner party beside Hampstead Heath. Wonderful scene, though thundery showers and we couldn’t wander in the garden under the trees. Auberon Waugh hovered in the background; he is very kindly supporting Susan Crosland now she is ill, but he is a humbug, having spent much of his life on Private Eye denouncing other married men who find themselves in this dilemma. Journalists who throw stones in glasshouses. At dinner sat between Corinne Laurie, looking beautiful, and Jill Parker. Sarah had an excellent draw with Bamber Gascoigne, who told her he had had lunch with his wife every day for over 30 years (Sarah stated clearly that she would not want to do that with me), and Nico Browne-Wilkinson, who we love, but who is not enjoying his work as a Law Lord.

Wednesday 7 July 1999 Delightful day. Was the David Swaythling Memorial Race at Newmarket. So had a great day at the races. First went into the morning meeting with ministers. Nick was in amusing form and the atmosphere is now much improved. If only he knew how to run a team, it would be a pleasure to work with him. I sat with Liz Lloyd, the football-playing lady from No. 10. She said ‘The work in No. 10 is RELENTLESS.’ I remember that – and it is worse now. Liz asked me what I thought of the agricultural support package from the Cabinet Office, which has been approved by Nick and the PM. I said that Jeff and I had never seen or heard of it. She said, ‘That is outrageous.’ Sarah drove us up to Newmarket in bright sunshine, taking only an hourand-a-half via the docklands desert, grateful for our air-conditioning in the

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heat. Nice group of friends of David and lovely atmosphere. But no winners. Back by six. Went to big party at the Tate showing off some magnificent Turners, with half of Westminster and Whitehall there enjoying the champagne outside. I chose melon juice with ginger, very refreshing. Talked to Margaret Jay, who assured me that there would be no announcement on banning hunting. Went home to collect Sarah and then decided to make my first visit to my new club, Pratt’s, where owner Andrew Devonshire has elected me as a non-paying member. Went and rang the bell, but was told through the visual intercom that ladies are not allowed in. They hadn’t told me that, though I should have guessed. Did not matter. Sarah (not me) rather approved of those kind of old-fashioned, anti-politically correct gestures, and we both roared with laughter. Returned to eat supper at the Motcomb Street party. Had a great band playing Presley rock music. Loved ‘Blue Suede Shoes’, brother Clem’s favourite tune.

Thursday 8 July 1999 Front-bench meeting very amiable. In the Lords we are on top of the legislative programme and should be up before the end of July – the threat of running over into August has once again dissolved the opposition. There were reports on Tuesday’s meeting of junior ministers with the PM. Apparently the same points were raised that we had at our Lords meeting  – the lack of political team management and of line management. One of the problems is that, apart from Jack Cunningham, none of the Cabinet has ever been a junior minister and so doesn’t understand how to manage them. Very few, except for excellent David Blunkett in Sheffield, have ever run anything like a big department, or indeed run anything at all except a constituency management committee meeting of nine activists and a tea lady. I said that one problem was the absolute decline in the calibre of civil servants compared to 25 years ago: this meant that line management is much more important to get the best out of them as well as junior ministers. Some, understandably, felt that my experience at MAFF was like nothing else on Earth let alone in Whitehall. I enjoy these meetings, brilliantly chaired by MJ, and will miss them when I go – latest rumours are either 19 July (Jeff) or the weekend of 24 July (chief whip Carter). Incidentally, on the Whitehall ‘line management’ issue, a questionnaire has been circulated to junior ministers asking for their views on relations with the official machine. A start. In fact, predictably, my questionnaire was

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kept in the Permanent Secretary’s office for two weeks and I did not receive it till after the final date for submission. Good Yes Minister material. Anyway, I filled the questionnaire in and sent it off with explanation of the delay. Doubt if it will get there. Cleared a huge red box. One cheering piece was a memo from Packer supporting my memo suggesting that the quarantine carriers use an outside body to monitor their own vetting of animals. I realise – and not just because he supported me this time – that Packer is sensible and practical on many policies. He should be a major policy division head and would do that well, as he did running our European division. It is in personal line management that he is unsuited to actually run a whole department. Took Tessa Blackstone for a light supper out on the terrace. She and Margaret Jay remain my best friends in here. Tessa knows I am going and approves. She sees no point in my staying ‘with that awful department and that awful minister’. I am feeling great and she says ‘You are clearly demob happy.’ Home to the country at 10.15 pm. Sarah watched Question Time with Tony Blair and felt he had been a bit dogmatic about banning hunting.

Friday 9 July 1999 Long walk over the fields. The Mire Lane is still pitted with deep puddles. It almost never dries out fully round here, echoes of when it was mostly lakes and bog and the village was called Sur le Lac (now Shurlock). Blair’s unplanned announcement on TV that we would bring in a bill to ban hunting ‘before the next election’ was politically silly. It will alienate the countryside again, just as we have quietened them down; and will win no votes since the zealot antis would never vote Tory anyway. To put it in the legislative programme and leave too little room for our education, health or especially the waiting transport legislation would be mad. Typical politically correct gesture. Particularly odd since MJ assured me at the Tate party that Jack Straw had assured her he was simply going to make an ‘on hold’ statement in the autumn. So Blair has overruled him. Looks like a No. 10 teenage initiative of the kind that we can seriously do without. I will certainly vote against it in the Lords.

Saturday 10 July 1999 Sarah drove us 184 miles to a distant part of Norfolk, to Patricia Rawlings’ party at her grand new country pile at Burnham Market, Hunstanton.

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We reached Ely in two hours around the M25 and the M11. Broke for a delicious omelette lunch and walked around the lovely cathedral, which I had never seen. There was a touching service for animals, so lots of pretty dogs, with sheep and goats in cages in the knave aisle, which is nearly 100 yards long. Very worth a visit since I don’t expect to go to that part of the country ever again: Norfolk is ‘very flat’, as Clem Attlee said. We drove down to the sea at Brancaster, which seemed a bit like Southend with the tide in, packed with families eating burgers and ice cream and burning in the baking sunshine on the sand dunes. But a lovely sea horizon of ship sails. On to our excellent hotel in Burnham. We walked to Patricia’s house, which backs onto the village green, and toured it on arrival. She and her boyfriend Paul have done a tremendous job of restoring it. Have cleverly put photos of paintings in corridors and small rooms and the big old portraits were of nobody related to them or the house. Patricia enjoys the grand old English country life. We sat down to a dinner for 14. It was kind of her to include us in her own dinner party: the other 200 guests had been farmed around the great houses of Norfolk, including some Tories to the Cokes at Holkham. I didn’t know any at our table except Sarah and Tim Bell. I sat with Patricia’s mother. I found her impressively sharp for 84 and we had a good gossip. On my other side was a very bright lady, part French, who lives in Paris but finds France ‘oppressive and over-regulated; the bright young people are not allowed to flourish, or to work and get their reward.’ I have observed that too. She hated President Chirac and was not very optimistic about the future of Europe. After dinner there was a curious long pause in our pleasures while we waited for people to arrive from their other parties. Sarah knew many of them better than me since they were from her set when young. Most enjoyable was our long chat with the Aga Khan and his new German bride, Gabrielle, who I like more the more I see her. He wasn’t exactly enjoying the wider party, saying he prefers to meet with a few friends and talk seriously, rather than ‘all this social chit chat’. I agree totally on that and always enjoy conversing with him. We covered the racing scene. He is puzzled by the Irish two-year-olds, where Aidan O’Brien has had 22 winners from 26 runners. ‘They look like three-year-olds.’ Must be good Irish nourishment. We decided to skip the song recital in the crowded music room and went with K and Gabriele to the small dance room, where two lads were working a turntable with nostalgic vinyl dance records. K said these were ‘from my daddy’s generation, not even old me’.

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Sunday 11 July 1999 Took a walk around the village of Burnham Market, which must be the prettiest in Norfolk – with two fine old Anglican churches, one of which they could give back to us Catholics since they stole them 400 years ago and are certainly now usually empty. Sarah and I walked back to Patricia’s house. An idyllic scene in the garden, like Edwardian England, men and women in coloured frocks and white blazers and straw hats – waiters serving cool drinks. Lunch of whole lobsters and crabs – I had both – with salad and great potatoes, followed by strawberries and cream which I self-righteously ducked. We sat with the Pakenhams; Michael is very successful at the Foreign Office, and knew all about the problems at MAFF. He is amused by all the lists of ex-ambassadors writing to the newspapers expressing support or opposition to the Euro. ‘They suppressed their hatred for one another for years, but now it is coming out. It is all personal really.’ Not possible to discover where he stands. Told him that I like his sister Judith’s poetry, at which he expressed astonishment; surprised me, since usually the Pakenham crowd support one another in all their family literary and commercial ventures. He is now thought to be the most balanced and successful of them, but with little of their usual endearing idiosyncrasy. Sarah and I finished first among the 200 sitting down at long tables and we scuttled away out of the back entrance to pick up the car. We decided to avoid the M25 horrors and went back slowly through the flat fens to Peterborough and across the length of Northants to familiar Towcester and not home till 6.30 pm.

Monday 12 July 1999 Again searingly hot and heavy. To London after lunch for what may be my last week in office. Quite relaxed about that prospect. My desire is for ­anonymity and control of my own life, destiny and diary. That way ­happiness lies. To Jeff on the sixth floor for our progress meeting. Not much progress to report since not much happening – or not that we are involved in. Jeff had seen Jack Cunningham this morning, who said the reshuffle will be on the weekend before the 26th. Jack knows nothing of his own fate. Nor Jeff – his private office have told him they are working on the assumption that he is moving. Apparently Jack said to him that, ‘Without you and without Bernard’s experience and network there will be nothing left in MAFF.’

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Theresa cleverly hunted down the Cabinet Office package on the proposed higher abattoir meat charges. Nick has had these for six weeks – while I have been doing questions and meetings on this subject – without letting me have a copy. That is why I have to go. It is impossible to do a proper job under this silly secretive regime. Over to the Lords where I sat next to Margaret Jay in the Chamber. She said that ‘The Government is trying to row back on hunting,’ though I hear otherwise from elsewhere. It seems that the PM did not mean to re-ignite it when he talked loosely on TV, but, once he did so, the zealot antis in the team have tried to make sure a ban happens. MJ has unwittingly fixed her end-of-term party for Monday 26 July – the day when the full reshuffle will be announced; so it may be a P45 wake. Saw Denis Carter, who told me that the PM’s hunting statement was a cock-up. He had seen Ann Taylor who told him that when she saw Blair today he remarked, ‘I only said what I thought was Party policy.’ He added with a grin, ‘Are you telling me this is another prime ministerial cock-up?’ Good he can laugh at himself. Many politicians cannot. This week, The Times has launched a vicious campaign against the Tory treasurer, Michael Ashcroft, when he was in business in South America. There are pages of so-called ‘investigative’ journalism, most of it unreadable and seemingly irrelevant to the average British Times reader. I have not come across anyone in the Lords who got to the end of it or proposes to read more of it. The question is why have acres of this boring stuff? It may be part of an agenda to get rid of Hague. I recall when the Times editor told me at a Lincoln College dinner that The Times would ‘not be content’ until it had torpedoed John Major and the Prince of Wales. Here is another victim. Did not get home till nearly 1 o’clock, but still feel in top form despite all these late nights. Probably demob happy, as Tessa Blackstone says, and the healthy mixture of a lot of exercise and very little alcohol.

Tuesday 13 July 1999 Lunch with Andrew Graham, acting Master of Balliol and my great deputy in the Wilson policy unit. We slipped into our old friendship immediately. He is very clever, but subtle and modest. We planned his peerage, which he greatly deserves. Afternoon in the library waiting for divisions and reading Antonia Fraser on the gunpowder plot. To the terrace for tea by the murky Thames. With Ann Mallalieu, charming Lord Daresbury (of Greenall Whitley, sponsors of the Grand National) and Kate Hoey, who looked downcast – I had written to her begging her not to resign on the hunting issue. Stay and fight.

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Wednesday 14 July 1999 Thunder threatening. Took Sarah to the wonderful French Residence in Kensington Palace Gardens for the celebration of Bastille day. In a huge marquee overlooking the gardens. Back to the Lords for the PQ on school milk, which went very quietly without any problems. After PQs I sat in the Chamber and listened to the debate on the Northern Ireland bill, arranging the new peace settlement. Fascinating in a tense atmosphere. Gerry Fitt, for the Northern Irish Social Democrats, was impressive talking sympathetically in support of his old enemy, David Trimble, and pulling no punches on the Sinn Fein/IRA murderous alliance. Margaret Jay showed me a list of six amendments, which we will introduce tomorrow at Committee stage to try to win over Trimble’s Ulster Unionists – he is having difficulty carrying his pathetic little army. But we still don’t meet the main Unionist objection – that dissolving the Executive and Assembly, if the IRA doesn’t decommission arms, gives them the veto over the Assembly’s existence and the power to bring it to an end. Perhaps I don’t sit in the Chamber often enough, because I became really interested – though Ireland is always more interesting than BSE or social security. Tea with my old vet friend Andrew Higgins. He knows of my retirement intentions and tries hard to persuade me to stay on. Toured the corridors networking, especially about hunting. Ran into Labour’s finance guru, Joel Barnett. He said with a grin: ‘Cheer up, Bernard, you will be free soon. You are completely wasted at Agriculture. You should have been at the Treasury or Arts.’ Shrewd Mancunian bird, Joel. To the Abbey Gardens yet again for a barbecue. Had to eat a big steak in front of the cameras because today we got the news of the lifting of the beef ban on 1 August. Meant had little appetite for supper later. Dare not decline the steak in case the media claimed again that I am a vegetarian. Chatted with farming leader, Don Currie, who I like a lot. He is well aware of the dodgy situation in MAFF and said, ‘I hope you won’t move.’ I simply said, ‘Watch this space.’ Back to the Lords to collect Sarah and go to supper in the Barry Room with Geoffrey and Elspeth Howe. Elspeth rather dominates the conversation and she is very bright. Geoffrey again said he thinks ‘the press is now where the trade unions were in the early ’70s – irresponsible, unaccountable and doing grave national damage’. Elspeth believes we need a powerful overarching statutory commission which would regulate and could punish the press – in the way that already exists for commercial TV.

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After supper, Sarah went home and I stayed with a three-line whip on several votes on the access to justice bill, delayed by the Irish legislation. But, as the evening went on, the news was dominated by the apparent collapse of the Irish talks. Trimble could not deliver his Unionist troops and did not even put our new amendments to them, just pulling out of the whole thing, and that kills it for the time being. Denis Carter and Gareth Williams were dashing around, summoned by No.10, and told that we will have to withdraw the Irish bill and not have a Committee stage tomorrow. We gathered in Gareth’s room and discussed it (Alf Dubs as Irish ­minister, Denis Carter, Gareth and myself). I was very depressed but Gareth was convinced it was just a hiccup and they would all settle in the end – ‘because the alternative of going back to the gun is not acceptable to them’. Hope he is right. On banning fox hunting, Denis told me that, at a meeting in No. 10 today on something else, Blair said, ‘Sorry about the hunting cock-up.’ But when I pressed Gareth on what the Home Office would do, he showed he is in favour of the ban and shares all the old Labour politically correct chippiness about the hunters. At 11.30 pm the whip was lifted and I went home feeling that, as usual, things are going wrong in July. Still too hot to sleep.

Thursday 15 July 1999 The news is full of the Irish disaster, where the Unionists have pulled out of the talks and refused to join in the new Assembly – and it cannot start without them. So the IRA are preening themselves as the men of peace and pointing the blame at Trimble. Silly of the Unionists to get themselves outmanoeuvred in that way. Our front bench – maybe my last, and certainly my last but one – mainly concerned with talk about Ireland. I feel very depressed, almost bereaved, after all the effort put in by Blair and Mo, having got to within an inch of success. They should spend the summer identifying the Unionist real ­sticking point and see if there is a way to bridge it. It is ­understandable they don’t trust the IRA on decommissioning arms, but they are wrong to pull out now, since the Good Friday agreement does not require actual arms delivery now – just the construction of a timetable that will start the ­decommissioning process. They should have supported that timetable process, and then pulled out if the IRA didn’t deliver it. But it would have helped if the government had put that timetable into the bill, which might have held Trimble and the Unionists. As it is, we have

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now withdrawn the Committee stage of the bill today and leave it on a back burner. The discussion we had on Lords reform was disagreeable and unworthy. On the pressure from the hereditaries to preserve ‘club rights’ for themselves in the Lords after they have gone. This is silly and cannot be allowed. The facilities are for Members of Parliament and cannot be given to outsiders. Also, for their own self-respect, now they are going the hereditaries should go with dignity and not hang around the House bars with subsidised drinks. But the tone of some of our front-benchers was unpleasant and unnecessarily vindictive. Chippy Andrew McIntosh said, ‘They should be hung, drawn and quartered.’ Another said, ‘I am fed up with the way they talk to me and the sooner they are kicked out the better.’ Gareth Williams was scathingly puritan about them, that chip showing beneath all the intelligence and wit. Others made equally adolescent remarks. This was inverse snobbery; the mirror image of the hereditary arrogance and no better. The fact is that the hereditaries are going. They should be encouraged to go with dignity and grace, without disparagement, and recognising their many past contributions in the Lords. We won some divisions on the employment bill and then I set off for a party for new MEPs at the foreign secretary’s grand residence in Carlton Gardens. I spent my time touring the grand house. There were some fine portraits: an ugly Charles II and honest portraits of Queen Anne and Mary in the drawing room. The dining room was best, with great paintings of Georges II and III. Sped on from there to the LSE in the Aldwych for the annual Honorary Fellows dinner in the staff dining room, little changed from when I was teaching there 20 odd years ago. I really enjoyed this. So many old friends there. Chatted with George Jones and my dear old friend Ann Bohm, now nearly 90 and still as sharp as a pin. At dinner sat with the secretary, Christine Challis, who looks younger and happier than when I was on the Standing Committee long ago. She is a solid North Country rock for the director and the School. Peter Parker, chairman of the Court when I was last on it, made a typically flamboyant and funny speech, including some good stuff about his testing time running British Rail. He also stressed the crucial point that the UK must always invest in our intellectual and academic infrastructure. The new director, Tony Giddens, spoke at some length on his trendy theme of ‘globalisation’. He seems to have done an excellent job in raising morale at the School.

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Maggie drove me to the country by midnight. But I woke at 4.00 am and awake till seven with my mind buzzing on how to extract myself physically from MAFF. How to get my big Allen Jones painting out, and where to – also my books and papers from within the office. Must do all that next week, so when the final chop comes I can leave clean and instantly, without morbid or triumphant witnesses.

Friday 16 July 1999 Slogged on this diary, which makes me feel the past week was fuller than it seemed at the time. My system of taking notes immediately after any events is essential, otherwise I would never have remembered which day it was, let alone what was said. News still full of Ireland; clear the talks will resume in the autumn and not all is lost. The Times still full of the Michael Ashcroft nonsense, which almost nobody is taking up, not even Labour. Today’s FT had a piece speculating that Michael Meacher might go into the Cabinet. Anything is possible I suppose. He is good at courting the media, which today is a prime qualification for high office.

Saturday 17 July 1999 My main feeling is that I don’t want to go on with the charade in MAFF, where I have no real job to do. Were I in another ministry it might be different. It is typified by the fact that in every red box I have a thin file headed ‘Decisions’, usually with two or three papers in it. Then there is a huge file headed ‘Reading: to see’, which keeps me marginally informed. Often write my comments on these papers but there is no evidence that Nick has ever taken any notice of a single one of them. So, professionally, it is a farce. My only job is as Parliamentary spokesman in the Lords; frankly, an assistant whip can do that.

Sunday 18 July 1999 Glorious English summer day. Went to mass and Father Flanagan was in great form. Said ‘I have very good news for you. We are reverting to the old, original creed, that was used in the sixth century and still is used by the Orthodox Church. The really very good news is that it is not in Latin and it is only half as long as the present one.’ Then something reminded him of his hero Oscar Wilde. ‘He was lying dying on his bed in a scruffy hotel in Paris. A friend came to visit him and found him leafing through the Bible. The

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friend said “Oscar, you old heathen, I didn’t know you ever read the Bible.” “I am not reading it”, said Oscar. “I am just looking for loopholes” ’.

Monday 19 July 1999 I start my last week as Her Majesty’s most junior minister. Quite relaxed about that. Up to London with Maggie, straight to Jeff ’s room for our weekly progress meeting, which in fact was just a good gossip, since there is no progress to report which we are aware of. The agricultural strategy process is continuing, but none of us are involved. Nick promised Elliot that we would have a ‘presentation’, but nothing came of that. Jeff said that Packer had told him he was ‘sitting on a few decisions waiting for the reshuffle’. At 6.30 pm attended the Committee on the bizarre Millennium Bug threat, with Margaret Beckett firmly in the chair. Sat with Peter Kilfoyle and George Howarth, a good Old Labour trio. It may all be nonsense. If the millennium computer virus does not strike, we have spent millions on scaremongering. Really a question of assessing risk, which is not easy to do. Not sure Whitehall is right to be so nervous this time. Before supper met Tessa Blackstone, just off to one of her regular dinners with fellow ministers in Education. David Blunkett clearly knows how to handle a team. They all speak well of him.

Tuesday 20 July 1999 Quite a big day, with our meeting of all junior ministers at Admiralty House, which I have been looking forward to. Maggie dropped me in front of the Horse Guards and I walked through with gangs of Japanese tourists and into the back entrance of Admiralty House. Chatted with Jack Cunningham, who was chairing the day’s proceedings, and with admirable John Spellar, who is working hard to get the forces to consume more British meat. He is a real character. Liz Symons was the best-looking minister in the room. The meeting was in a room at the back looking over the corner of Horse Guards Parade, with wonderful large paintings of naval battles on the green fabric walls. About 40 of us sat in rows. As always in Britain, unlike in America, there was no rush for the front row, except for egotistical Glenda Jackson, with her theatrical background. Richard Wilson, Cabinet Secretary, spoke in a friendly way, his huge ears seeming to flap like a young elephant and his face creasing upwards

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into a half-grin as he spoke. He said he knew that being a junior minister is ‘­frustrating’ and that we have ‘less power than our friends and family think’ – correct, but I felt he seemed to enjoy the thought. Stressed that the civil service had fallen from 750,000 to 450,000 since the previous Labour government – of course a lot of those have gone into ‘agencies’, which stumble along as before. He said ‘we must deliver results more quickly’ and that in the autumn they would launch some initiatives to try to achieve that. We shall see if that adds up to anything. He said that ‘ministers must prioritise’, but nothing about dealing with the official deadwood. I didn’t get called to speak, one of a long list who didn’t. We really needed a whole day with the Cabinet Secretary, because the machine is the heart of our problems – and he is central to any solutions. I had written out what I would have said: ‘Modern government is complex and requires modern management – political management by ministers and administrative management by officials – to deliver policies satisfactorily. This is not always happening, and currently is left to be optional: if ministers and senior civil servants choose. Because some Cabinet ministers may not understand political team management (most present ones have not been junior ministers, and where they have, as with Jack Cunningham, it shows to the benefit of their team). These ministers need to be guided and instructed on team management – which needs the intervention of the PM. And because some permanent secretaries do not encourage and provide official structures to facilitate team and line management in their departments. They need to be told to provide these team structures in departments, incorporating the whole team of ministers – including the circulation of all relevant papers and attendance at committees and meetings. Should not just leave it to the secretary of state to run a team or not. How to do it? The PM must instruct his Cabinet ministers to learn and operate team management according to well-known modern management principles. And the Cabinet Secretary should instruct his permanent Secretaries to provide the structure for team management. Those who seriously fail should be removed. Then we will deliver good political governance and good administrative management. This is not happening in MAFF, at either ministerial or permanent secretary level. I am told it is not satisfactory in several other ministries.’ Tessa Jowell and Hilary Armstrong spoke on joined-up government, with their ‘social exclusion’ activities as a good example. Our women ministers

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are really impressive: not just Tessa Jowell, but also MJ, Tessa Blackstone, Helene Hayman, Helen Liddell and Mo Mowlam are all terrific. The Tories cannot match any of them. Labour’s policy of encouraging more women MPs and peeresses is paying off in ministerial quality. The Tories just have men and so have a smaller pool of limited talent. I learned at the LSE that women are usually cleverer. After a buffet lunch, I went to sit in the handsome drawing room, which was also a bit cooler. Then back to hear Alastair Campbell – very powerful and honest about his side’s deficiencies. Said, ‘We are not as good at communications as we should be.’ Stressed the familiar line that we must all have a ‘core message’ and repeat it with sound bites when talking on particular policy points. Am not too comfortable with that. David Miliband was gratefully brief and precise on the policy side. Beforehand, in the gents, he told me that Jack Straw had sent him a 1974 Daily Mail clipping which described ‘The left-wing junta which runs No. 10 and the country’ – ‘led by B. Donoughue.’ Well I certainly don’t run anything now! Not sure about the left-wing bit either, but the Mail rarely gets it right. Then we came to the keynote address at 3.00 pm, by the Prime Minister. Blair looked tired, with dark rings around his eyes and a 4-o’clock shadow. But he spoke for half-an-hour without notes and was exceptionally clear on the political scene before and ahead of us. He stood up and, as always, is taller than we think. He began with the ‘nonsenses of the press’ and said, ‘I am never more amazed than when reading my alleged innermost thoughts which I have never ever had.’ Sadly, he is clearly not very interested in the Whitehall machine or the issues of logical management, which fascinate me. He dismissed those issues in a couple of minutes, saying that the civil service was better than we had been led to believe: ‘Doesn’t have its own agenda (!) and is waiting to be driven by ministers.’ (Not in MAFF it ain’t!) ‘It is a Rolls-Royce machine, though of a certain vintage. We as ministers have to learn how to use it better and introduce some creativity to it. If we ministers don’t drive it, the civil servants understandably think it is their job to keep the machine ticking over in neutral.’ That has usually been true of most of Whitehall in my lifetime. Then, with relief, he moved on to what interests him – ‘the political big picture’. He said, ‘We must never lose sight of the New Labour big picture’ – which he summarily defined as, ‘Friendly to business without losing sight of social justice; and an educated society and economy.’ He has an impressively clear idea of the big picture – which of course Harold Wilson never had. In that sense they are opposites: Harold submerged in day-to-day detail and

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trivia, Tony impatient with detail and always focusing on the big picture. He never loses sight of the next election. He thinks entirely in terms of knitting together our series of interrelated policy messages/soundbites into the big picture. Says we must always talk of our individual policy statements in the context of the big picture. He remembered and recounted all the particular soundbites from the last election and said they are still our central aims. In fact he sounded very like Alastair Campbell, and one can see how close they are and intertwined in their approach – as also with Mandelson’s approach. This is the New Labour politics: it wins elections. His central point was that we ‘must establish clear lines between our Big Picture and the Tories at the next election … And that is not much different from in 1997.’ It was an impressive, coherent and lively performance. I realised that he is a formidable party political leader, which is not always the role in which we see him. He will win the next election. Can see why he isn’t ‘blown off course by events’, as Harold was. But still disappointed that he is not interested in the performance of the Whitehall machine, because that could be our Achilles heel in not actually delivering our policies. Margaret Jay came to see me to clarify my position on the reshuffle. She had seen Jonathan Powell, who said ‘Bernard’s letter of resignation puts him out of play.’ But Blair’s personal secretary, clever Anji Hunter, had said she ‘hoped I would still stay on’. I said I was firm in my intention to go, because ahead lay a possible nightmare with Nick Brown as minister – but Jeff Rooker, my essential colleague, like Joe Haines in No. 10, will have moved on. I couldn’t bear that. Of course it might possibly be Nick going, with Jeff minister, then I would regret going. But Margaret doesn’t think that likely; thinks Nick will stay and Jeff move. The debate on our Meat Hygiene Service was fairly predictable, with a massive attack from Stoddard, Pearson and Mar. I stonewalled in reply. I was allowed 12 minutes to wind up and the speech MAFF gave me – around 30  pages of typed dense prose – would certainly have taken an hour-anda-half to read. So I threw it away and ad-libbed as I went along.

Wednesday 21 July 1999 Quieter day. No meeting of ministers etc. Nick has cancelled the last two before the reshuffle, no doubt hoping not to see Jeff and me again. The Mar PQ was very unsatisfactory, with her asking me about some obscure Italian research on an organophosphates (OP) compound. Not an ideal issue to depart on. No chance for humour. Would have liked to have gone out with a joke.

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Afterwards dropped into a tea on promoting Cornwall. Some good Cornish people and enjoyed a big scone with cream. Leaving the room, I saw Peter Mandelson and chatted about his prospects. He said he knew nothing of any return for himself. I truthfully said his departure was the worst over-punishment in Cabinet history. He said, ‘It is all a question of perception.’ Of course he is the genius and originator of the politics of perception, and became a victim of it. Went back to my office and cleared a red box. The Decisions file contained two items, both invitations to parties in the autumn. I mischievously accepted both. Pottered around the House corridors gossiping. Mentally and emotionally am already out of office.

Thursday 22 July 1999 In for a meeting with the grain traders on their problems, which seemed very remote at this stage. Probably my final policy meeting. Talked to my excellent secretary, Theresa, who said my exclusion from everything makes her job pointless. On the way back to the Lords for the front-bench meeting, I called in on a little protest gathering by the small abattoir people. They seemed pleased that a minister had bothered. Very good atmosphere at my last front-bench meeting. This is a fine team and Margaret leads it well. Agreed we need more junior minister meetings like this week’s, and I suggest should be a whole day with the Cabinet Secretary alone so we can get to grips with the Whitehall issues and problems. Afterwards, Margaret told me that she had seen David Miliband this morning in No. 10. He was critical of the Cabinet Secretary, saying, ‘MAFF is terrible and Richard Wilson will do nothing about it.’ I still believe that reform will happen – so that neither MAFF nor Packer will be there in Whitehall in five years’ time. Took the 6.00 pm train to Gatwick to fly to Cornwall. On the train we were phoned and told I had missed a vote in the Lords which we lost by 11. Too bad. Arrived in Newquay in glorious evening sunshine. Straight to Port Isaac and the Headlands Hotel was as welcoming as ever, with marvellous dusk views down the coast. Lovely to be here again.

Friday 23 July 1999 It was like Italy in the village, sultry and the smell of flowers and shrubs and the sea. Drove to the local Camel Valley vineyard, where I launched another

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big Objective 5b scheme to assist marketing. The vineyard is in an idyllic situation and the Lindoe’s wines are delicious. I stayed for lunch and sat on the balcony being interviewed by the sensible local media. At times I wondered why I am leaving this job when I really enjoy visits like this – but they are just a small part of it, and Lords whips mean I can rarely do it. Went to Padstow, had an ice cream, walked along the headland to sit on the grass above the estuary and opposite the house we rented at Easter. I love it here and will press Sarah to come again and even buy a house. Fly to Gatwick – angry with BA for serving us French cheese rather than good cheese from the region they fly from.

Saturday 24 July 1999 Strange political atmosphere, waiting for the reshuffle. ‘Waiting for the End, boys, Waiting for the End’, as the poet William Empson wrote. Brought home delicious Port Isaac lobster for lunch outside with salad and glass of white burgundy. Afterwards read under the honeysuckle; watched some racing from Ascot – the Aga’s Daylami slayed the Derby three-year-olds. Another long dusk walk with Honey and asleep by midnight.

Sunday 25 July 1999 Even hotter and heavier. I have arranged for my huge Allen Jones painting to be moved from my office tomorrow on the assumption that all would be over by then. Now it will lead to some gossip. Must make up some tale about it going on exhibition.

Monday 26 July 1999 Took Honey for early walk, very puppyish, playing games and leaping all the way. She really is a joy in my life. As is Sarah. Those two, along with the children, mean I face leaving office very positively. Must never lose sight of the really important priorities in life. Up to London at midday. Meeting with Jeff and also discreetly removed my Allen Jones painting from the office. It was hilarious. Our personal odd-job man had arranged for some electrical contractor to moonlight off with his van and collect the picture. I went with them, sitting up front taking it home. On the way, I saw Elliot and explained loudly that it was going to an art exhibition and I think he believed it.

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Returned in the scruffy van to go to our last weekly progress meeting, which was just a farewell gossip. Today I had a glimpse of a better civilisation when I phoned Joe Walsh in his office in Dublin. His private secretary said: ‘Minister Walsh is out of the office.’ I asked if he would be back tomorrow. ‘He will not: he is at the Galway races all week.’ Six o’clock, the annual summer Labour Lords tea party given by Margaret  Jay and Derry Irvine in the Lord Chancellor’s residence. Very crowded and hot. Talked to Sarah Macauley, told me she is going to New England with Gordon Brown for their holiday and that a previous time in France it was intolerable because people recognised him and kept coming up to talk to him. Does Gordon find that intolerable? I don’t know because have never experienced it – and certainly don’t want to.

Tuesday 27 July 1999 Woke and rose at 6.30 am feeling quite hyped. Cleared all the papers off my desk. Into an unreal meeting on progress on dealing with the scandal of gangmasters. Unreal because I know I will never hear of it again. But I held it because the official, Alison Blackburn, has done a superb job and it was one of my early initiatives. She may have noticed that I didn’t have a briefing file with me. I just wanted to thank her. Actually they cannot progress much because the police are not interested in this kind of criminal; the Inland Revenue won’t bother because the extensive evasion is individually only for small sums; and Social Security seems incapable of dealing with the fact that wherever we hold a raid, a half of the people working for gangmasters are also on unemployment benefit – and a third are illegal immigrants. But we have made some progress due to Alison and there is some trace of joined-up government. Afterwards, Jim Scudamore, the chief vet, came in. We have never met, which I think is scandalous. I have sometimes attacked him in his absence  –  including in these diaries – for the vets’ obstructiveness over quarantine reform. In fact, he proved a very constructive man. Apologised for never seeing me, but explained he was new to the Department when I came in and Packer never advised him to get in touch with ministers. He said he will in future. He assured me that his vets are now supportive of quarantine reform and often it is a question of presentational style – they always flag up their objections and forget to mention their agreements. Also agrees it is essential that the vets come up from Tolworth to London to be exposed to the political mainstream.

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Then Barry White, Trimble’s clever political adviser, came in to brief me on the Northern Ireland situation. Said, ‘Everybody is exhausted. Trimble is ready to resign. And the rest will if we don’t reach agreement in the autumn.’ He fears it will fail. The Ulster Unionist party is in a mess and very negative. Except for Taylor, nobody thinks strategically or in the long-term. Mo Mowlam hasn’t met Trimble in 14 months and the Unionists have written her off as wholly on the Sinn Fein side. She took no part in any of the recent negotiations, it all being done by Blair and Trimble. Their meetings are not very impressive, very woolly, with nobody quite sure what has been agreed – which is why the Ulster Unionists now insist that Trimble is always accompanied for the talks. Barry said he wished that I ‘had been at the Northern office instead of Alf Dubs’ and couldn’t understand why I had stuck MAFF so long. I share that view. He is bright and should contribute to Northern Ireland’s future, since he understands better than most of his masters what they have to do. He thinks Trimble will take one last plunge for a settlement and then resign if his troops won’t follow him. Better to go out with a bang than a whimper. Sat in the Chamber for two big votes on the Lords reform, with the Tories turning out all their backwoodsmen for a massive victory. Dick Marsh said he met a Tory in the bar who said he had resigned the Tory whip in 1957 over Suez and hadn’t come in again till now. Old Tory hotelier, Charles Forte, entered the Chamber, probably for only the second time in his life, looked bemused, wandered over and sat next to me on the Labour front bench. I welcomed him and said if he had a cheque I would get him a Labour Party membership form. He waved his tiny arms and said in a sharp Italian accent: ‘I no a Labour; I a Conservative; whatta you saying to me?’ He rose slowly to his full four-foot height and disappeared, probably for the last time, out of the chamber. Had a second tea with Margaret Jay. Gossiped about the reshuffle; she keeps stressing that Blair wants to do his real one next year for the run up to the election, which I take to mean he won’t do much with the Cabinet till later this year or next. She was pretty scathing about the quality of her father’s Cabinet in 1976–79. ‘All those cretins like Roy Mason.’ True they have all declined badly with age. Also because they have too little intellectual hinterland and non-political interests, so they spend their lives hanging around our corridors and bars recalling the bad old days. At least I have no intention of doing that. David Montgomery came in at six and we chat in a cool breeze on the terrace while he brought me up to date on Ireland, where he proposes to

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phone Jonathan Powell tonight. I hint that No. 10 may have other things closer to home on its mind this evening. Sat in my room waiting for Sarah to come in for supper. Tessa Blackstone and MJ dropped in for a chat. MJ had just heard that the reshuffle process had finally begun, with Tony Blair sitting in the garden of No. 10, with Anji Hunter, Sally Morgan and Jonathan Powell, with pads on their knees going through names. Not very professional. Might take a long while. We all agree he simply must never do a reshuffle in this amateur, prolonged way again, with the whole government paralysed for weeks. Should be unexpected, never in fractious July, maybe in September out of the blue, when the Westminster circus is not on, so no fever and paralysis. We ate in the dining room, surrounded by friends. Tory peer Tristan Garel-Jones came up and said he had refused to vote with his party against Lords reform today: ‘I am in favour of reform and all this opposition is a nonsense.’

Wednesday 28 July 1999 Really and truly last day as a minister. Slept late and rose slowly on another scorching hot day. Cleared today’s heavy post, phoned the office to cancel today’s meetings. Dithered whether to go to Goodwood races this afternoon or stay for the last rites. Finally, decided to stay, so I phoned William Hill to apologise for not going to their Goodwood lunch today – and was told my Goodwood lunch is not today anyway, but tomorrow. Clear clinical evidence I need to retire! Went into my Smith Square office for the last time at midday, taking Honey for her last farewells. Totally unreal atmosphere. Whitehall is paralysed waiting for the changes. Blair must never do this ritual in July again. MPs are hanging around gossiping. Some ministers cannot stand the pressure and go on holiday anyway – as have Mo Mowlam and George Mudie from Education. I went up to see Jeff, who was signing a few final letters and has cleared his office. (I have done the same, removing my last precious item today, a photo of Honey in my arms at the Game Fair.) I also signed a few letters and answers to written PQs. Jeff and I chatted desultorily, knowing it was our last day working together. I have really enjoyed his companionship and support. He was bored and tense, hanging around waiting for his move and finally decided to head for Birmingham: ‘If they want me they can phone me in the car and I will have to turn back.’ He wants to go to a Party meeting in Brum to support a colleague. He will be OK travelling since Blair will do the

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sackings first and probably won’t get round to the new appointments until tomorrow. I walked over to the Lords and cleared my desk there, with very little I wanted to keep. Then went to the TV room with another couple of hardened faithful and watched Dettori win the first two races at sunny Goodwood. It was beautiful there and I look forward to going tomorrow. Walking back to my office, I saw Margaret Jay in the corridor and she said, ‘It is all happening at last and will be done in two to three hours.’ Relieved, but doubt if it will be as quick as that; these things always take longer. Andrew McIntosh said that people will be summoned to Blair’s Commons Room from behind the Speaker’s Chair. So I went round there to observe and could see no activity whatsoever; clearly not started yet. But it is good he does the executions in the Commons, thus removing from the media ghouls the pleasure of watching the sacked victims marching to the tumbrels up Downing Street and coming out of No. 10 trying to smile with their heads cut off. To the library for a read. Heard that Tony Banks and Glenda Jackson are leaving to fight the mayoral battle, each departure likely to strengthen the government. Then an urgent message from Maggie saying I was summoned to be behind the Speaker’s Chair to see the PM at 8.10 pm. Wandered round there and Bruce Grocott came out to chat. He apologised for the discomfort of sitting in the corridor and went off to arrange for me to sit in the room of the Chancellor’s PPS. Anji Hunter came out and gave me a lovely hug and kiss and said how sorry she was that I am going. Told them they must never do all this nonsense in the future in July, the worst possible month, which allows departments the whole summer to gain control over isolated new ministers. Do it when it suits, and completely unexpectedly, so no media circus. Bruce said that the media had lost interest now that there were no changes in the Cabinet, no bloodbath and Mo and Dobson were staying. Deprived of blood, they were complaining that it was too small a reshuffle. I saw John Sewel standing in an internal corridor looking very down as he awaited the chop. Bruce took me in. Alastair Campbell and Jonathan Powell were in there chatting, exchanged a few friendly words and then left me with the Prime Minister. The room was not the PM’s big room that I knew so well long ago, but a smaller T-shaped one, which I took to be the Chancellor’s room. Blair and I sat on sofas opposite one another, him looking tired with black rings around the eyes. He spread his hands wide and didn’t seem to know what to say, then said, ‘I don’t like this part.’ And then went on to thank me and say, ‘You have done a terrific job there,’ adding, ‘You seem to be very popular in

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the Lords and in the countryside.’ I replied that his government was doing a great job and thanked him for the opportunity to serve in it. He kept smiling and waving his hands appreciatively, but not saying very much. I said I hoped he would soon have a Ministry of Rural Affairs and he said, ‘Yes, we are working hard on that.’ He again expressed thanks, and asked, ‘Anything else?’ He didn’t seem able to end this sad little dance, so I rose, saying, ‘You have much more important things to do than say goodbye to me’, and we shook hands and I went. It was a mainly happy occasion, with me pleased to go; and him clearly relieved that he didn’t have to sack this one. His team had been very friendly. Anji Hunter took me into her waiting room. We gossiped amiably and Anji said ‘We often have vacancies in the Arts; I will look out for you.’ Outside, I met John Prescott going downstairs scowling with a cohort of hangdog aides. Back in the Lords, I ran into first John Gilbert and then John Sewel, both just back from their sackings. I said, ‘We are the three ex-musketeers.’ Gilbert said he was disappointed and clearly, at 73, still had ambition. John looked shattered. ‘Now I have to find a job; I need the money.’ I felt fine and happy to be liberated, to have control of my private life again. But also deep down sad and moved. It is the end of a memorable, public stage in my life. And the real significance is that it is surely the end of my serious working life. The rest will be pleasure and hopefully some fripperies. I will miss the sense of working in the Lords team very much, all the camaraderie and the gossip together. Liz Symons came up to me and said how sorry she was I am going – but ‘You are doing the right thing. Nobody could stand it at MAFF.’ Certainly I won’t miss MAFF (except my private office and some excellent officials like Kate Timms). Off to join Sarah and Graham Greene at the Orangerie for a celebration of my liberty. Outside, at the bottom of St James’s, I said a warm goodbye to my driver Maggie. She had been wonderful, a rare part of MAFF which I would be happy to employ again (together with Peter and Simon and Theresa and Virginia from my private office). Somehow, I felt distracted and tired, now the long wait is over. Curious aspect of this final experience is the total absence of any sense of a farewell from MAFF, for any of the leaving ministers. One departs like leaving from a crowded train journey, off the platform and away. No friendships to take and continue, as I did from No. 10 in May 1979. No word of acknowledgement from the Department that a minister is leaving. (Brown and Packer are certainly glad to see the back of me and presumably hope to get a more amenable replacement who can be better shaped in the MAFF

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culture.) I shall make contact with my private office after the summer to give them a drink. But it is a completely uncivilised process that is bound to leave a bad taste, and completely in line with MAFF’s whole style. They cannot survive long like this.

Thursday 29 July 1999 Wonderful day of freedom at scorching Goodwood. Found my way there this time and I whizzed through the sweeping West Sussex countryside in my old Toyota zoom zoom to arrive by noon. Good lunch with John Brown of William Hill. No winners but good racing. I gave the prize for the best turned-out horse in the big handicap. Left early to be home in time to pack for France. Saw the ministerial changes on the screen. Jeff to Social Security, which he will do well, being a master of detail. Charles Clarke and Pat Hewitt promoted. Joyce Quin to replace me at MAFF (my sympathies to a nice lady there) – and Helene Hayman to replace Jeff. I phoned Helene late at night and she said, ‘I am gobsmacked.’ She did not deserve this. Clearly not too pleased, except she had been rightly promoted to a minister of state. Blair had said he wanted a female and health voice in MAFF, which is not a bad idea. Helene reported that said Joyce Quin very unhappy to be moved from the FCO – and will be doubly so when she finds there is no serious job to do at MAFF – and that Pat Hollis has stolen my wonderful Maggie as a driver. Pat will be rightly unhappy not to be promoted. Poor Elliot Morley is left as a parly under secretary. In all, 13 women were promoted in the reshuffle, which is good since they all deserve it on merit and not on gender. Apparently Blair sacked Alf Dubs at Northern Ireland, and then recalled him when the wished successor would not take it. Good for Alf.

Friday 30 July 1999 Off to France for two weeks. Beautiful Céret in the heat. A delicious supper at the Pyrenees restaurant. We easily settled into our lovely house, with its wonderful views across to Mount Canigou, and our daily routines and rituals. Always sleep deep and well here. Holiday as a free and retired man. I am lucky to have so much that is satisfactory in my personal life. I wonder what the future years hold?

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Index

Aaronovitch, David, 40 accountability, 17, 57, 309 Ackner, Desmond, 220–1 Acland, Antony, 89 Acton, Richard, 299 Adams, Ditto, 59 Adams, Gerry, 82, 310 Adams, Will, 206 Aga Khan (‘K’), 19, 153, 154, 239, 317 Aga Khan, Amyn, 153, 154, 277 Aga Khan, Zahra, 239, 240 agriculture, 10, 12, 18–19, 180, 188, 197, 289, 310 Commons Agriculture Committee, 11, 170 monetary union for agricultural policy, 34 see also EU CAP; MAFF Agriculture Council, 12, 16–17, 32, 33, 43, 44–5, 50–1, 64, 70, 73, 84, 85, 100–103, 162, 295, 300 Agenda 2000: 51, 61, 70, 199, 210, 218, 220, 235, 243 see also EU CAP Agriculture Select Committee, 237–8, 240 agrimonetary compensation, 67, 70 Ahern, Bertie, 7, 30, 47, 53, 56, 63, 134–5, 305 Aitken, Jonathan, 45, 291–2, 300 Aldridge, Alan, 260, 299 Alexander the Great, 60 Alexander, Bob, 298 Alexander, Laidon, 68 Alexander, Stella, 68, 98–9, 173 Alexandra, Princess, 89, 95, 118 Alice in Wonderland, 37 Allen, Alison, 43 Allen, Graham, 15, 43, 151, 182 Allen, Philip, 238 Amsterdam, 166 Anderson, Eric, 44, 47 Anelay, Joyce, 19, 21, 72, 79, 95

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Animal Health Centre/Trust, 111, 119, 159 Anne, Princess Royal, 159, 190, 200, 203, 248 Archer, Jeffrey, 9, 95, 267 Ardingly, South East Country Show, 94 Armstrong, Hilary, 325–6 Armstrong, Robert, 101, 108, 112, 290 Arts, 44, 70, 97, 108, 112, 127, 129, 165 Arts Council, 19, 42, 66 Ascot, 58, 96, 122, 244, 295, 296, 297, 299, 300, 329 Asda, 26 Ashcroft, John, 203 Ashcroft, Michael, 319, 323 Ashdown, Paddy, 175 Ashforth, David, 13 Ashley, Jack, 127 Ashton, Joe, 242 Ashworth, John, 202 Astor, William, 71, 178, 189, 273, 291 Auden, W.H., 146 bacon, 43, 49, 121, 152 Bacon, David, 27–8 badgers, 33, 81, 91, 93, 122, 128, 210, 277, 280 Bainbridge, Beryl, 166, 168 bananas, 16, 21, 64, 100, 229 Banks, Tony, 42, 96, 275, 333 Barnett, Joel, 238, 320 Bassett, Phil, 178, 198–9, 296 Battle, John, 105 Bayley, John, 146 BBC, 4, 18, 20–1, 45, 52, 54, 93, 95, 104, 116, 142, 202, 241, 261, 283 Beaufort, Duke of, 272–3 Beckett, Margaret, 3, 69, 110, 123, 155, 159, 209, 214, 285, 286, 324 Bedford, Deborah, 261 Bedford, Henrietta, 154

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Index Bedford, Michael, 20, 21, 106, 165, 193, 199, 260, 261, 302 beef, 13, 33, 38 the army, 26, 160, 163, 172, 324 Assured Beef Scheme, 11, 26, 28 beef on the bone, 12, 19, 30, 31, 36, 74, 80, 102, 218, 231, 232–3, 265, 267 beef on the bone ban, 11, 12, 21, 36, 43, 45, 65, 72, 74, 91, 94, 95, 104, 172, 179, 181, 184, 231, 232, 320 Northern Ireland, 43, 45 oxtail ban, 30 see also BSE Bell, Alan, 271–2 Bell, Chris, 46, 269 Bell, Stuart, 281 Beloff, Max, 30 Benn, Tony, 37–8, 130, 221, 266 Bennett, Alan, 39–40 Berry, Anthony George, 6 Berry (Clifford-Turner), Sarah, 6 see also Clifford-Turner, Sarah Berry, George, 194, 240, 256, 257, 273 Berry, Sasha, 6, 24, 59, 137, 153, 194, 196, 239, 240, 255, 256, 257 BHB (British Horse Racing Board), 5, 7, 9, 10, 13, 26, 38, 55, 65, 69, 76, 90, 119, 189, 230, 269, 282, 285, 295, 299, 300 The Big Nowhere, 273 Black, Conrad, 217, 311 Blackadder Goes Forth, 159 Blackadders, 250 Blackburn, Alison, 330 Blackpool conference, 147, 148, 151, 152 Blackstone, Tessa, 3, 34, 39, 57, 81, 92, 98, 124, 126, 131, 148, 151, 188, 214, 227, 237, 246, 261, 265, 275, 282, 292, 316, 319, 324, 326, 332 Blair, Cherie, 87, 115, 148, 305 Blair, Tony, 8, 10, 15, 28, 35, 66, 77, 87, 105, 116, 121, 150–1, 213, 227, 234, 269, 291, 305, 316, 326–7, 333–4 answer/recognition from, 6–7, 48, 97 criticism, 14, 20, 22, 36, 42, 47, 49, 84, 88, 93, 117, 217, 280, 281, 289, 309, 312 loyalists, 16, 124 MAFF, 93–4 media, 28, 33, 39, 42, 49, 52, 54, 64, 89, 100, 155, 201, 217, 288, 326 Murdoch, Rupert, 28, 49, 64, 83, 114, 140, 233 neglect of the Commons, 80 Northern Ireland/Ireland conflict, 6, 8, 47, 48, 54, 59, 63, 66, 82–3, 84, 108, 113, 131, 136, 321, 331 overruling ministers, 34–5, 36, 40, 316 popularity, 36, 70, 94, 113, 256, 292

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presidential approach, 88 reshuffle, 89, 92–3, 97, 100, 107, 120, 121, 123–4, 126, 128, 131, 136, 209, 310, 312, 318, 319, 324, 331, 332–3, 335 Scotland, 54–5 strength and weakness, 16, 29, 39, 88, 102, 139 support, 15–16, 68, 88, 309 Treasury, 15 uninterested in the party, 15–16, 22, 29, 30, 75, 88, 112–13 see also Brown, Gordon Blairites, 26 Blakeney, Graham, 284 Bland, Christopher, 52, 54, 93 Blatch, Emily, 87, 92, 106 Blunkett, David, 15, 209, 210, 235, 286, 309, 315, 324 Bohm, Ann, 322 Boothroyd, Betty, 308 Booty, Jill, 274 Bottomley, Virginia, 9 Boulton, Adam, 98 Boutros-Ghali, Boutros, 153 Bragg, Melvyn, 99, 167, 178, 241, 299 Branson, Richard, 224 Breeders, the, 119, 230 Bremner, Rory, 273 British Equine Federation, 230, 278–9 British Museum, 19, 204, 252–3 Brown, Gordon, 11, 16, 20, 22, 24, 28–9, 36, 89, 92, 106, 107, 116, 118, 123, 124, 130, 136, 149–50, 203, 205, 209, 285, 286, 296, 298, 330 Brown/Blair comparison, 11–12, 22, 100, 139, 233 Brown/Blair conflict, 14, 16, 18, 24, 68 budget, 239, 240, 241 criticism, 14 Brown, Nick, 28, 65, 123, 124–5, 126, 128, 129, 131, 133, 135, 143, 147, 148–9, 150, 151, 154–8 passim, 162, 164, 167, 168–70, 175–6, 178, 180–1, 182, 184, 187, 192–3, 197, 200, 209, 210, 216, 224, 226, 227, 235, 243–4, 249, 260, 261, 265, 283, 285, 289, 290, 296–7, 303, 307, 314, 327, 334–5 MAFF, exclusion by Brown, 157, 158, 159–60, 161, 162, 164–5, 166–7, 170, 171, 184, 192, 199, 200, 201, 204, 211, 249, 259–60, 285, 289–90, 294–5, 303, 310, 319, 323 Browne-Wilkinson, Nico, 314 Browning, Helen, 132 Brussels, 13–14, 17–18, 21, 30, 31, 32, 41, 43, 44, 46, 50, 52, 55, 61, 74, 83, 84, 91, 148, 155, 164, 171, 181, 185, 189–90, 193, 204, 210, 215, 221, 235, 241, 259, 287 see also EU

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BSE (‘mad cow disease’), 19, 23, 43, 104, 118, 131, 159, 172, 216, 286, 320 see also beef; meat Burden, Richard, 260 bureaucracy, 19, 42, 66, 144, 215 Burlison, Tom, 290 Burnham, Hugh, 96 Burns, Terry, 8 Burton, Christina, 112 Butler, David, 40 Butler, Jill, 57, 217 Butler, Robin, 8–9, 41, 57, 58, 99, 101, 128, 166, 242 Byers, Stephen, 194, 209 Cadbury, Dominic, 205 Call of the Wild, 197 Callaghan, Jim (James), 11, 14, 22, 32–3, 38, 49, 52, 81, 82, 97, 114, 115, 120, 125, 127, 129, 130–1, 150, 179–80, 208, 210, 247, 248, 265, 280, 300 Callaghan, Margaret, 22, 130 Callaghan, Mike, 130 Calman, Kenneth, 71 Cambridge, 170, 194 Cameron, Euan, 307 Camoys, Tom, 217 Campbell, Alastair, 6–7, 15, 20, 54, 83, 97, 115, 124, 129, 181, 182, 188, 197, 198, 203, 227, 280, 326, 327, 333 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, 132 Carden, Richard, 94, 105, 111, 166, 258 Carlton, Hyatt, 186 Carnarvon, Henry, 26, 56, 155, 162, 179, 186, 217, 222, 239, 240, 251, 275, 306, 310 Carnarvon, Jeannie, 26, 56, 162, 222, 239, 240, 310 Carrier, John, 99, 114 Carter, Denis, 12, 23, 66, 75, 92, 93, 125, 128, 129, 147, 158, 162, 171, 184, 189, 192–3, 198, 201, 206, 212, 225, 227, 228, 229, 276, 278, 299, 304, 308, 319, 321 Carter, Jimmy, 15 Carter, Teresa, 308 Cartland, Barbara, 277 Casablanca, 195 Castle, Barbara, 129, 130, 167 casual labour for fruit and horticulture, 12, 39 Catholicism, 40, 45, 47, 59, 78, 83, 96, 98, 99, 113, 130, 178, 181, 220, 301, 305, 312, 318 Cavendish, Hugh, 274 Céret, 84, 85, 132–3, 137, 255, 287–8, 306, 335 Challis, Christine, 259, 322 Chamberlain, Joe, 82 Chandos, Tom, 19 Channon, Ingrid, 109, 118, 239, 277, 300

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Channon, Paul, 118, 239, 277, 300–301 Chapman, Jill, 287–8 Chapman Pincher, Harry, 146, 232 Chapman, Robin, 287 Charles, Prince of Wales, 162, 233, 290, 319 Chevening, 212, 309, 310 Chickenshed, 27–8 Churchill, Winston, 183, 197, 220, 251, 285, 288 Citizen Kane, 196 civil service, 183, 217, 241, 325, 326 civil servants, 12, 29, 32, 90, 101, 105, 124–5, 155, 159, 167, 178, 179, 187, 230, 309, 315, 325, 326 Civil Service Department, 216 Clark, Alan, 302 Clarke, Charles, 270, 281, 335 Clarke, David, 105, 123 Clarke, Ken, 183 Clarke, Tom, 42, 108, 124, 125 Claydon, Michael, 125 Clayton, Michael, 203, 235, 272, 278–9 Clifford-Turner, Sarah, 28, 19, 24, 31, 33, 34, 36, 41, 43, 45, 47, 49, 50, 57, 76, 80, 89, 91, 94, 96, 97, 98, 99, 103, 104, 111, 121, 127, 130, 132, 137, 146, 153, 154, 190, 193, 194, 196, 204, 210, 217, 220, 222, 223, 233, 236, 246, 253, 255, 264, 270, 272, 277, 279, 282, 286, 298, 300, 301, 308, 311, 314, 315, 316–17, 318, 320–1, 332, 334 birthday, 42, 229, 238–40 Clinton, Bill, 22, 139, 145, 170, 192 Clinton/Lewinsky sex scandal, 20, 134, 142 Clinton, Hillary, 139 Cobham, Penny, 95 Cocks, Michael, 129 Coe, Sebastian, 314 Collins, Michael, 59 Colnbrook, Humphrey, 233 Colnbrook, Maggie, 233 Colwyn, Tony, 110 computer-related issues, 211 Brown, Nick: computer scandal, 180–2, 192 ‘Millennium Bug’, 23, 39, 52, 69, 110, 235, 236–7, 240, 258, 285, 324 Conservatives, see Tories Cook, Margaret, 7, 212 Cook, Robin, 7, 14, 17, 19, 22, 24, 29, 35, 75, 76, 96, 153, 168, 210, 212, 229, 310 Cope, John, 295 Cormack, Patrick, 308 Cornwall, 84, 90, 137, 146, 186, 196, 253, 255–7, 314, 328–9 Royal Cornwall show, 90 Corston, Jean, 150 Country Landowners, 53, 54, 55

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Index countryside, 10, 38, 49, 135–6, 187, 306, 313, 316, 334 countryside rally, 13, 25, 26, 36, 37, 38, 49 Labour Party, 18, 25 New Countryside, 29, 56 Old Countryside, 29 Cowdrey, Colin, 11 Cranborne, Lord (Robert Gascoyne-Cecil), 96, 160, 188–9, 218, 275, 296, 302 cricket, 9, 27, 38, 43, 44, 58, 99, 206, 273, 301 cronyism, 45, 93, 112, 113 Crosland, Susan, 112, 314 cross-party politics, 12, 15 Crossman, Richard, 246 Cullen, William Douglas, 47 Culture Department, 41, 113, 125, 179 Cunningham, Jack, 3, 10, 11, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 22, 26, 29, 32–3, 35, 36, 43, 45, 51, 56–7, 64, 67, 70, 72, 74, 77, 79, 84–5, 89, 93–4, 95, 100, 101–104, 107, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118–19, 120, 122, 123, 126–7, 150, 156, 158, 161, 164, 171, 172, 177, 181–2, 191, 199, 201, 204–205, 208, 211, 213, 216, 224, 229, 283–4, 286, 313, 315, 318, 324, 325 Currie, Don, 171, 320 Currie, Edwina, 172, 202 Dacre, Paul, 192 Dad’s Army, 246 Dahlia, 260 Dahrendorf, Ellen, 228 Dahrendorf, Ralf, 81–2, 155, 204, 228, 264, 302 Daily Herald, 119 Daily Mail, 13, 19, 33, 71, 111, 163, 179, 280, 287, 192, 198, 222, 238, 262, 277, 283, 326 Daily Telegraph, 202 dairy-related issues, 31, 38, 91, 111 cheese, 24, 38–9, 43, 74, 152, 225, 285, 287, 329 milk, 24, 68, 216, 270, 281, 320 Darling, Alistair, 164, 227, 303 Dashwood, Francis, 89, 207 David, Nora, 243 Davies, Garfield, 156–7 Davies, Gavin, 233 Davies, Hunter, 99 Davies, Richard, 238 Davies, Ron, 165 De Gaulle, Charles, 17 Dean, Brenda, 167, 203 Dean, Joe, 119, 120, 232 Deedes, Jeremy, 311 Della, private assistant, 12, 49, 58, 68, 189, 205 Dempster, Nigel, 58–9, 268 Devonshire, Duke of (Andrew), 55, 96, 282, 315 Dewar, Donald, 28, 55, 120, 124, 175, 177, 209, 218

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Dibdin, Michael, 163 Dickens, Charles, 133, 137, 162 diesel, 55, 92, 116, 130, 149, 241 Dobson, Frank, 15, 81, 105, 120, 161, 166, 175, 177, 210, 303, 333 dog quarantine, 18, 34, 42, 43, 61, 83, 92, 97, 107, 117, 131, 135, 151, 147, 168, 169, 205, 209, 230, 235, 241, 243–4, 246, 248, 249, 251, 270, 274, 275, 277, 286, 293, 294–5, 296–7, 298, 300, 303, 316 Kennedy Quarantine Committee, 245–6, 291, 293 Donaldson, Jeffrey, 77, 82 Donoughue, Bernard, 4, 5, 53 books, 44, 86, 133, 163, 195, 243, 252, 255, 278, 304 Catholicism/religion, 40, 45, 49, 78, 130 cowboy films, 138 criticism, 36 divorce, 98 friends, 78, 86, 98–9, 173, 221, 240, 242 home-related issues, 13, 47, 58, 60, 78, 147 influence of, 6, 11, 52 Sarah, 98–9, 130, 163, 173, 186, 248 a vegetarian, 36, 41, 43, 46, 47, 320 see also MAFF and Donoughue Donoughue, Bernard: health related issues, 39, 116, 169, 174, 196, 264, 267, 269, 271, 273 arthritis, 38, 46 diabetes, 22, 23, 27, 30, 31, 33, 38, 40, 196, 223 Donoughue, Bernard: writings, 291 diary, 13, 20, 39–40, 47, 53, 66, 73, 86, 98, 104, 116, 127, 164, 207, 232, 263, 301, 323 Downing Street Diaries, 166 Prime Minister, 125, 150 Donoughue, Clem (Donoughue’s brother), 39, 173, 194, 315 Donoughue, Kate (Donoughue’s daughter), 41, 44, 78, 116, 137, 194 Donoughue, Molly (Donoughue’s sister), 20 Donoughue, Paul (Donoughue’s son), 12, 59, 69, 78, 136, 137, 194, 210, 214, 239 Donoughue, Rachel (Donoughue’s daughter), 41, 78, 116, 194 Donoughue, Stephen (Donoughue’s son), 8, 12, 73, 78, 134, 137, 151, 194, 214, 235, 244 Dorneywood, 285 DTI (Department of Trade and Industry), 105, 155, 270, 284, 306 DTI Maxwell report, 13, 68, 111, 203, 208 Dubai, 42, 49–50, 238 Dubs, Alf (Alfred), 12, 14, 16, 29, 45, 61, 62, 63, 106, 116, 175, 177, 211, 245, 263, 296, 299, 321, 331, 335

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Dudley, Billy, 280 Duffield, Vivien, 112, 178–9 Duffy, Terry, 150 Eagle, Angela, 39, 221 Easterby, Roger, 182–3, 297 Economic Affairs Committee, 209–10, 286, 296 Economist, 228, 311 education, 52, 66, 87, 90, 92, 114, 206, 286 Education Department, 124, 126, 235, 237, 270, 309, 324 election, 6–7, 15, 21, 28, 40, 52, 70, 327, 331 European elections, 294 local elections, 273 Elizabeth II, Queen, 56, 91, 155–6, 182, 273 Queens Speech, 181 Elwes, Nigel, 119 Ely, 317 Enduring Love, 166 environment, 5, 10, 40, 70, 74, 87, 126, 226 Environmental Health Service, 112 environmental issues, 16, 135, 156, 198, 212, 234 renewable energy crops, 105–106 Estonia, 143–5 EU (European Union), 4, 27, 73, 144, 145, 188, 204, 215, 221, 237, 265, 294, 298, 302 criticism, 86, 155 democratic accountability, 17 EU enlargement, 51 EU Parliament, 210 EU tobacco regime, 32 UK Commissioner to the EU, 67 UK out of the EU, 17–18, 204, 235 UK Presidency, 13, 17, 35, 41, 103, 104 see also Agriculture Council; Brussels; Euro EU CAP (Common Agricultural Policy), 12, 18, 38, 51–2, 54, 74, 100, 115, 144, 241, 261, 287, 313 green pound/strong pound, 67, 70 Reform, 17, 37, 50, 52, 53, 55, 79, 84, 100, 103, 210, 218, 222, 261, 264, 265 see also Agriculture Council Euro, 106, 107, 197, 233, 294, 298, 302, 309, 318 European Monetary Union, 34, 76 single currency, 34, 52, 121 Evans, Ben, 3 Evans, Harry, 168, 279 Evening Standard, 36, 43, 74, 94 Exmoor, 4, 10, 184 Express, 80, 88, 114, 155, 181, 192, 245, 293 Eyre, Richard, 112

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Faith, Adam, 80–1, 92 Falconer, Charlie, 123, 124, 125, 127, 150, 164–5, 198, 205, 213, 233–4, 286, 309 Falkland, Lucius, 221, 231, 252, 263, 271, 276, 299 the Faringdons, 69 farmers, 25, 34, 37, 52, 66, 74, 75, 90, 92, 95, 112, 157, 187, 218, 293 aid to, 178 anger of, 4, 5, 32, 53, 111, 149, 151–2 co-operatives, 67, 87, 106 Tory farmers, 10, 91, 135 farming, 5, 34, 74, 135, 165, 226, 269, 307 farm safety, 138, 187–8, 249 organic farming, 23, 55, 69, 87, 88, 115, 117, 132, 156, 200, 266, 270 renewable energy crops, 105–106 subsidy, 4, 11, 18, 23, 25, 26, 28, 36, 53, 64, 68, 74, 86–7, 112, 144, 215 Fawlty Towers, 41, 87, 201 FCO (Foreign and Commonwealth Office), 46, 75, 76, 81, 126, 128, 188, 190, 203, 265, 266, 290, 292, 335 Fellowes, Robert, 216–17, 222 Ferrers, Earl, 19 Field, Frank, 23, 28, 80, 123–4, 126 Financial Times, 160, 287 First Steps Agency, 175–6 Fischler, Franz, 33, 43, 51, 64, 94, 102, 103 Fisher, Mark, 42, 108, 117, 125, 312 fishing, 23, 77, 97–8, 114, 198, 256, 283, 298–9 Fitt, Gerry, 320 Flanagan, Father, 7, 20, 27, 44, 48, 69, 78, 104, 113, 117, 163, 181, 192, 194, 232, 243, 263, 268–9, 278, 284, 310, 323 see also mass floods, 3, 58, 60, 71, 76, 163, 272 Food From Britain, 80, 205 food-related issues, 36, 38, 52, 80, 86, 95, 98, 116, 122, 135, 156, 165–6, 169, 174, 184, 204, 220, 303, 314 food aid, 141, 143, 145 Food Safety Committee, 191 tin poisoning, 289 see also beef; FSA; meat Fookes, Janet, 169 Foot, Michael, 11, 198, 300 Foot, Paul, 154 Forte, Charles, 331 Foster, Michael, 44, 87 Fowler, Gerry, 282 Fox, Liam, 214–15 Fox’s Walk, 5, 53, 58, 86, 99, 133, 147, 154, 163, 201, 225, 226, 257, 272, 310 Francis, Mary, 216–17

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Index Franklin, Dan, 166 Fraser, Antonia, 319 the Fretwells, 277 FSA (Food Standards Agency), 36, 72, 74, 93, 135, 164, 166, 167, 172, 175–8, 180, 185, 188, 191, 210, 215, 283 see also food-related issues Furst, Alan, 260 Gaitskell, Hugh, 150, 152, 208, 233, 246–7 gambling, 29 Game Fair, 120, 121, 332 gangmasters, 12, 39, 71, 89, 92, 93, 330 Garel-Jones, Tristan, 218, 332 Gascoigne, Bamber, 314 Gastineau, Marie-Helene, 261 GCS (government car service), 105, 107–108, 184, 185, 188, 312–13 Giddens, Anthony, 81, 259, 264, 322 Gilbert, John, 110–11, 126, 129, 263, 266–7, 278, 289, 334 Gill, Ben, 25, 48, 66, 109, 157, 186 Giscard d’Estaing, Valéry, 153 glitterati, 90, 92, 99, 106, 113, 167, 299 GMs (genetically modified crops), 10, 222–8, 230, 231, 233, 234, 235, 236, 259, 277, 283, 286 Godsall, Alan, 69 Golding, John, 150 Gone with the Wind, 195 Goodlad, Alastair, 282 Goodman, Arnold, 206 Goodman, Elinor, 49 Gordon, David, 228 Goudie, Mary, 178 Gould, Joyce, 288 Gould, Philip, 87 Graham, Andrew, 149, 150, 185, 304, 319 Graham, Nori, 99, 254 Graham, Philip, 99, 254 Grantchester, John, 18 Gray, Gilbert, 25 Great Expectations, 162 Greatrex, Tom, 297 green belt, 36 Green, Michael, 260–1 Greene, Graham, 3, 19, 43, 49, 65, 97, 117, 125, 141, 204, 240, 244, 252–3, 282, 298, 334 Greens, 11, 76, 106, 120, 156, 226 Griffiths, Nigel, 121 Grimley, Peter, 3–4, 7, 14, 16, 35, 37, 71, 79, 92, 97, 105, 107, 164, 171, 172, 173, 184, 188, 193, 199, 200, 216, 234, 334 Grocer magazine, 38 Grocott, Bruce, 29, 30, 96, 113, 333

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Gross, John, 109, 110, 112, 148 Guardian, 45, 76, 95, 119, 120, 168, 234–5, 292 Guild of Food Writers, 230 Guilder, 24, 31, 32, 39, 40, 62, 158, 159, 172, 186, 209, 214, 236, 241, 242 The Gunpowder Plot, 267 Hague, William, 68, 110, 183, 184, 188–9, 215, 218, 228, 233, 240, 266, 275, 302, 314, 319 Haines, Joe, 6–7, 9, 25, 49, 53, 91, 98, 138, 149, 154, 182, 191, 197, 231, 293, 327 Halifax, Ernie, 96 Halsey, Chelly, 41 Hampstead Heath, 72, 314 Hardie, Jeremy, 185 Harman, Harriet, 123, 164 Harmsworth, Jonathan, 277 Harris, Ralph, 251 Hart, Gary, 127 Hartington, Stoker, 96 Harvey, John, 92 Haskell, Simon, 239, 281, 288 Hayman, Helene, 118, 123, 125, 126, 131, 149, 177, 213, 227, 326, 335 Healey, Denis, 14, 52, 116, 129, 150, 179–80, 210, 233, 304 Health Department, 14, 56, 71, 86, 89, 94, 105, 112, 123, 130, 131, 171–2, 177, 237, 270 health bill, 233 ‘Risk in Health’, 189 Heart of Darkness, 132 Heath, Ted, 8, 9, 89, 221 Henderson, Doug, 19 Hendry, David, 40 Heseltine, Anne, 13, 23, 37, 183, 184, 239, 311, 312 Heseltine, Michael, 13, 23, 37, 80, 108, 109–10, 183–4, 239, 297–8, 311, 312–13 the Heskeths, 253–4 Hess, Rudolf, 42 Hewitt, Patricia, 149, 335, 188 Higgins, Andrew, 18, 34, 42, 92, 107, 111, 119, 125, 159, 190, 203, 245–6, 248, 264, 272, 293, 295, 302, 320 Hill, David, 108 Hill, William, 155, 190, 332, 335 Hoey, Kate, 38, 44, 152, 221, 319 Holden, Anthony, 168 Hollick, Clive, 3, 19, 39, 77, 83, 88, 96, 113, 140, 155, 160, 166, 233, 274 Hollick, Sue, 3, 39 Hollis, Patricia, 28, 43, 98, 120, 123–4, 126, 149, 164, 213, 222, 227, 292, 309 Holme, Richard, 260 homosexual age of consent, 119–20, 213, 258–9

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Honey (Jack Russell terrier), 5, 13, 31, 34, 41, 66, 72, 76, 78, 83, 86, 92, 96, 104, 109, 112, 121, 133, 138, 141, 163, 173, 190–7 passim, 206, 207, 209, 211, 223, 230, 232, 239, 240, 245, 255, 257, 263, 269, 274, 279–80, 288, 293, 301 Hoon, Geoff, 221 horse, 200, 201, 203, 264 Horse Federation, 248 Horse industry, 133, 189, 193, 198, 200, 203, 216, 228, 230, 234, 235, 244, 270, 275, 276, 278–9 Ministry of the Horse, 64, 79, 91, 100, 119, 133, 135, 216, 278, 293, 307 see also racing Horse and Hound, 293 horticulture, 12, 39, 53, 65, 71, 169, 170, 285 House of Commons, 29, 33, 49, 119, 122, 140, 168, 184, 198, 306 House of Lords, 18–19, 20, 21, 22, 28, 54, 69, 75–6, 87, 92, 95, 96, 98, 105, 107, 111, 116, 119, 125, 126, 129, 140, 168, 175, 201, 212, 234, 270, 298, 315, 328 Lords procedure, 214, 221 reform of, 10, 20, 23, 77, 87, 106, 128, 131, 147, 154, 161, 162, 188, 198–9, 201, 205, 206, 210–11, 213, 214–15, 218, 224–5, 229, 242, 249, 250–2, 257, 259, 260, 261–3, 265, 267, 274, 275–6, 278, 280, 290, 295, 296, 302, 307, 310, 322, 331, 332 Tories, 18–19, 21, 160, 175, 180, 188–9, 214–15, 249, 250, 252, 257, 275, 278, 281, 282, 302, 307 Weatherill amendment, 251, 257, 262–3, 266, 274, 275, 281, 282 see also peers housing, 36, 309 How Green was my Valley, 193, 194, 195 Howarth, Alan, 166 Howarth, George, 65, 76, 234–5, 274, 285, 296, 324 Howe, Elspeth, 109, 202, 320 Howe, Freddie, 189, 222 Howe, Geoffrey, 9, 110, 202, 283, 320 Howell, Denis, 64, 68 Hoyle, Doug, 214 Hughes, Rob, 274 Hughes, Ted, 210 human rights, 27, 28, 33 Hume, Basil, Cardinal, 83, 95–6, 259, 291, 300, 302, 304–305, 306 Hume, John, 7 Hunt, John, 9 Hunter, Anji, 54, 108, 327, 332, 334 hunting, 167, 272–3, 319, 320 anti-hunting bill, 44, 87 Countryside hunting rally, 25, 26, 36 hunting ban, 12, 314, 315, 316, 321

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Huntingdon, William, 155–6, 311 Hurd, Douglas, 75, 166 Hussein, Saddam, 9, 192 Hutton, Will, 40 Ingleby-Mackenzie, Colin, 38, 58, 99, 127, 181, 240 Ingleby-Mackenzie, Susan, 38, 58, 76, 127, 240 Inglewood, Richard, 67, 249 International Milling Conference, 80 The Invention of Love, 65 IRA (Irish Republican Army), 5, 48, 77, 113, 134, 139, 263, 310, 320, 321 Iraq, 9, 175, 176, 177, 192, 211 Ireland, 9, 22, 30, 37, 59, 61–3, 72, 79, 88, 211, 223, 263, 321–2, 331–2 cross-border cooperation, 45, 47–8, 53, 59 Peace negotiations, 45, 310 see also Northern Ireland Irish Republic, 7 Irvine, Derry, 8, 9, 15, 26–7, 28, 33, 34, 39, 57, 77, 127, 188, 275, 303, 330 ISA (Individual Savings Account), 6, 9, 11, 29, 48, 55, 149 Jackson, Glenda, 324, 333 Japan, 173–4 Jay, Audrey, 24 Jay, Margaret, 11, 23–4, 28, 52, 54, 60, 71, 72, 76, 81, 93, 94, 98, 105, 107, 114, 123, 128, 129, 131, 140, 146, 147–8, 156, 160, 162, 163, 171, 178, 182, 188, 198, 201, 205, 206, 210–11, 213, 214, 224–5, 227–8, 229, 230–1, 240, 242–3, 245, 249, 250, 251, 257, 261, 262, 265, 274, 275, 290, 303, 304, 309, 310, 315, 316, 319, 320, 326, 327, 328, 330, 331, 332, 333 Jay, Sylvia, 153, 287 Jenkins, Graham, 260 Jenkins, Roy, 32–3, 40, 64, 120, 130, 149, 150, 155, 175, 197, 266 Jockey Club, 49, 65, 69, 300 John, Geoffrey, 205 John Lewis, 24, 308 Johnson, Derek, 237 Johnson, Paul, 78, 83, 196 Jones, Allen, 49, 282, 292, 298, 323, 329 Jones, Deirdre, 282 Jones, George, 282, 322 Jones, Liz, 72 Jones, Peter, 72 Jowell, Tessa, 36, 71, 166, 172, 175, 177, 189, 221, 227, 270, 281, 325–6 Julius Caesar, 78 Kelly, Tom, 269 Kennedy, Charles, 171

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Index Kennedy, Helena, 28 Kennedy, Ian, 18 Kent, 25, 212 Kentish Fare, 25–6 Kerr, John, 126, 128, 292 Key, Robert, 71 Kilfoyle, Peter, 15, 96–7, 107, 108, 296, 324 Kimball, Marcus, 10, 12, 21, 55 King, Tom, 109 Kinnock, Glenys, 21 Kinnock, Neil, 33, 97, 124, 126, 150, 208, 265 Kirkham, Graham, 159 Korn, Daniel, 111 Kosovo, 211, 249–50, 253, 254, 272, 291 Labour Party, 8, 11, 119, 120, 213, 233–4, 273 Labour politics, 15, 16, 19, 77–8, 85 Tory/Labour government ­comparison, 14 see also New Labour; Old Labour Ladbrokes/Coral bookmaking merger, 3 lamb/sheep, 74, 108, 131, 160, 163, 183, 185, 295, 298–9 Lankester, Tim, 101 Lapsley, Angus, 198, 211 Laurie, Corinne, 148, 314 Lawson, Nigel, 277 Lawson, Therese, 277 Layard, Richard, 228 Lebrecht, Andy, 12, 32, 41, 43, 103, 218 Lee, Jennie, 43 Lees-Milne, James Henry, 219–20, 279 Left, 64, 109, 149, 154, 233–4, 263, 264, 326 Leighton, John, 293 Leonard, Elmore, 132, 161 Liberal Democrats, 27, 149, 168, 171, 175, 198, 201, 245, 252, 275, 276, 295 liberalism, 11, 85 Liddell, Helen, 11, 13, 15, 16, 24, 55, 68, 81, 107, 111, 113, 124, 326 Lindsay, Jamie, 11 Lipsey, David, 242, 301 Little People, 4 Lloyd, Liz, 11, 18, 56–7, 74, 76, 97, 108, 167, 184, 235, 276, 293, 294, 296, 314 Lockwood, Betty, 288 London Arts Board, 28, 263 Longford, Frank, 130–1, 206, 219, 246–7, 264, 305 loyalty, 16, 29, 61, 167, 207 loyalists, 16, 59, 124 Loyola de Palacio, Ignacia, 17, 18, 45, 51, 73, 74, 101, 102, 103, 127 LSE (London School of Economics), 40, 81, 116, 155, 168, 216, 228, 251, 259, 264, 271, 282, 302, 322, 326 Luxembourg, 32, 45, 63, 64, 74, 100, 104

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M&S (Marks and Spencer), 246, 251, 289 Macauley, Sarah, 116, 330 Maclean, Murdo, 129 Macdonald, Gus, 158, 310 MacFadden, Pat, 198 Macintosh, Andrew, 11, 29, 125, 126, 131, 322, 333 Macintyre, Don, 291 Mackay, John, 97 MacKenzie, Kelvin, 19 Macnally, Tom, 28, 129, 130 Maddox, Bronwen, 291 MAFF (Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food), 5, 12, 51, 70, 131, 183, 334–5 achievements, 45, 52, 73, 115 bankruptcy, 246 budget, 35, 57, 108, 114–15, 176, 231, 249, 270, 283 changing the name, 19 criticism, 20, 37, 62, 63, 66, 100, 118–19, 152, 202, 217, 307, 328 DNH/Department where Nothing Happens, 7 future of, 3, 25, 74, 94, 97, 135, 296, 318 malfunctioning of, 21–2, 24, 37, 41, 51, 56–7, 61, 67, 80, 87, 91–2, 95, 156, 157–8, 164, 171–2, 174, 176, 186–7, 197, 213, 236, 258, 270, 307, 310, 334–5 ministers at, 4, 10, 18, 22, 55, 57, 61, 68, 92, 95, 100, 124, 143, 157–8, 167, 171, 187, 188, 199, 205–206, 277 ministry of the horse, 79, 91, 100, 133, 135, 216, 278, 307 ministry for racing and the horse, 64 press department, 18, 34, 101, 128, 129, 131, 187, 259–60, 270, 284 reshuffle, 18, 41, 55, 58, 61, 77, 89, 100, 101, 107, 114, 118, 120, 122, 167, 324, 327 rural dimension/policy, 25, 29, 40, 56, 74, 76, 100, 114, 135 salaries, 37, 46, 94, 170, 187, 258 website, 21, 22–3 see also agriculture MAFF and Donoughue: Donoughue as minister, 4, 5, 7, 10, 14, 25, 38, 41, 54, 55, 68, 71, 91–2, 107–108, 127, 163, 172, 216, 254, 269, 302, 315, 323 exclusion by Nick Brown, 157, 158, 159–60, 161, 162, 164–5, 166–7, 170, 171, 184, 192, 199, 200, 201, 204, 211, 249, 259–60, 285, 289–90, 294–5, 303, 310, 319, 323 last week in office, 318, 323, 324, 329, 332–4 media, 13, 37, 38, 43, 45, 48, 92, 93, 104, 111, 116, 121, 146, 187, 202, 215–16, 220–1, 222, 224, 232, 237–8, 293

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PQ, 43, 58, 72, 76, 104–105, 115, 117, 119, 165, 177, 179, 200, 201, 209, 211, 222, 223, 226–7, 230, 231, 232–3, 243, 259, 264, 270, 278–9, 280, 298–9, 308 recognition, 6–7, 22 regional visits, 90–1, 92, 218, 249, 303, 329 resignation, 38, 48, 57, 58, 92, 94, 110, 127, 154–5, 157, 166, 198, 201, 204, 214 resignation letter, 207–209, 211, 215, 251, 327 see also Donoughue, Bernard; MAFF Magnier, John, 300 Maitland, Alison, 39 Major, John, 8, 9, 49, 202, 217, 319 Mallalieu, Ann, 10, 25, 38, 44, 87, 92, 152, 220, 279–80, 312, 319 Malone, john, 299–300 Mandelson, Peter, 6, 9, 16, 22, 26, 28, 29, 89, 97, 113, 116, 122, 123, 124, 140, 155, 160, 166, 179, 193–4, 195, 197, 199, 216, 224, 291, 327, 328 Mar, Margaret, 76, 104–105, 115, 185, 241, 259, 308, 327 March, Charles, 273 Marchessini, Demetri, 239 Mardell, Mark, 18 Margaret, Princess, 154 Marlborough, Sunny, 268 Marlesford, Mark, 19, 128, 218, 249, 260, 297 Marsh, Dick, 231, 331 mass, 7, 20, 24, 27, 41, 44, 59, 69, 78, 83, 99, 104, 117, 163, 181, 192, 194, 219, 232, 243, 263, 268, 284, 305, 323 see also Flanagan, Father Mather, Graham, 40 Maudling, Reggie, 300 Maxwell, Ian, 285 Maxwell, Kevin, 285 Maxwell, Robert, 9, 48, 55, 109, 114, 154, 198, 203, 206, 208, 258 DTI Maxwell report, 13, 68, 111, 203, 208 McEwan, Ian, 166 McGlynn, Cathy, 3, 56, 61, 100, 101, 123, 127, 178, 298 McGuinness, Martin, 8, 25, 38, 44, 87, 92, 152, 220, 223, 279–80, 319 McNamara, Pat, 290 McNicol, Iain, 121 Meacher, Michael, 36, 37–8, 226, 283, 323 meat, 160, 163, 169, 241, 243, 250–1, 258, 278, 324 abattoir, 237, 246, 250–1, 258, 259, 263, 264, 286, 308, 313, 319, 328 the army, 26, 108, 160, 163, 172, 183, 324 Meat Hygiene Service, 327 SRM/specified risk materials, 43, 51 see also bacon; beef; BSE; lamb/sheep

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media, 4–5, 8, 16, 20, 22, 27, 34, 41, 88, 221, 224, 226, 320, 333 Blair, Tony, 28, 33, 39, 42, 49, 52, 54, 64, 89, 100, 155, 201, 217, 288, 326 Donoughue, Bernard, 13, 37, 38, 43, 45, 48, 92, 93, 104, 111, 116, 121, 146, 187, 202, 215–16, 220–1, 222, 224, 232, 237–8, 293 ‘media, not ministers, run the show’, 33 No. 10: 74, 77–8, 103, 178 unpleasant and malevolent, 41, 43, 48, 71, 75, 86, 103, 111, 142, 161, 179, 191, 202, 217, 260–1, 287, 300 see also BBC; Daily Mail; Evening Standard; Mail; Mirror; Telegraph; The Times; Sunday Times Mellor, David, 95 Memoirs of an Infantry Officer, 50 Metcalf, David, 242 Michael, Princess of Kent, 305 Middle Temple Hall, 8, 9 Miliband, David, 15, 40, 41, 48, 151, 326, 328 Miller, Max, 182 Ministry of Rural Affairs, 3, 67, 72, 79, 85, 204, 334 Mirror, 19, 30, 71, 83, 88, 96, 114, 154, 155, 209, 224 Mitchell, Austin, 87 Molyneux, Jim, 11, 35, 77, 82, 83, 106 Monkswell, Gerry, 127 Montgomery, David, 5, 6, 7, 8, 11, 13, 19, 30, 35, 37, 45, 47–8, 53, 54–5, 57, 66, 71, 83, 88, 114, 139, 155, 209, 211, 223, 224, 288, 331–2 Montgomery, Sophie, 11, 57, 224 Moore, Charles, 83 Morgan, Sally, 151, 198, 332 MORI poll, 94, 109 Morley, Elliot, 3, 33, 91, 151, 158, 159–60, 170, 179, 181, 184 184, 198, 199, 200, 204, 206, 211, 230, 236, 257, 260, 277, 278, 283, 294, 298, 324 335 Morris, Alf, 127 Morrison, Herbert, 22, 209 Mortimer, Penny, 87, 152 the Mortimers, 38 Moser, Claus, 3, 112, 117, 228, 252–3, 280 Moser, Mary, 3, 228 Mowlam, Mo (Marjorie), 5, 8, 13, 15, 22, 35, 54, 60, 72, 77, 82–3, 136, 175, 221, 321, 326, 331, 332, 333 Mullin, Chris, 149, 221 Murdoch, Iris, 146 Murdoch, Rupert, 27, 71, 111, 114, 140, 161, 183 Blair, Tony, 28, 49, 64, 83, 114, 140, 233 iron grip on New Labour, 64

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Index Naish, David, 26 National Savings, 29, 48 National Trust, 4, 219, 285 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization), 111, 269, 280 Naughtie, James, 34 networking, 11, 41, 78, 320 New Labour, 4, 33, 42, 47, 55, 66, 74, 82, 100, 112, 113, 126, 129, 149, 161, 183, 205, 208, 221, 233, 263, 264, 266, 280, 296, 299, 306, 326 Murdoch, Rupert, 64 New Labour politics, 327 Third Way, 81–2, 97, 264 New Statesman, 26, 131 Newcastle, 11, 34, 37, 73, 74, 290 Newmarket, 69, 72, 111, 190, 268, 314 News of the World, 13, 176, 191 newspaper, 4, 26, 36, 83, 96, 132, 159, 161, 192, 196, 203, 215, 217 see also media NFU (National Farmers Union), 4–5, 10, 25, 26, 35, 39, 48, 66, 70, 89, 90, 109, 138, 147, 149, 157, 168, 186, 187, 204, 215 NHS (National Health Service), 14, 66, 98, 114, 161 Nicholas Nickleby, 137, 139 Nicholl, Steve, 40 Nicholls, Patrick, 165 No. 10: 14, 20, 35–6, 107, 108, 115 criticism, 48, 49, 84, 93, 314 exclusion from, 88, 160 media, 74, 77–8, 103, 178 staff, 7, 30 unstructured, 26, 29–30 No. 10 Policy Unit, 10, 15, 40, 56, 74, 114, 149, 185, 208, 233, 301, 304, 319 Norfolk, 316–18 Norfolk, Miles, 291 Norman, Archie, 26 Northern Ireland, 5, 12, 35, 211, 311, 331 beef on the bone ban, 43, 45 Blair, Tony, 6, 8, 47, 48, 54, 59, 63, 66, 82–3, 84, 108, 113, 131, 136, 321, 331 Good Friday Agreement, 59, 60, 63, 67, 321 peace settlement, 6, 47–8, 320, 321–2 terrorism, 5–6, 113, 133, 136 see also Ireland Northumberland, Duke of, 73–4 Northumbria, 73 NUT (National Union of Teachers), 52 Oakeshott, Matthew, 40 OBE (Officer of the Order of the British Empire), 118–19 Oborne, Peter, 80, 245, 293

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O’Brian, Patrick, 49, 58, 60, 85, 86, 132–3, 152, 163, 252 O’Brien, Aidan, 134, 317 O’Brien, Vincent, 96 Observer, 215 Odone, Cristina, 178 Ogilvy, Angus, 26, 89, 118, 199, 290 Oklahoma, 137 Old Labour, 65, 70, 75, 77, 82, 92–3, 115, 117, 119, 150, 158, 173, 182, 227, 234, 309, 321, 324 frozen out, 26 Old Scottish Labour, 54 Once Upon a Time in the West, 138 Orange people 66, 82, 108, 113, 114, 223 O’Reilly, Tony, 63 organophosphates, 71, 76, 104–105, 115, 125, 185, 327 see also pesticides Osborne, Jamie, 46, 209 O’Sullivan, Peter, 122, 186 Owen, David, 75, 76, 82, 121, 197, 233, 266 Oxbridge, 36, 57 Oxford, 40, 47, 53, 57, 68, 78, 87, 99, 146, 149, 185, 217, 219, 243, 246, 266, 271, 272, 282, 296, 304 Packer, Lucy, 162 Packer, Richard, 7, 12, 14, 22–3, 41, 57, 58, 68, 79, 85, 88, 94, 101, 105, 107, 118–19, 122, 124, 133–4, 135, 156, 157, 158, 162, 164, 166, 167, 171–2, 174, 181, 182, 183, 185, 187, 191, 193, 198, 200, 201, 204, 216, 224, 230, 235, 265, 277, 283–4, 296–7, 303, 316, 324, 328, 330, 334–5 Paisley, Ian, 77, 82, 106 Pakenham, Judith, 318 Pakenham, Michael, 318 Parker Bowles, Andrew, 69, 159, 235–6, 244, 248, 268, 274, 306 Parker Bowles, Rose, 66, 69, 242, 244, 274, 306 Parker, Jill, 112, 314 Parker, Peter, 112, 322 Parliament, 180, 182, 226 Parliament Act, 240, 243, 249, 257, 259, 262, 281, 282 Parris, Matthew, 149, 300 Partridge, Frances, 207 PCC (Politically Correct Claptrapper), 27–8, 66, 119, 202, 203 PCC (Press Complaints Commission), 71, 192, 262 peers, 306 hereditary peers, 87, 182, 206, 215, 221, 222, 229, 230–1, 240, 242–3, 249, 252, 262–3, 265, 267, 275, 276, 296, 307, 322

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life peers, 99, 140, 147, 206, 221, 231, 275, 281, 299 see also House of Lords Percival, Lance, 170 Pérez de Cuéllar, Javier, 153 pesticides, 20, 66, 87, 95, 104–105, 111–12, 258 see also organophosphates Peston, Helen, 308 Peston, Maurice, 120, 299 Peyton, John, 30, 104–105 Phillips, Hayden, 42, 57 Phillis, Bob, 95 Pilger, John, 154 Pinochet, Augusto, 168 PLP (Parliamentary Labour Party), 15, 16, 84, 227 PM (Prime Minister), 6, 8, 20, 247–8 ‘a prime minister manqué’, 264 PQs (Prime Minister’s Questions), 10, 11, 23, 30, 76, 97, 105, 112, 168, 176, 180, 205, 214, 216, 221, 240, 241, 248, 282, 291, 296, 320, 332 Donoughue, Bernard, 43, 58, 72, 76, 104– 105, 115, 117, 119, 165, 177, 179, 200, 201, 209, 211, 222, 223, 226–7, 230, 231, 232–3, 243, 259, 264, 270, 278–9, 280, 298–9, 308 Polizzi, Olga, 146, 147–8, 196 Pollock, Louise, 81, 92 Pollock, Peter, 99 Polsby, Nelson, 40 Pomonti, Jacques, 215, 281 Porritt, Jonathon, 156 Portillo, Carolyn, 199 Potato Council, 53 Powell, Carla, 179 Powell, Enoch, 198 Powell, Jonathan, 6, 7, 9, 10, 15, 30, 54, 66, 67, 160, 182, 204, 215, 227, 251, 275, 288, 327, 332, 333 Pratt’s, 133, 282, 315 Prescott, John, 5, 10, 18, 28–9, 72, 74, 84, 118, 120, 125, 126, 131, 135, 209–10, 229, 285, 286, 306, 334 Privacy Law, 26–7, 28, 33, 39, 242 Private Eye, 126, 314 privatisation, 5, 38, 95, 138, 183 The Proud Tower, 251 public service, 86 Putnam, David, 167 Queen Mother, 46, 66, 91, 186, 241, 242, 244–5 Quin, Joyce, 188, 221, 265, 303, 335 Quinlan, Michael, 202 R&B (Racing and Bloodstock Committee), 10, 76, 206, 270, 307

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racing, 3, 10, 13, 17, 31, 32, 37, 46, 48, 58, 61–2, 69, 90, 91, 96, 111, 122, 134, 153, 154, 160, 186, 187, 214, 232, 239, 244–5, 248, 263, 265, 268, 273, 274, 280, 317, 335 Ascot, 244, 295, 297, 299, 300, 329 Cheltenham, 17, 24, 32, 43, 46, 94, 176, 177, 243 Derby, 63, 89, 91, 186 MAFF as ministry for racing, 64 Ministry of Rural Affairs, 67 Newton Abbot, 187 politics of, 242 racing bridges the political and social gaps, 32 racing syndicate, 24, 214 racing World Cup, 50 Sandown, 66, 190, 218, 236, 241–2 Towcester, 58, 76, 184, 239, 253–4, 274 see also BHB; horse; Newmarket; R&B; the Tote Radice, Giles, 149 railways, 5, 38, 46, 95, 138, 148 Rawling, Patricia, 23, 239, 310, 316–17, 318 Rawnsley, Andrew, 215–16 Rayne, Jane, 3, 178–9, 240, 314 Rayne, Max, 3, 112, 178–9, 240, 314 The Reader, 132 Reading, 5, 90 Reading Institute of Agricultural Management, 12 Red Dragon, 255 Redwood, John, 228 referendum, 55, 59, 63, 77, 79, 82–3, 84, 113, 155 Reid, John, 125, 221, 303, 305 Reilly, Kathleen, 52 Rendell, Ruth, 66 Richard, Ivor, 22, 23, 52, 77, 81, 93, 97, 123, 125, 128–9, 130, 140, 290 Richmond, Duke of, 273 Ricketts, Tristram, 189, 235, 242, 299, 300 Riddell, John, 217 Riddell, Peter, 40, 88–9, 162, 203, 238 Rix, Brian, 263 Robertson, George, 45, 280 Robinson, Geoffrey, 6, 11, 55–6, 68, 114, 124, 151, 193, 197 Robinson, Gerry, 42, 66 Rodgers, Bill, 64, 175, 266, 276 Rooker, Jeff, 3, 21, 24, 25, 33, 72, 95, 97, 107, 118, 122–3, 124, 126, 128, 129, 148–9, 158, 159–60, 163, 164, 166, 167, 170–210 passim, 218, 224–36 passim, 257–8, 259, 260, 274, 276, 277, 278, 283, 284, 286, 294, 298, 306, 313, 314, 315, 318, 324, 327, 329, 332, 335

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Index Rothermere, Jonathan Harold, 33 Rothschild, Evelyn de, 112 Rothschild, Jacob, 3, 13, 23, 44, 47, 58, 216, 217 Rothschild, Serena, 3, 216 Routledge, Paul, 14 Royal Family, 199, 200 Rural Liaison Groups, 5, 10, 80 rural area, see countryside Russia, 138, 140–3, 153, 174 Ryder, Carolyn, 202, 312 Ryder, Richard, 165, 202, 205, 312 Sainsbury, David, 148, 213, 224, 270 Sainsbury, Susie, 270 Savill, Peter, 5, 7, 9, 10, 65, 69, 71, 76, 80, 91, 96, 269, 306 Scargill, Arthur, 13, 25 Scholey, David, 9 Scotland, 54–5, 73, 75, 116, 126, 175, 177, 218, 221, 273, 304 Scott, Brough, 111, 186 Scott, Derek, 116 Scottish Labour Party, 54, 55, 68, 124 Scottish Nationalists, 54 Scudamore, Jim, 291, 293, 297, 330 SDP (Social Democratic Party), 32, 64, 92, 149, 175, 266, 280 Seldon, Anthony, 27, 114 Seldon, Arthur, 251 Selkirk, James, 42–3 Serbia, 249–50, 253, 254, 263, 264, 266–7, 269, 278, 287–8, 289, 291 Serota, Nick, 49, 70 Sewel, John, 84–5, 175, 177, 235, 333, 334 Shawcross, William, 146–7, 196 Shephard, Gillian, 72 Short, Clare, 41, 54, 310 Simon, assistant secretary, 18, 41, 56, 61, 87, 110, 114, 132, 134, 135, 141, 143, 145, 152, 156, 157, 164, 171, 184, 186, 187, 189, 193, 213, 239, 281, 288, 334 Sin, 86 Sinclair, Andrew, 112 Sinn Fein, 56, 59, 223, 320, 331 Slovenia, 146, 190–1 Smith, Andrew, 221 Smith, Chris, 3, 14, 40, 42, 70, 108–109, 115, 179, 210, 311 Smith, John, 14 Soames, Christopher, 217 social security, 72, 288, 320 Social Security Department, 126, 330, 335 Solley, Clive, 198 Sorrell, Martin, 298 Soulsby, Lawson, 107, 201, 228, 264, 270

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South-West, 4, 5, 93, 249 South-West river clean-up, 44, 47 special advisers, 101, 127, 131, 181, 183–4, 213, 297 Spectator, 197 Spedding, Colin, 248 Spellar, John, 26, 97, 108, 160, 172, 183, 324 Spence, Christopher, 49 Spencer, Raine, 276–7 Spencer, William, 276 Spiegl, Fritz, 234 Spillman, Nanine, 107 Sporting Life, 13, 50 Springer, Axel, 83 squirrels, 209, 211, 257–8 St John-Stevas, Norman, 311–12 Stalingrad, 128, 132, 136–7 Standard, 197, 198 Stanley, Tom, 67, 72, 106, 231, 233, 265, 267, 295, 298 Steel, David, 252 Steen, Anthony, 222, 240–1 Stephens, Caroline, 165 Stevens, Jane, 78 Stevens, Jocelyn, 178–9 Stone, Andrew, 246 Stoneleigh, Royal Show, 110 Stoute, Coral, 71–2 Stoute, Michael, 71–2 Stowe, Ken, 101, 108 Strang, Gavin, 118, 123, 125 Strathclyde, Tom, 189, 249, 250, 276, 282 Straw, Jack, 15, 27, 106, 108, 126, 164, 303, 309, 316, 326 The Sun, 288 Sunday Telegraph, 237–8 Sunday Times, 48, 161, 229, 245, 279, 285, 313 Sutherland, Veronica, 63 Swaythling, David, 103, 314 Swindon, 38 Symons, Liz, 81, 120, 126, 128, 168, 198–9, 213, 229, 278, 281, 290–1, 296, 310, 311, 324, 334 Symons, Phil, 311 tax, 29, 55, 92, 130, 241 Taxi Driver, 53 Taylor, Ann, 123, 150, 164, 177, 180–1, 182, 319 Taylor, Jeremy, 24, 287, 299 TB (tuberculosis), 33, 81, 91, 93, 122, 125, 277, 280, 286 Tebbit, Norman, 258, 290 Telegraph, 37, 83, 132, 162, 183, 202 terrorism, 5–6, 113, 133, 136, 140 Terry, Quinlan, 301 TGWU (Transport and General Workers’ Union), 39, 89, 138

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Thatcher, Margaret, 6, 8, 9, 27, 33, 77, 97, 114, 161, 164, 165, 207, 264, 266, 289, 296 Theresa, private secretary, 198, 199, 224, 258, 328, 334 Thompson, Emma, 224 Thornton, Neil, 173, 174 The Times, 6, 33, 40, 46, 109, 111, 132, 146, 149, 161, 202, 203, 238, 256, 266, 287, 289, 291, 300, 319, 323 Timms, Kate, 12, 41, 43, 94, 127, 265, 275, 334 Tiverton, 5, 80 tobacco, 32, 36, 64 Tordoff, Geoff, 238 Tories, 11, 12, 37, 106, 110, 150–1, 154, 159, 171, 228, 233, 238, 266, 326 farmers, 10, 91, 135 House of Lords, 18–19, 21, 160, 175, 180, 188–9, 214–15, 249, 250, 252, 257, 275, 278, 281, 282, 302, 307 Tory/Labour government ­comparison, 14 the Tote, 3, 10, 72, 134, 182, 187, 254, 268, 285, 291, 294, 297 Transport Ministry, 55, 79, 114, 118, 120, 212 transport-related issues, 14, 28, 29, 35, 118, 120, 295, 309, 316 Treasury, 11, 14–15, 29, 36, 48, 55, 56, 68, 70, 81, 92, 114, 124, 135, 149, 176, 188, 194, 198, 209, 210, 216, 231, 249, 277, 299, 304, 320 Trend, Burke, 272 Trimble, David, 6, 8, 48, 53, 56, 59, 63, 67, 77, 82, 139, 223, 310, 320, 321, 331 Trumpington, Jean, 47, 222, 278, 299 Turnbull, Andrew, 210, 304 Turner, Adair, 107 Ulster Unionists, 6, 8, 11, 48, 67, 77, 82, 83, 281, 289, 310, 320, 321, 331 unemployment, 26 The Unforgiven, 268 university, 36, 98 An Unsuitable Job for a Woman, 85–6 USA (United States of America), 11, 170, 201, 215 vet (veterinary surgeon), 18, 107, 118, 201, 235, 237, 245, 246, 249, 250–1, 259, 261, 270, 286, 291, 293, 295, 297, 300, 302, 330 Vickers, John, 40 Virginia, assistant private secretary, 193, 270, 284, 290, 334 Von Bülow, Claus, 112 Wakeham, John, 5, 7, 9, 10, 14–15, 26, 89–90, 205, 262, 292

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Walden, George, 266 Wales, 82, 89, 91, 112, 141, 194, 221, 227, 252, 273 Welsh Assembly, 265, 267 Walker, David, 109 Walsh, Joe, 17, 32, 45, 46, 61, 62, 64, 88, 101, 102, 134–5, 265, 295, 299–300, 330 Warwicks, Royal Show, 313–14 Waugh, Auberon, 314 Waugh, Evelyn, 44, 219, 220 Webber, Paul, 31, 62 Weidenfeld, George, 109, 148 Weighell, Sid, 150 Wellington, Duke of, 121 West Country, 3, 107 West, Trevor, 7, 63 Westminster, Duke of, 110 Whelan, Charlie, 14, 197 White, Barry, 8, 67, 77, 331 Whitehall, 3, 8, 42, 76, 88, 101, 105, 109, 121, 122, 128, 158, 213, 270, 286, 296, 313, 324, 327, 332 line management, 315–16, 325, 326 Whitelaw, William, 77, 97 Whitty, Larry, 124, 214 Wicks, Malcolm, 227 Wilde, Oscar, 323–4 Williams, Gareth, 124, 126, 198, 252, 265, 267, 290, 291, 311, 321, 322 Williams, Shirley, 211 Willoughby, David, 21 Wills, Michael, 306 Wilson, Charlie, 68 Wilson, Harold, 6, 14, 49, 93, 115, 120, 125, 208, 210, 248, 297, 299, 326–7 Wilson, Mary, 182 Wilson, Richard, 40–1, 43, 72, 118, 128, 150, 182, 324–5, 328 the Wiltons, 163–4, 244, 279 Wind in the Willows, 36–7 Wintour, Patrick, 215–16 women, 109, 128, 156, 168, 229, 325–6, 335 Worcester, Bob, 94 Wright, David, 173 Wright, Patrick, 101, 108 WTO (World Trade Organization), 51 Wyatt, Petronella, 180, 196 Wyatt, Will, 122, 242 Wyatt, Woodrow, 156, 159, 161, 163–4, 180, 196 Yamataka, 225 Yes Minister, 41, 57, 87, 128, 172, 231, 237, 294, 316 Young, Barbara, 156 Young, Hugo, 298 youth, 26

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House of Lords by Andrew Festing, author is seated in the centre of the front bench

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Author and Sarah at a Westminster Hall reception

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With Sarah at a Masquerade Ball

Sarah with Honey in the garden at Fox’s Walk

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Author and Sarah at the wedding of son Paul to Lucy

Son Paul with Georgina Berry with Honey

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Wedding of daughter Rachel to Jason

Daughter Kate

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With son Steve

Col de Bousseils in the Pyrenees above Céret, our French house Mas au Rocher

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With Sarah on the terrace of Mas au Rocher

Holidaying in Ireland

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Working on the Northern Ireland peace settlement: David and Sophie Montgomery with Ulster Protestant leader David Trimble and wife Daphne

Jack Cunningham and author with MAFF team and advisors

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With Antony Worrall Thompson at the BBC Good Food Show

MAFF ministers – seated Jack Cunningham, standing L-R Elliot Morley, Jeff Rooker and author

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MAFF minister Jeff Rooker with bovine friend

Diary hero, Father Vincent Flanagan

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Holidaying with friends Nori and Philip Graham

With writer friends Sam Brittan and John Gross

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Friends Robin Chapman and his wife (and author’s first girlfriend) Jill Booty

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With Sarah and Jeremy Taylor

Sailing down the Nile to the Tomb of Tutankhamun with the Earl and Countess of Carnarvon

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Skiing in Austria with Philip Graham

Winner L’Acclamation at Clairfontaine August 2016, with Sarah and French trainer Stéphane Wattel

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With Blue Labour friend Maurice Glasman

At launch of friend Rachel Reeves MP’s book in the Speaker’s Apartments

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Lunching with Honey at Fox’s Walk

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