Dislocated to Success (31 page)

It turns out that Doge Carlo has surprisingly reasonable English considering - albeit with a slight Irish accent - and that our translator was not needed too much, although I have some Italian from my days at the English College, it is not the Italian of the trans-Veneto. He was surprisingly friendly, almost chummy, and was clearly quite enthusiastic and cheerful. It turned out he had stood essentially on a reform-or-die platform and had managed to convince the assorted mercantile greybeards of Venice that this was essential; the  person who would have been Doge had been much more of a “carry on as we are” candidate. What he did reveal was that Venice had considerably more funds than in what would-have-been time, and that it had slightly more funds than our intelligence estimate, which I managed to scan before the meeting, had thought. He was in the market for modernisation, he wanted to be the Hamburg of the Adriatic and he was willing to spend; he was also interested in not just the City of Venice but in his Dalmatian possessions (which technically included Ragusa) and the Ionian islands including Corfu as well. He seemed less interested at that point in the Veneto proper or those parts of Fruili and Istria which were held by the Republic - this was to change later on as discussion developed.

I was fairly non-committal. By early 1985 I had seen a fair few people arrive on the scene saying they were going to “Spend, Spend, Spend”, only to find that what they considered to be a vast fortune was actually a pittance and that they might be able to manage a generator for the palace and a ramshackle school. However, he did offer the opportunity of a visit in the Spring to discuss things further, and the sum on paper was certainly enough to make some improvements. Of course, improvements by themselves can mean very little, but having a good attitude always helps a lot; his comments about how Dublin was being transformed did show a certain grounding. He appreciated that he did not have the lavish money that was being spent there, but saw the changes as a basis. I agreed that after consulting with the Prime Minister, I would see about a visit; I could not promise anything personally, but I would ensure that one of our uplift consultancy groups would be sent pronto. It was to be the start of a somewhat memorable relationship between the Most Serene Republic and the United Kingdom.

After the somewhat maudlin commemorations of the first year, the decision had been made to make Dislocation Day a more local affair; it was suggested to local authorities that each one should have a small commemoration ceremony in their area and a small amount of additional funding was provided for that. In communities that were hit harder by the Dislocation Day than others, they sometimes organised their own events in addition to this - there was a significant one in New Malden for the Korean community that lived there, and most Chinatowns had one for what they called “Sundering Day”.

Of course, there were those local authorities who chose to spent the funding on other things - it wasn’t ring fenced. This did attract the attention of the tabloid newspapers, but to be honest there were some places were very few people had been Dislocated - Craven for instance. It was more significant in badly-affected Hackney, but- well, one doesn’t expect anything sensible to come out of Hackney Council at the best of times. There have been some calls for the day to be made a Bank Holiday, but to be perfectly honest who wants a Bank Holiday in February? The general public are usually in favour of a day off, but support for the proposal is generally very low.

There is a three-fold sense to Dislocation Day. We commemorate those who we have lost; that is the primary way that most people remember it and the primary way it is carried in the media, especially by the TV. There are also those people who, whilst resident in the UK, came originally from other nations and have been cut off from their original homelands; this has had greater effects than I think a lot of us imagined at the time, not all of them negative. Finally, we commemorate those who we have found; originally just those who were stranded here on Dislocation Day, who have had to rebuild lives from scratch whilst dealing with their losses, but increasingly in some circles about trans people who have joined us or had some impacts on our island journey.

Some people question the latter, but I point to three things: firstly, the now-expected Bach Christmas Eve concert - after the Last Night of the Proms, probably the most-viewed and listened-to classical music event in the UK; secondly, imagine a world without Monsignor Canal’s pictures of our modern cities - his last exhibition attracted millions of visitors; finally, the most popular panellist on BBC’s Question Time - Dean Swift of Dublin - who all politicians fear greatly. I feel we have both lost and gained from the Dislocation; there are a growing number of people who think that it overall was a good thing for Britain - still a small number, but a growing number, and not all of them with the best motives for doing so.

However, this was the fifth year and a little bit more of a show was put on, although the awful weather caused a lot of what would have been outside events to be held in smaller indoors venues. Parliament just meets for prayers and then adjourns to the ceremonies - attendance is actually low, as most try and make their local ceremony instead. The official ceremony was, as usual, in Whitehall; in the first year it was at the Cenotaph, but that jarred badly with a lot of people and has never been repeated. Essentially, there was a small parade from the Coldstreams, a short outdoor service, the Band of the Guards and a speech from Her Majesty whilst we politicians looked on with appropriately glum expressions. The turnout was decent, but probably not as high as it could have been because of the cold weather.

I often wonder what the rest of the world really think about the Dislocation. Obviously, there are those who have often expressed that it never happened, and I suspect this sentiment is actually more popular than many think it is. It is usually attributed to reactionaries such as the Spanish, the Russians and the Parmesans, but there are a lot of reactionaries out there who I suspect keep quiet for diplomatic reasons and curse the day behind our backs. Even amongst our friends, I suspect few are actually really happy about it except on a personal level; we are a direct threat to the Ancient Regime, to order and to stability. A spectre haunts the noble houses of Europe, the spectre of Thatcherism; more and more educated young people in Europe see the Iron Lady as a symbol of the freedom to come. All we really need is a little Blue Book, and I understand that CCO are working on that - another one for the banned book lists in some countries.

The other side of Dislocation Day is of course the media; the papers always run a wide range of stories in anticipation of the event, and few have been able to resist a tear-jerker story - although the nature of these depends very much on the political complexion of the newspaper. The Telegraph has the ruined Middle-Class family, husband gone, now reduced to council house squalor; the Times has Middle-Class family, lost job, now moved to the North and doing well; the Guardian has a feature on freed slaves in the Caribbean; the Express covers the Royal Family, the Mail has a weaselly piece from “A Conservative Insider” about how things nearly collapsed in the first two days; the Mirror goes for a bit of grim up North; the Sun thanks us for the Leaderene, without whom we wouldn’t have made it through those dark days; and the Star goes for a 17 year old aspiring actress from Mecklenburg with large mammary glands.

For the radio, Radio 1 and 2 get a chance to play their back catalogue of “hits from before the Dislocation”; Radio 3 ignores the Dislocation - which is probably just as well, after its ‘atonal composers who were dislocated’ series last year - and Radio 4 goes on an extended whinge-fest led off by their favourite bitter northerner, proceeding through Dr Jenkins
[69]
on Thought for the Day and continuing the day on a theme of “it all went wrong”. The TV is fairly similar; both BBC1 and ITV feel it is an excuse for a nice set of repeats, Channel 4 have the alternative Dislocation - which is sort of funny, in a very undergraduate way - and BBC 2 use it to kick off a historical series about Europe which will no doubt get lots of complaints from the embassies.

As I said that the start of this book, it is a time to remember lost loves, and before heading out for the evening I did pop into the Oratory and say a couple of prayers for Adrian. I still think about him most days, if not quite every day now; I do remember to phone his sister about once a month and we try and meet up once a year, usually just before Christmas. His remaining aged parent is in one of the less dreadful nursing homes, mainly being paid by agreement from the rental income on Adrian’s former flat. Whilst we could probably have declared him dead, like many other people who did not need the money, we have chosen not to - not out of a sense of just in case, but more out of respect.

Luckily, I didn't have to spend the evening moping - which might have otherwise have happened; I went for a discreet dinner with half a dozen friends at a new place in Soho, which is rather shockingly named after the chef/owner. Those restaurants that survived the trials of the heavier rationing period are now generally doing well and a few new ones are opening, which is making Soho more interesting again. I was told this new place featured a one-legged lesbian sous chef and that the food was very good; I expressed a hope that was not too piscatorial. In actual fact it was excellent, particularly the Newfoundland lobster raviolo; the wines were an interesting selection of horribly expensive cis and carefully selected trans. There were a couple of people from politics, a couple of thespians ancient and modern, a television presenter, a young member of trans nobility and a well-known artist and some of their lovers - it was indeed a gay old time. Some of the younger ones went onto a club afterwards; the rest of us demurred. You still can’t go for a coffee really now, and watching people is much less interesting with Ersatz - so it was into a taxi and back home.

On reflection, I think that the Dislocation has rather suited me: I have prospered where I might have fallen by the political wayside; I have achieved things that I really never thought I would do, from concluding treaties with the King of Spain to arriving in Valletta in a helicopter with an ultimatum. Most people, if asked, would have preferred not to be Dislocated; even such battlers as the PM - who has also thrived. The only cis politician I can think of who agrees with me is Norman Tebbit, who thinks it’s all hard work but great fun. Yes, I miss the people who we lost, especially Adrian, and I miss the places that we lost; however, on balance, I think that my life has changed for the better, and whilst that isn’t true for many people in the UK at the moment I think that the influence of our UK has already changed millions of people’s lives for the better - and that will be our enduring achievement.

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[1]
Sir Edward Heath, KG, PC, MBE Conservative Member of Parliament for Bexley 1950-1974, Sidcup 1974-1987, Old Bexley & Sidcup 1987-, Leader of the Conservative Party 1965-1975, Prime Minister 1970-1974, Father of the House 1992-

[2]
Dame Margaret Thatcher LL OM PC FRS, Conservative Member of Parliament for Finchley 1959-, Leader of the Conservative Party 1975-1992, Prime Minister 1979-1992

[3]
James Prior PC, Conservative MP for Lowestoft 1959-1987, Secretary of State for Employment 1979-1982, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster 1982-1985, translated as Baron Prior of Waveney in the Life Peerage of the United Kingdom in 1987

[4]
Francis Pym MC, Conservative MP for Cambridgeshire 1961-1987, Secretary of State for Defence 1979-1982, translated as Viscount Nantucket in the Peerage of British North America 1988

[5]
William Whitelaw KT, CH, MC, PC DL, Conservative MP for Penrith and the Border 1955-1987, Deputy Prime Minister 1979-1986, Home Secretary 1979-1982, Lord Privy Seal 1982-1987, translated as Viscount Whitelaw in the Peerage of the United Kingdom 1987

[6]
Harold Wilson, KG, OBE, PC, FRS, Labour MP for Ormskirk 1945-50, Huyton 1950-82, Leader of the Labour Party 1963-1976, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom 1964-70, 1974-76, translated as Baron Wilson of Rievaulx, a Life Barony in the Peerage of the United Kingdom 1982. Died of natural causes 1995

[7]
James Callaghan, KG PC, Labour MP for Cardiff S 1945-50, Cardiff SE 1950-87, Leader of the Labour Party 1976-80, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom 1976-79, translated as Earl Callaghan of Cardiff in the Peerage of the United Kingdom 1987 - only man to date to have held all four Great Offices of State

[8]
Sir Ian Gilmour PC, Bt, Conservative MP for Central Norfolk 1962-74, Chesham & Amersham 1974-82, Lord Privy Seal 79-80, resigned for personal reasons due to loss of two sons in the Dislocation. Died in an incident at a level crossing in 1988 on which there was an open verdict

[9]
Norman Tebbit  CH PC, Conservative MP for Epping 1970-74, Chingford 1974-, Secretary of State for Business, Industry and Technology 1980-88, Home Secretary 1988-92, Leader of the Conservative Party 1992-, former Airline pilot

[10]
Michael Jopling PC, Conservative MP for Westmorland 1964-1987 , Westmorland and Lonsdale 1987-, Chief Whip 1979-82, Secretary of State for Agriculture, Fisheries and Food 1982-1988.