Walking by the seat of your trousers

 

One of the benefits of lockdown has been the chance to walk anytime and anywhere. In town there are plenty of clues as to where you are but in the country side you need to have some kind of a map.

Navigation

Mobile phones tend to run out of signal at crucial points so in my view an Ordnance Survey map is vital to proceedings. But a map is no use if you don’t know which direction you are walking. 

Be prepared

Luckily – years ago - I bought a small compass from my local Scouts group at a ‘Bring and Buy’ sale. Having this avoids the sort of navigation which relies on ‘gut feeling’ or a wild guess at where the sun is on a cloudy day.

Scouts
all-purpose wristband

Off the beaten track

When I’m planning a route I try to avoid the roads. As a walker, it’s always disappointing if you have to resort to following a road, even if the road is so minor as to have no number or name. 

If there is only the occasional car - or more likely a tractor - this can still be irksome especially when the driver looks at you as if you should not be there. Then you have to stand back into the hedge to let the vehicle pass. So instead, I keep away from the roads and follow the dotted lines on the map showing official paths.

The best-laid plans

That day the route I had planned would take me in a circle of about seven miles then comfortably back to the house and a warm shower. 

As it turned out, it wasn’t easy to follow. Although most of the land owners had played by the rules, some had bolted and padlocked their gates – that was manageable – it’s easy to climb over them. 

What was really mean was when I found out that the gate had also been fitted with a single line of barbed wire stretched over the top. That was obviously not to keep the animals in or out - it was meant to rip the seat out of your trousers (or worse) as you tried to climb over. I had to make a couple of detours to avoid that possibility.

Official paths

More reliable are the upgraded pathways designated for walkers. These are shown as diamond shapes linked by dotted lines, and they actually have a name. I had followed the Cotswold Bridleway and the Monarch’s Way as far as I could. 

Whenever I see a sign for a permissive path, I have to curb my imagination. This is not a path intended for permissive behaviour – such as the route for a bunch of hippies off to a rave, but rather the landowner’s permission for you to use it - even if that seems a bit begrudging.

---

Picturesque village

The plan was to walk to a fairly isolated village which was shown on the map on the top of a hill. The contour lines were well spread out so I could expect the walk up to be gentle. The guide book showed a picture of the 12^th Century church and recommended the view over Bourton-on-the Water as spectacular.

So near and yet so far

I was only about three fields away from the village but I had obviously made one too many detours. I was approaching the village from a steep hill which went through a dense wood. The wood was encircled by a wire fence with a latched wooden gate overgrown with nettles. I hoped that there would be a gate at the other side which could take me further up the hill. I felt relieved that I had not worn shorts and holding my arms above my head to avoid the nettles, I managed to get through the gate without being stung.

At the other side of the wood I saw a gate a few yards away to the left. This gate was clear of nettles but chained shut. I clambered over and walked up the steep ridge. At the top, the earth flattened out and there was a field ahead, full of cattle.

Peaceful cattle

As I emerged above the ridge, they all turned to look at me. ‘How delightful!’ I thought. 

Greystones farm nature reserve

The previous day I had visited a Farm Nature Reserve which had an informative display about their automated milking parlour which the cows enter at will when the pressure of milk on their udders gets too great. I had watched a cow wriggle into the milking booth and jiggle her udder until it connected to the machine. What a great combination of technology and nature and what bliss for the cow! 

Oh! Bullocks

But these creatures were not cows, they were young bulls and as their curious gazes rested on me I pondered the mix of youth and testosterone showing in their somewhat glazed looks. The first two started slowly towards me and as they moved, they were flanked by four others as the pace picked up. Others came from the sides of the field and now the group were trotting in a phalanx, shoving and jostling one another, while letting out grunts of excitement. 

For once I could not see a fence or gate on either side – the field stretching as far as the eye could see. For a moment I wondered whether I could outrun them but the ground was uneven and the thought of falling in front of them was not pleasant. The only way was back and through the wood. I turned, tumbled down the ridge and threw myself over the gate into the wood.

Back on track

I found my way back to Monarch’s Way and the road. Still shaking, I walked in the direction I thought was Bourton-on-the-Water. After what seemed like hours, I looked at the map and began to wonder whether I had gone the wrong way again. Up ahead and walking towards me was a young man with a very excited and energetic collie. The young man was trying to train the dog to walk to heel and kept calling out ‘Finn!’, ‘Finn, back.’ As they came towards me Finn leapt up and I made a great fuss of him, rubbing his ears and tickling his chin. The young man explained that Finn was a rescue dog and had been born into a family that couldn’t cope with him. ‘He’s only seven months.’ he said ‘but it’s a nightmare – I can’t let him off the lead. He won’t come back when I call him.’

Rural Wisdom

I too was beginning to feel like a wandering rescue dog and the young man seemed to know what he was talking about so I said ‘I hope I’m going the right way. Perhaps you can tell me where we are on this map.’ He took the map turned it round while Finn continued to hug my legs and dribble on my trousers. The young man looked at the map and said. ‘First right here, then keep right along the public footpath.’ He handed the map back and wrenched Finn off me. ‘Thanks, and all best with him.’ I said.  

I took the map back and immediately realised that the young man had been reading it upside down. I reminded myself that just because someone lives in the country side they don’t necessarily know it like the back of their hand.

 I carried on the way I had been going and sure enough I came through a clearing and saw the River Windrush with its beautiful stretch of water.

The following day I bought a copy of the Cotswold Journal to read with my morning coffee. The front page informed me that David Beckham – a resident of Chipping Camden – had put a picture of his spaniel ‘Fig’ on Instagram. Fig was seen begging for digestive biscuits. 

In the later pages a small item gave an account of a court case involving a farmer who had shot a dog on his land. The farmer claimed the dog was out of control and had been worrying his cattle.

Alice goes to Dreamworld - a fable for our time

Alice looked at the Dreamworld Holidays website then back at her bank balance. There was plenty in the current account and her savings had grown steadily. Since Grandma had left her the money, she had hardly touched it. During the crisis it had been difficult to spend anything.

Archaos
Cirque Revolutionnaire 1988

For nearly two years she’d bought almost no clothes. That had been a big saving. When you were on Zoom all day it really didn’t matter if you wore old leggings and flip flops. You could change the tops around and make them look different with a piece of jewellery or a scarf. Scarves were easier to come by than clothes that fitted. Once they’d closed all the shops you couldn’t try anything on, so it was best to get “one size fits all” and alter it when it was delivered.

Then back to work for one day every other week - mainly to be checked by the medics and psychologists. After a while, you learned not to say much and not make too much of anything. If you drew attention to yourself you could end up being redeployed on vegetable or fruit picking. But anyway, it was quite good to see the others from work even if you had to wave across from the other side of the room. The biggest surprise was finding out who dyed their hair and what colour it would have been originally.

Getting your hair done was almost impossible. The official appointments were every few months and you had to make sure you didn’t miss one otherwise you had to wait for ages. Of course, if you saw someone with styled hair you knew they’d earned extra vouchers. Either that, or they had some job as an announcer on the Information Channel.

Then they announced holidays were allowed. Everyone got excited and Twitter went wild with old photos of Marbella and Ibiza. But then they said no holidays outside your own region. For Alice that meant the North-East and that meant you could really only go to different coastal towns - the cities were out of bounds.

You were allowed to go twice a year and for a while Alice really enjoyed herself. You didn’t have to pay too much and the holiday was completely organised for you – every detail. The coach would pick you up to take you there and of course you never had to sit next to anyone. You weren’t allowed to bring any luggage - it was all provided when you got to the hotel. One of the best things was that you got to know a new set of people – the wall screens came on when your meal was served and you could talk to the others on the same holiday.

The best trip was Scarborough although the guided tour round the amusement arcade was a disappointment. You couldn’t put the money in the slot yourself and you had to give it to your holiday assistant. Alice’s favourite was the machine where you tried to grab the soft toy by lowering the little crane. Roger, Alice’s helper, was quite good at it although he didn’t always act quickly enough when she said “up”, “down”, “left” or “right”. Anyway, after several tries, she did win a pink and white toy elephant which they brought to her at the hotel after it had been disinfected.

Archaos
Cirque Revolutionnaire 1988

The worst trip was to Robin Hoods Bay. Alice had hoped to go to Whitby – the Dracula Special. She’d heard that you could book a visit to Dracula’s lair to see his coffin open up and then take part in a prize draw to win a genuine jet-stone bracelet. But Whitby was fully booked and they could only give her the Smuggler Experience in Robin Hoods Bay. When it turned out that the highlight was a boat trip along the coast to look at caves with an actor dressed in a tricorne hat – she wished she was at home with a takeaway and TV.

But now they had announced that provided you had the funds to pay, you could book a holiday abroad. It was more expensive than anything she’d been on before and there was lots of small print to read through before you were allowed to book. Most of it was to make sure you didn’t take out a court case against the holiday company if you weren’t satisfied afterwards.

Then there was an online questionnaire to fill in. They asked you questions about your age, height and weight; then the usual health questions - the number of vaccinations you’d had, how many times you’d had the virus and how much time you had spent in hospital. If you got below a certain number of points you were in.

The choice of holiday destination was quite small though and they were all in Europe. There was Paris, Budapest, Lisbon, Berlin and Vienna. Budapest, Lisbon and Berlin all sounded a bit too foreign but Paris and Vienna sounded good. In Paris you could visit a fashion house and choose an outfit then later go to the Moulin Rouge.

But Vienna had everything. As soon as you arrived you were given coffee with chocolates, then there was trip down the Danube, followed by a meal of Wiener Schnitzel and apple strudel with cream to finish. Best of all, whatever time of year you went, they would put on the New Year’s Day concert at the State Opera House for you. Alice couldn’t wait – she particularly wanted to watch the performing horses of the Spanish Riding School.

Alice pressed the button for “Book Now” and “Premium Package” then after a few seconds the message on the screen said “Your holiday has been confirmed for Thursday 4th June. Departure time 11 am. Your journey prep package will be delivered 4 days beforehand. Check in at our Milton Keynes travel bureau by 9am. Enjoy your trip!”

A courier delivered the prep package early on 31^st  May. Inside was a wristband and large box. After Alice had strapped on the wristband and activated it, the box clicked and opened. Inside were the prep tablets with instructions, the sound player and headphones and the departure lounge footwear and clothing. For the next four days Alice took the tablets each night, turned on the sound player and put on the headphones before going to sleep.

Well before 9am on the 4^th June Alice walked into the travel bureau in Milton Keynes. She was given boarding pass number 38, directed to one of the cubicles and changed into her plastic crocs and light blue departure gown. When she went to her allotted place in the departure lounge, she looked around in excitement. Although they were quite a distance from her, the other 50 or so people looked quite good fun.

When the staff called your number for boarding, you stood in front of an automatic door made of frosted glass and held up your wristband. Then the door opened there were two people there to greet you. They then led you to your own pod. There you had to strip naked so that they could fit the body suit and the head set before you lay down in the module. As soon as the lid was put down, the journey began.

A week later Alice was home. She let herself back into her flat, turned on the lights and her computer. It had been a brilliant holiday with no hitches except for the last couple of hours delay at the airport coming back. By that time Alice and her new gang of friends were so pleased to spend the extra time together that they hardly noticed. After all it gave them extra time to shop in the Duty Free. Alice had got chocolates for her mum, and a baseball cap for her little brother with “Vienna Rocks” written on it.

 Archaos
Cirque Revolutionnaire 1988

Alice opened up her page on Face Book. According to the notifications she had 22 new friend requests, 10 new messages and 45 updates. Two of the messages were from her mum and little brother. Their presents had obviously arrived already. She started going through the updates – most of them were “Likes” or “Loves” people had put on her new photos from the holiday. The picture of her stroking the horse’s neck was the most popular. The video of the boat trip down the Danube at night got plenty of “likes”. Then later that night the shot of her lying down along the laps of four of the lads had a comment from one of her oldest friends “greedy girl” with a shock-face emoji.

Alice sat back. Yes, it had been a brilliant holiday. Everything she would have expected.  Maybe she would go to Paris next year if she could afford it.     

The time I almost......

The time I almost impressed a soul legend.

It was 1966 and my friend Cyn and I were off to meet a soul legend. We were sure that by breathing the same air as him even for a few minutes we would become imbued with star qualities and he would fall hopelessly in love with us.

Cyn was not my friend’s real name. It was short for Cynthia after Cynthia Lennon who was then John Lennon’s wife. My friend had adopted the name to show which Beatle had her absolute allegiance and presumably - when the time came - to let him know she was prepared to join him in holy matrimony.

Alexis Korner
by Heinrich Klaffs

But this soul legend was not John Lennon. It was Alexis Korner. If you have to ask who Alexis Korner is – that simply shows how uncool you are and always will be. 

We’d learned in those crucial years between 12 and 14 that you never let on you don’t know who someone is. 

You just nod as though you know - then rush off later to find out from someone’s older brother. 

We’d spent time hanging out in the Fighting Cocks in Birmingham’s
Moseley village drinking pints of mild (the cheapest at one and a penny) while studiously ignoring the “Moseley crowd” who we fancied the pants off but would never, never let on.

The Moseley crowd were a bunch of fiercely sharp mods who wore single-breasted collarless jackets and ankle boots. They made special trips down to London to buy their kit. They also bought soul music on discs that had been imported from the States. Naturally anything in the top 10 was below their notice.  

Cyn and I learned quickly that a conversation with one of the Moseley crowd could be improved by dropping names. We did our research and peppered our chat by mentioning the likes of Sam and Dave, the Temptations, and the Bar Kays (a good one as you could always mention the tragic plane crash).

But knowledge was not enough, the way you talked had to be moderated. Any sort of enthusiasm was severely frowned upon. We cultivated a look of boredom and disinterest saving our excitement until we were well out of their gaze. We’d nip off to the Ladies where we could yell, scream and jump up and down bellowing the name of the lad we fancied before walking back out with our faces rearranged into a suitably blank expression.

Now Alexis Korner was coming to play at the Birmingham Arts Centre so we might get a chance to meet him. Here was a man who was seriously exotic – someone told us that he was related to Jimi Hendrix, someone else said he was Greek and we all knew he was definitely born in Paris. Cyn and I had tried to find the exoticism in ourselves – but the best we could come up with was my Welsh father and her Irish parents. We’d have to make up for this somehow. Maybe by dressing up to the nines.

The gig was on too late for us to be allowed to go but we reckoned we’d be able to ambush Alexis as he passed by the Arts Centre coffee bar before the start.

We had dressed to impress. My trousers reached the floor – the flares so wide that they billowed as I walked. My top was a red “body” - fastened between my legs by three large press studs. Cyn was wearing a silver cat suit – we agreed it looked wonderful. I was having my doubts about wearing the top – perhaps the sizing was not quite right because when I sat down, the press studs dug into my bottom. I knew that my pained look was not going to be seductive so I rushed off the loo to release my nether regions.

Back in the coffee bar we watched the front door for signs of Alexis Korner. A kerfuffle told us that the great soul artist was arriving with his entourage. Looking splendid he moved down the corridor towards the short flight of steps leading up to the coffee bar.

We leapt up and started to walk towards him. At the top of the steps I felt my trousers wrap round my ankles. As I began to topple, I grabbed the hand rail - stopping my fall - but the momentum spun me round so that I presented my rear end to the bemused musician - the red flap of the body protruding from the top of my trousers like an enraged baboon.

I thought Cyn was doing better. What I hadn’t realised was that she had jumped off her stool and put her right foot into a waste paper basket, her chunky shoe fitting neatly into the bin - her foot tightly gripped. After trying to shake it off by waving her leg about she made the best of it and advanced down the stairs creating an almighty clank each time she put her foot down.

. “Alexis” we both said together. As he saw us, he had taken a step back but immediately came forward and put out his hand. “How do you do?” he said - the epitome of an English gentleman. He shook both our hands and then disappeared off down the corridor to the studio. At the open door stood a gaggle of young men, smoothing their hair down and adjusting the buttons on their single-breasted jackets.

Here's a link to info on Alexis Korner. You have permission to name drop. 

---

This piece was written and performed for the event 
The time I almost .. 

http://thetimeialmost.com/events/

convened and hosted by Alexis Strum

Why Norman Wisdom's suit didn't fit

You can still occasionally hear the phrase "demob happy." What it means is the feeling that you are about to be released from something which has weighed down your spirits - in particular the experience of life at war. It is difficult to imagine what it was like to grow up during World War Two. You were old enough to understand everything but too young to do anything about it. 

Walton, Liverpool after the blitz

My mother was nearly 13 when war broke out in 1939 (she was born in November 1926) . She tells me “We thought it would all be over in a few weeks”. As a young woman she was genuinely afraid of invasion – with German troops coming to kill them in their beds. Night after night they saw the flames over Liverpool which was bombarded – people lost their homes and all their possessions and the refugees from the fires came to Aughton’s village church for safety and protection. 

School life during the war
During the war there was only part-time school – mornings only – punctuated by practice with gas masks.
As time went on and my mother grew older she could do things to help with the war effort - if there was an air raid over Liverpool she would put on her Girl Guide uniform and go to the local church to help those fleeing from the fire. Among other duties she would take down and record people’s names and warm up milk for the babies’ bottles. 

But she wanted to get more involved and she joined the armed forces as soon as she was old enough to do so. It wasn’t until March 1945 that she was old enough to sign up.

Queen Elizabeth visits her daughter in the ATS

Nearly all women wanted to join the Women’s Royal Naval Service commonly known as the WRENs. But there were no longer any places – so my mother and her friend joined the Auxiliary Territorial Service or ATS as it was known.



Although we now know that the war was about to come to an end there was still plenty to do to get supplies and ordinance out to the troops and this is what my mother was involved in - typing orders for the deployment of tanks, and other vehicles such as bathhouses and de-lousing vehicles which needed to be sent to the front. The family joke was that as soon as my mother had joined the war effort it was only a matter of time before Hitler gave in and it ended!

The end in sight 

The death of Hitler was announced on April 30^th 1945 but creating a peaceful Europe was not an overnight thing. The indicators were there but depending on where you were “peace breaking out” was a gradual incident by incident process and treaty by treaty. The German High Command surrendered on the 2nd of May, and signed formal papers on the 8th.  Victory in Europe day was celebrated on the same day.

Crowds at Piccadilly on VE Day

More than 1 million people celebrated in the streets to mark the end of the European part of the war

It is said that Princess Elizabeth (the future Queen Elizabeth II) and her sister Princess Margaret were allowed to wander incognito among the crowds and take part in the celebrations. There was a recent film made on this subject and while it is an intriguing thought I personally doubt this would have been allowed to happen.

Planning for peace
At the end of the Second World War, there were approximately five million servicemen and servicewomen in the British armed forces. The de-mobilisation and re-assimilation of this vast force back into civilian life was one of the first and greatest challenges facing the postwar British government.

The demobilisation plan
The wartime Minister of Labour and National Service, Ernest Bevin was the chief architect of the demobilisation plan, which was unveiled to the public on September 22, 1944. Servicemen and servicewomen who were to be released from the armed forces were given a number (my mother was in Group 66). This was calculated from their age and the months they had served in uniform. A small number of so-called 'key men' whose occupational skills were vital to postwar reconstruction were released ahead of their turn. Married women and men aged fifty or more were also given immediate priority.

As a young unmarried woman my mother would have been lower down in the list of priorities than some others. She remembers being sent to Edinburgh as part of the demob process where they had lectures and outings and were able to see the operetta “Song of Norway” written by Robert Wright and George Forrest.  

The Demob suit

A demob suit was a suit of civilian clothes given to all men when they were demobbed. The firm of Montague Burton made the suits and Burton's tailors are still with us today. It is also where the term “the full Monty” comes from although in its original sense it meant the full set of clothing and supplies – not as in the film of the same name – the full birthday suit! Although the suits were of good quality, the need to clothe millions of demobilising servicemen led to supply problems that caused some men to receive suits that were not of the correct size. As a result, the demob suit became a common subject in British comedy of the post-war years. Sleeves and trousers too short or too long and jackets too tight around the chest.

An example is Norman Wisdom’s stage suit which was tight and only just fitted across the chest.

Frankie Howerd one of a whole generation of British comedians who started their career immediately after demobilisation, performed in a badly fitting demob suit, possibly because he had nothing else to wear. This became part of his stage persona - heightening the delight of his audience in the awkward character he had created.

I was born in July 1950 – after the end of the Second World War in Europe but on the day that the Korean War started. Victory in Europe and the peace that followed is dear to my heart although I was born well after it was announced. I now know what a privilege it was to grow up in the 1950s while the welfare state was being established and the foundations of a free Europe were being built.

For a few dollars more

What follows is a short story "Bugaboo" based on fact. It is set in the USA and Paris in the run up to the Watergate scandal that led to the impeachment of Richard Nixon. It was also the time that the USA unilaterally dropped the international gold standard - for currency valuation - replacing it with the dollar.

The fictional characters are Salvatore Fiumfreddo writing to his friend Donald (also a fictional character) about the purchase of a hotel which would later be used for the Bretton Woods conference. Dwight Hudson works for Cable and Wireless and later for President Richard Nixon at the White House. In Paris Marie-Claude Drapeau and her cousin visit the Eiffel Tower. Patrick Feeney is a shipping correspondent.

Richard Nixon is not a fictional character although the taped conversations with his friends and aides are imagined.

The incident with the French war ship stuffed with dollars is not fictional. 

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

BUGABOO

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$                                                                                                           

Salvatore Fiumfreddo

                                                                             Somerville Heights

                                                                             Boston MA

4^th January '44

Happy New Year Donald,

We got your card and thanks for the photo of your kids. Hope you got ours.

It’s surely going to be a good year all round. Our luck has changed. No more holding onto the blinds and looking at the drop from the top floor. The East Boston investment syndicate has come out laughing. You weren’t wasting your money.

Mount Washington Hotel: Bretton Woods

You remember that beat up old hotel in Washington Mount? The one we bought for a song? Rusting windows, leaking roof and all. But a great setting - Bretton Woods, New Hampshire. Well it was worth doing it up – guess what? We’ve made our money back. Roosevelt has booked it solid for July – from 1st for nearly the whole month - every last room. He’s bankrolled us to the tune of $300,000. Then $18 for every guest per day. Bradley who is doing the math tells me that this will keep us in knee socks for life.

But I’m thinking there’s more to it than meets the eye. I had a drink with Herb from the Boston Globe. He only does sports stories so I guess they tell him things that they think will go over his head. More fool them. He tells me the top financiers from the Fed and the banks have invited people from all over the world to the conference. Even the Ruskies will be there. There’ll be more than 40 countries and several hundred hangers on. Some kind of treaty or agreement – world-wide. Encourage international trade and exchange. Not that I can think of much we’ll want to buy out there. A magnum of champagne maybe if the French have kept some hidden. They’ll be desperate to get some dollars now the war is all over bar the shouting.

The syndicate needs to take stock and see the order through. So it might be some time before you see the profit. You’ll be sure to get your slice but in the meantime don’t forget the golf course out there. Let me know and we’ll play a round or two before the big shots arrive. It’s got 27 holes – and more than one club house to take a rest in.

Yours as always

Sal

P.S. Buy as much gold as you can lay your hands on. Do it now. Don’t wait until June – and keep it quiet.

**********************************************************

Paris Metro

July 1969

Dwight Hudson was an intern when he visited Paris with the American company Cable and Wireless. On his afternoon off he went to visit the Eiffel Tower where he took a photo of the

place where Buffalo Bill had signed the visitor’s book. A model of Thomas Edison’s phonograph was on show.

Marie-Claude Drapeau was wearing the latest in Paris fashion – a long kilt over the knee, white tights and a short, tight cardigan with pearl buttons. Her dark hair was cut in an angular style as much like Mary Quant as her hairdresser could manage. Nearly every Parisian teenage girl was wearing something similar. A few British tourists looked out of place with their long tapestry skirts and home-made beads. At the top of the tower the wind threw their long hair over their faces.

Marie-Claude’s cousin Francine was visiting from Montreal and was explaining how General de Gaulle’s plan had been to take the Eiffel Tower piece by piece over to Quebec for the Montreal EXPO in 1967. Marie Claude was amazed.

-      Cela ne peut pas être vrai. Es-tu sûr?

[It can’t be true. Are you sure?]

Francine was a couple of years older than Marie-Claude and at 18 felt she understood more about international affairs.

- Oui, la tour est un bel exploit d'ingénierie. Mais c'était impossible. Mon père m'a dit que le gouvernement canadien avait opposé son veto. C'est honteux..

[Yes the tower is a great feat of engineering. But it was impossible. My father told me that the Canadian government vetoed it. It’s such a shame.]

- Mais je pensais que Montréal etait la capitale.

[But I thought that Montreal is the capital city.]

- Oui, tu as raison - la capitale du Québec. Seulement le Québec mais pas le Canada.

[Yes you are right - the capital of Quebec. Only Quebec but not Canada.]

- Pourquoi cet homme nous regarde-t-il?

[Why is that man staring at us?]

The two young women were about to get into the lift and Dwight couldn’t leave it any longer.  

- Bonjour jeune filles. Can I take you for coffee?

Francine looked at Marie-Claude and Marie Claude looked at Francine. Being called little girls wasn’t the problem but the young women generally did not drink coffee with strangers. But this stranger so obviously did not understand the rules. “Sorry no” said Francine “Yes please” said Marie Claude. Marie-Claude liked the young man’s perfect white teeth, she didn’t like his chewing gum but she liked his chinos and plaid shirt.  Dwight asked again and this time he said “just 10 minutes”. Marie-Claude led the way. It was, after all, her city and Francine was as much a visitor as this young man.

Francine lit a Gauloise and looked out of the window. It was a total pain having this oaf come along with them. He looked like every other Anglo Saxon she saw in the supermarket. When the family spent their holiday in Ontario they were everywhere. Pink and white and blond and overfed. To make things worse, it turned out that Marie-Claude quite liked speaking English.

-       Yes I have five years learning English in school. What do you learn?

-       I study engineering and business studies.

Francine muttered

-       Mon dieu.

Dwight kept going.

-       Do you know the Beach Boys?

-       No we have the hits with Johnny ‘allyday and Sylvie Vartan.

-       Did you say Johnny Holiday?

-       No ‘allyday.

-       Johnny Holiday sounds like an American name. We have Billy Holiday.

-       I don’t know him. Johnny ‘alliday is definitely French. He makes good shows with his wife, Sylvie. They are a popular couple.

-       Like Sonny and Cher?

-       I don’t know, maybe. Is Cher French?

-       She could be – she’s dark haired and good looking like you.

Francine stubbed out her cigarette and whispered.

-       Imbecile.

Dwight moved closer to Marie-Claude

-       I’ll send you a record – give me your address. I’ll write to you too.

-       You must not – my father would not allow it.

-       He wouldn’t know.

-       Of course he would know. The post man would tell him.

-       So how can I speak to you?

-       You could telephone me at my work - maybe once a month for a few minutes. But it is so expensive……

-       I’ll find a way.

Francine turned round and said to Dwight.

-       Connaissez-vous le débat entre nos ingénieurs et les architectes sur la valeur de la tour Eiffel? Par exemple, Maupassant a décidé d'y déjeuner tous les jours car c'était le seul endroit qui ne permettait pas de voir la tour elle-même. 

[Are you familiar with the debate between our engineers and architects of the value of the Eiffel Tower? For example Maupassant decided to have lunch there every day because it was the only place that does not give a view of the tower itself.]

Dwight nodded and said

-       Thank you, thank you - yes 

Francine stood up and said to Marie-Claude.

-       Allons-y. L'homme est un idiot. Au revoir Monsieur.

[Let's go. The man is an idiot. Good bye, sir.]

*********************************************************************************

5th July 1971

Patrick Feeney  - the New York Times shipping correspondent was trying to get his copy out in time for the July independence holiday weekend. He was standing at his desk speaking into his phone.

-       There’s what? A ship! A warship! Whose warship? A French warship! You must be kidding me. Where? In the harbour. Are they firing at us? Is it trying to dock?

    

-       Don’t tell me to calm down. I’m quite calm. I just want to know what the f**k is going on.

-       The hold is packed with dollars. Say that again. They’ve shipped millions of dollars back to us. This is a joke. It’s a finger up to us.    

-       They’ve come to get their gold. What do you mean? Their gold? What gold?   

-       Oh really - The gold with Banque de France stamped on it.

-       Where is it? How should I know? It’s in the Fed I guess. Somewhere in the building? You don’t know – well I don’t know.  

-       OK De Gaulle refused to speak to the president. So the president already phoned him about all this? F*cker yourself.

-       Oh Volker – Volker the man at the Fed. Read it out to me. -  Slowly.

-       French Gold reserves deposited in New York with the Federal Reserve Bank.

-       Now they want them back. Just like that?

-       They’ve got the dollars. They’re giving them back. They don’t want them - they want the gold instead? There must be millions. Billions even. They gonna put them in the dock like the tea? Or fire them over the quay from their cannons?    

-       I’m not being stupid. The whole thing’s insane. It must have taken the French Navy weeks to get this ship over here.       

-       Do we have to give them the gold? Yes OK I guess we have to. If they’re paying off what they borrowed they have to get something in return and it ain’t going to be Francs.  

-       Give me a pile of dollars any time. I know what that’s worth and how many drinks it will buy.

******************************************************************************************************

15^th August 1971

The Oval Office

The White House, Washington DC  

Dwight’s job was deputy personal assistant - telephony and communications: the office of the President of the United States.

President Richard Nixon was at Camp David with all the Treasury officials and the bankers. They were set to be there for days.

In the semi-circular ante-room there were no windows but with the door open Dwight could see enough to get by without turning on the lights and air conditioning. Normally when the president was in his suite the door would be closed and any visitor would be unaware that the section of the bookshelf with the Encyclopaedia Britannica and Gibbons Decline and Fall hid a desk, phone and a bank of reel-to-reel tape recorders.

When there were telephone calls or anything else recorded Dwight had to copy the tapes and store them in the vault. While he was copying the tapes for the previous week Dwight kept the audio running to log the names of the people the president had spoken to. There were conversations with Arthur Burns the Fed Chairman, John Connally the Treasury Secretary and Paul Volker.

The president had a great way with them all.

-       Look Art, you know we can’t let the Frogs and the Japs screw us. We won’t let them have us over a barrel. You’ve got the juice in the Reserve they can’t have us by the pips too.

-       Jack – dollars should be good enough for them – so we can tell that snail-munching boy scout to go screw himself.

-       You’re right Paul – I’m pleased you said it – you are with us guys - we ran things since Bretton Woods, we nailed the Germans – then we bailed everyone out. They should be thanking us for saving them.

-       John – just tell him we bought every ounce of that gold from our own good citizens – ranchers, butchers, even schoolteachers. We’re keeping it safe for the rest of the world.

-       Pat I’m gonna be making a speech about this dollar thing. Give me a word for spook that isn’t spook. No not phantom – more homey than a phantom. Something a kid might see in the woodshed. Genie - no that’s too foreign. Yes heebie jeebie – why not? I’ll say don’t get the heebie jeebies.

-       Keep talking to the Chinks - Henry – if I have to go over there myself I will. You don’t have to play ping pong just let them win. If they’ll put a rocket up the Soviets I’ll kiss every one of their little yellow asses.

The tapes were the president’s little secret. He liked looking at the tape recording machine and watching it go round. He didn’t trust many people so he wanted to make sure he had their words on tape. Dwight and the president sometimes talked about these new-fangled things and the president was one of the few people who liked to hear what Dwight said about new inventions. He did not laugh when Dwight told him to invest in Cable and Wireless because every home would want a tape machine for their telephone in only a few year’s time.

In the two years Dwight had been in the job no-one had ever asked him about the tapes. Maybe they didn’t know. Anyway someone took notes at all the meetings and then the writing and rewriting for the official record went on for days at a time. 

It was 6 o’clock in Washington and 1 o’clock in Paris. It couldn’t be a better time for his call to Marie-Claude.

Dwight sat at the desk and leaned back. He couldn’t bring himself to put his feet up. If someone came in he could always say he was testing the line. He picked up the phone. The line was open. It was always open. The unbroken dialling tone ebbed and flowed.

Dwight pressed the foot pedal and turned off the voice activation switch on the tape recorder. Taking care to avoid the blue button he pressed E for Europe and dialled the Elysee Palace extension 31.

-       Marie Claude are you there?

-       Oui - Yes of course

-       Can you hear me?

-       You are very close I think?

-       No only about 4 thousand miles away.

-       How many kilometres is that?

-       A lot more – several thousand I think.

-       Six , sept, huit?

-       The cable, the cable under the sea that’s why it’s so clear. 

-       The cable transatlantic?

-       Yes laid down by us and the Brits.

-       What does it mean the Brits?

-       The British – you know – the English.

-       Oh you mean the English? No that’s not right – it goes to the New found land too

-       Where’s that?

-       Canada

-       Yes well still North America. Is your boss there?

-       No it is August he is having his holiday.

-       President’s not here either but he’s not on holiday or so they say – they’re at Camp David. Supposed to be a big secret.

-       Sounds like a holiday. We say le camping.

-       Le weekend, le beefsteak…

-       Le bifteck is not what you think.

-       Le sandwich, le Scotch tape

-       OK OK it’s not really permitted.

-       The general isn’t around now?

-       Look - I have to serve the coffee if someone comes.

-       Can’t they serve themselves?

-       No that would not be right.

-       But I thought you had a big job there. Isn’t that what you said?

-       Yes it is a big job I am part of the Aide de Camp. Like a soldier camp – but no fighting.

-       Making coffee.

-       It is important.

-       Can I come to Paris again?

-       Of course – you can meet papa this time. He’s back from his travels now. You can stay with us. I can take you to the Louvre and the Tuileries.

-       Where does he go your papa?

-       Oh all over – he doesn’t always say.

-       He must say something.

-       Yes he says – he’s off for a few weeks or a few months.

-       What is his job?

-       He’s a navigator on a boat.

-       What - a cruise ship?

-       No they don’t cruise - they are defence ships.

-       The French Navy?

-       Yes of course.

****************************************************************************************

Address to the Nation Outlining a New Economic Policy: 'The Challenge of Peace.' August 15, 1971. 

United States President Richard Nixon's address announcing the temporary suspension of the dollar's convertibility into gold.

Richard Nixon

In recent weeks, the speculators have been waging an all-out war on the American dollar. The strength of a nation’s currency is based on the strength of that nation’s economy – and the American economy is by far the strongest in the world. Accordingly, I have directed the Secretary of the Treasury to take the action necessary to defend the dollar against the speculators.

I have directed Secretary Connally to suspend temporarily the convertibility of the American dollar except in amounts and conditions determined to be in the interest of monetary stability and in the best interests of the United States.

Now, what is this action – which is very technical – what does it mean for you?

Let me lay to rest the bugaboo of what is called devaluation.

If you want to buy a foreign car or take a trip abroad, market conditions may cause your dollar to buy slightly less. But if you are among the overwhelming majority of Americans who buy American-made products in America, your dollar will be worth just as much tomorrow as it is today.

The effect of this action, in other words, will be to stabilize the dollar.

********************************************************************************************************

January 1972

The president is on the phone in the Oval office. The door to the ante room is closed. The shelves of the bookcase show the Encyclopaedia Britannica and Gibbons Decline and Fall.

- Gordon Gordon – you’re the guy who can do it. You were Hoover’s man now you’re mine. We’ve got to find out what those Commies are up to.

OK not Commies Pinkos then. We can’t let the Democrats get back in.

Yes I talked to Ehrlichman and he’s with us. Get into that swanky building they’ve hired.

The primaries are coming up and we need to make a stink – find something on them. Screw up their lists – find out who’s funding them and get some dirt. Put in some phone taps and hide some bugs.

I’ve been talking to a kid in my office - he knows every last thing about tape recorders. If we can get them on tape we’ll know what they’re planning. The we can book a TV spot the day before they do, get to their senators – find out who they’re doing business with.

We’ll keep it quiet – so I’ll say we are talking about plumbing. I’ll mention water and pipes and you’ll know what I mean. We want to crawl into their basements and their attics and find the way in. Seems to fit with the name of the damn building. Watergate. Yes, yes it does.

Gordon you know I trust you.  

No nobody knows I’m speaking to you, nobody at all.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

12^th June ‘72

Dear Marie-Claude

I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. You won’t be seeing me in Paris this year. I’ll have to come later. Maybe next year. Tell your dad “Hi” from me. I working on a really important piece of work. I won’t be able to travel for a while and I can only make phone calls to the USA - not even to Canada. I can’t tell you much more than that.

I won’t forget you.

Yours truly

Dwight

***********************************************************************************
NOTES

• The Coinage Act was passed by the United States Congress on June 27, 1834. This pegged the value of the dollar to gold. 

• The French franc was a gold coin introduced in 1360 to pay the Ransom of King John II of France.  In January 1960 the French franc was revalued, with 100 existing francs making one nouveau franc. A major devaluation occurred (11% in August 1969) before the Bretton Woods system was replaced by free-floating exchange rates.

• The Bretton Woods Conference, held in July 1944 was the gathering of 730 delegates from all 44 Allied nations at the Mount Washington Hotel, situated in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, United States.