Rowing Against the Tide - A career in sport and politics (18 page)

The system was also unfair on our senior citizens, for there were differing schemes of concessionary fares in the Districts around and within the City. Where there was more than one provider on a route, only the City Transport would offer concession rides to City OAPs and only within the City. It meant that a senior citizen had to wait at a stop until a City Transport bus came by, so that he or she could use their pass, but if you did not live in the city you might have to pay if their District did not have some sort of arrangement with the City. I put down an amendment in committee, seeking to give all senior citizens living in the area covered by the transport arrangements, equal rights, and that any operator in that area, had to offer those same agreed concessions I am no legal draughtsman, and was asked that if I would withdraw my amendment, the Minister promised that a clause to meet my aim would be tabled at the report stage. I was justly proud, when the Secretary of State Nicholas Ridley rose to propose what he called the Brandon-Bravo clauses to give our senior citizens exactly what I had wanted. I don’t claim it has all been sweetness and light ever since, for with an ageing population the cost of this provision is bearing hard on Local Authorities, but I still believe it was, and is, the right thing to have done.

As much as I enjoyed the jousting in the Chamber, I enjoyed my constituency work even more. As soon as I was elected, I bought an old caravan, cleaned it up, had a large banner displaying my constituency, who I was, and set up “surgery” each Friday afternoon or Saturday morning in the various shopping centres throughout the constituency. If I’d any doubts as to the worth whileness of the exercise, they were dispelled when I heard a passing resident say “The Labour Member never did this”. I gave priority to those who had arranged an appointment, but set out a row of chairs outside the caravan, and if folks were prepared to wait, I’d see them. It certainly made the effort worth while.

In the winter I used the various libraries, and one winter occasion illustrated that you can never take a voter for granted. A probation officer asked if I would see a constituent who had foolishly wound his gas meter the wrong way, and was faced with a bill he couldn’t pay. Whilst pointing out that it was a criminal act, I would still see him. He turned out to be a giant Rasta, who turned up in a most aggressive mood. I was pretty sharp with him, and using a short well known expletive, told him if he wanted my help, to stop mouthing off, and sit down and tell me what had happened. I can’t recall what I did to help, but many months later at the 1987 election I was at a temporary polling station in one of my least favoured areas. I stepped back from the presiding officer as two Rastas came in to vote. The smallest voted and left, but the larger guy, having voted, turned and wished my luck. Stepping outside the hut, Sally was sitting in the car and lighting the smaller Rasta’s cigarette, when the big guy said hey, don’t you realise you’ve just voted for Mr Brandon-Bravo ! It was only two votes, but who would have expected they would be for a Conservative. Some time later we realised, that they must have been friends of the meter winder, and knew I wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

If you’re a good boy you get to go on a few really good freebies ! In fairness these are essential if a member is to have a broad understanding of both Home and Foreign Affairs. I was privileged to join a defence group down to the Falklands in 1984, where the Labour Member for Coventry laid a wreath over the sunken wreck of that destroyer, and our group leader Carol Mather, who had been a colonel in the Welsh Guards which had fought valiantly there during the war, also went to pay respects to those who had fallen. The Ghurkhas were in resident at the time, various regiments having six months tours of duty there, and they held a small reception for us. Whilst chatting away, I was offered a drink and asked for a scotch. Whilst my back was turned a scotch, and I mean a large scotch, had been poured, and I had to keep a straight face as I consumed it. They are great little people, but watch out when they pour the drinks !

On West Falklands we met a farmer who looked after some 32000 acres with just 32000 sheep grazing. That was a measure of just how poor the land is, but it was a living for him and his family, wife, daughter and one farmhand. His hobby was as a radio ham, which came in very handy during the war. He had a tall triangular metal radio mast, which came into use as soon as he spotted Argie planes coming over West Falklands when our troops were landing and defending Falkland Sound. His message went via Ascension Island to the War Cabinet, and back down to the Sound, giving our troops a few moments to prepare for the attack. He could not understand why the Argies just flew over his farm, without seeking to take out the mast. He had only been to Stanley a few times, and his daughter had only been to Stanley once, but she didn’t like it, it was too noisy ! Stanley at that time had just over 600 residents, and the only hotel was the famous Upland Goose, and I wonder what her reaction would be if she came for a visit to London.

I had two other defence department trips to Belize, and saw the excellent job performed by our troops there, and the unique training facilities Belize afforded. Their one big problem was the climate, for it had the unique ability to rot through the steelwork of military vehicles in incredibly short order. It’s a tiny multicultural country, where all groups seem to live happily together, and indeed there were five different ethnic groups represented in the six parliamentarians who entertained us out on the quays. The troop’s R and R was out on the quays and we were taken out in one of those helicopters like a fly’s eye where you can look down between your feet and scan the shallows below. The sergeant in charge, asked that I didn’t report back, since he had been there many tours longer than expected, and that it was the best posting he’d ever had, and he hoped he had been forgotten. Burnt brown as a berry, and clearly as fit as a fiddle, I could see why he wanted to keep his head down. There was a road to the Guatemalan border, and manned by a British guard force. From the opposite side a road had been built right up to the border, on the basis that given the Guatemalan claim on Belize, it would one day allow them to complete the road to the Atlantic coast. We did go across the border, for on our side was a map of central America showing Belize and Guatemala, but from the other side the map showed no Belize and Guatemala stretching from the Pacific to the Atlantic coasts.

We flew by chopper to the south of the country where the landing pad was so small, that they dare not turn off the engine whilst we disembarqued, in case for whatever reason they might be unable to restart the engines. They flew off, and rejoined us some hour or so later. The site overlooked the river that was the only outlet to the Atlantic from Guatemala, and hence of strategic interest to both countries. We flew on to a settlement in the jungle where a community of very small – not exactly pigmies – lived, and the excitement particularly of the children, was quite heart warming. We brought the gift of some footballs, and we could not have chosen better.

The second visit had an amusing twist. There is a long, straight, narrow road leading from Belize City to the north, and we noticed that at regular intervals there were stout steel poles driven into the ground. It transpired that these were to try to deter the small planes that transported drugs from South America to the USA from landing and being refuelled on deserted stretches of the road. One of the successful drug seizures by the Belize police, resulted in a top of the range limo being confiscated and handed to the Vice President for his official duties. He paid a price for his home was burnt down a few weeks later. But this was further compounded, for when the car was taken in for service, they found drugs stuffed into whatever space there was behind panels. Apart from the embarrassment, we were told later that he took it all in good part.

An exchange visit to the US Congress and Senate followed a visit by a Senator to England, who came to see live, Prime Minster’s question time. As he stood on the floor of the Chamber, he remarked as to how small it was, but more important he said “If we had the equivalent of Prime Minister’s question time for our Presidents, we would have very different Presidents”. After a thought he added, “Come to think of it, we would have very different Senators!” That trip to the States took me to a congressman in Florida, and I joined him at one of his fund raisers in a Wild West theme bar. Having made his pitch, he announced that with him was a guy from the mother of Parliaments, and I had to climb up to the balcony and quickly find something to say. After very brief pleasantries, I told them I’d just been re-elected and that my maximum spend would have been no more than 12000 dollars. There was a hoot of laughter, and someone shouted that it would not buy 10 seconds of TV time. Another quickly shouted, “What a great idea!”.

Late in 1988, shortly after the Palestine Liberation Organisation had convened their Parliament, and had indicated they were at last considering recognising the State of Israel in order that talks towards a settlement might take place, the Inter parliamentary Union accepted an invitation from the Tunisian Government, to send a small delegation on a planned interchange of members between our two countries. Although the trip was primarily to discuss their past and planned constitutional structure, their aim to facilitate an honourable settlement of the Israel/Palestine problem was top of their agenda. Through our ambassador Stephen Day, three of us Ted Ledbitter, Eddy Loyden and I agreed to meet PLO representatives, providing they understood that I was Jewish and a member of the Conservative Friends of Israel, and that Ted was similarly a member of Labour’s friends of Israel.

We met in a safe house with the PLO “Foreign Secretary” Farouk Kadoumi, who was also secretary of the Fatah organisation, Dr Zehdi Terzi their UN delegate, and Abu Jaffar the director of their political department. The meeting lasted for two hours and with our ambassador and Mr Simon Collis taking notes, and we made it clear we were there simply to listen. Kadoumi took us at our word, and we were given a lecture lasting three quarters of an hour, interrupted only in mid flow by his indicating that he knew I was the Jew. He made clear that whatever the wording of their “Parliamentary” declaration confirming recognition of the State of Israel, he would have none of it, and that it would not succeed. He made clear that even if a two State solution was agreed, it would not last and that his ultimate aim was a single Palestinian State, and that all Palestinians should be repatriated and returned to the homes they occupied prior to the War of 1948. Given we were there to listen, not to negotiate, I did not try to point out the much greater number of Jewish people were ejected from their homes throughout North Africa and the Middle East, and therefore forced willingly or otherwise to settle in Israel. In the discussion that followed, Dr Terzi underlined the fact that the Arab world was at war with Israel, yet failed to recognise that alone made it almost impossible for Israel to negotiate with people who refused to recognise them or to accept their right to exist. Both made it clear that any recognition of the State of Israel could only come after negotiations were complete, for they could not recognise it as a lawful state until boundaries were agreed, yet that was precisely what they were asking the world to do in respect of a Palestinian State. Frankly I came away from that meeting feeling that nothing had changed, and that the recent declaration was little more than a PR exercise designed to bolster support for their cause in the wider world.

In our home village of Barton in Fabis, we had some Greek Cypriot friends, and inevitably I took an interest in the troubles of that Island. I’d been to stay with these friends at their home which they had retained in Cyprus, and visited the home of his family whose house was close to the Green Line dividing the North from the South. What struck me sitting in their garden was that you could see barely 200 yards away, a line of flags marking the so called boundary. The vast majority of the flags were those of Greece, and were interspersed with the odd flag of Cyprus itself. On the other side they were faced with a few flags that were of Turkey. On meeting one of their Parliamentarians I could not help but point out, that if the National Flags of Greece and Turkey were the major display, how on earth were they ever to resolve their problems. Part of the stand off was economic, for the North supplied the water, and the South the electricity, something that no doubt has been resolved by now.

Meeting Australian PM Bob Hawke with a delegation led by Alf Morris in 1990

Inevitably I wanted to see the problem from the other side, and in April of 1989 had the chance to visit Northern Cyprus. This did cause some difficulty with some of our friend’s colleagues in their local community, but in the end they did accept that if MPs were ever going to be able to assist in any way to resolve the problems in the island, then we had to have seen the arguments from both sides. Sir Fergus Montgomery led our little group of six, which included two Northern Island members, Cecil Walker and Roy Beggs. We had to touch down first in Turkey, not even stopping over, for no direct flights were allowed, as such flights would be deemed to be recognising the State of Northern Cyprus. Therefore only flights coming in from Turkey were allowed. We had most informative meeting with Rauf Denktash, and senior members of his government, four of whom were educated in England. Mr Denktash had spent a lot of time in Liverpool, their Speaker Mr Hakki Atun, had been educated in Nottingham, and their representative in London Tansel Fikri in Sheffield. We met many who had fled north after 1974, losing everything, and were now subject to the discussions on swop arrangements with Greek Cypriots who had fled South, likewise leaving their land and properties behind. One of the many civilians we met was a Mr John Kent, a British citizen of Turkish origin, married to a Scottish wife and whose children had been educated in the UK. Mr Kent had tried to correspond with our Foreign Office to be told that unless return mail was addressed to Turkey, it would not be delivered to Northern Cyprus. His MP back home was Ivor Stanbrook, was bringing such difficulties to the attention of Ministers. I asked Mr Denktash whether he foresaw a time when his community in Northern Cyprus would be seen as inconvenient to Turkey. He felt that whoever governed Turkey would not survive what he felt sure would be seen as a desertion of their own. Thirty years on the problem is still there.