《No, Minister.(存一下英文版)》用其他笔名

14、【Interlude】S01E02.5 Cyril's Diary and Memos (1980.1.28-31)

　　January 30th, 1980, Wednesday | London, Pimlico | Windy
　　This morning, I knocked on the Minister's compartment door at the agreed time. He had changed into a brown tweed jacket, which made him look more approachable. He was drinking his morning tea and reading the Cornwall background materials I had provided.
　　I wished him a good morning, laid out the itinerary and the two speeches on the small table, and took out my notebook, ready to conduct the final pre-seminar analysis for him.
　　"Relax, Cyril," the Minister said, putting down the documents. "You look more nervous than I do. Worried I'll make a mess of it? Hmm?"
　　I explained that I was merely ensuring all contingency plans were in place.
　　"Contingency plans?" He raised an eyebrow and joked, asking if I had prepared a media relations strategy or had already drafted his resignation letter.
　　We had, of course, prepared a public relations strategy. It was necessary, regardless of the expected outcome.
　　At the morning seminar, the Minister's performance... exceeded my expectations. He didn't hide behind bureaucratic platitudes but walked among the fishermen, letting them have their say. He channelled their general anger into specific, solvable problems. When he said, "I can't, John," that sincere admission, followed by the promise to "call the bank in a personal capacity," though its effect was uncertain, genuinely touched a chord.
　　However, this powerful promise also carried the risk of blurring boundaries. A cabinet minister calling a bank in a personal capacity is, in itself, a form of immense pressure. It could be seen as a kind of "overreach," a violation of... certain Whitehall conventions.
　　Before lunch, as per procedure, I made a brief oral report by telephone to our office in London. It is a PPS's duty.
　　I reported the morning's events to Sir, noting that the Minister's communication with the fishermen had been very successful, turning the atmosphere from confrontational to constructive. The Minister had promised to initiate inter-departmental coordination on enforcement, pollution, and subsidies, and had also pledged to personally appeal to the bank on behalf of a fisherman facing bankruptcy.
　　Sir did not comment directly on the Minister's promises, only reminding me: "Cyril, remain vigilant. The morning's success might turn the afternoon's seafood festival into an even bigger powder keg. The fishermen's expectations of the Minister are now entirely different."
　　Then came lunch with the Minister. He spoke half to himself, half to me, reflecting on his avoidance of the Brussels issue in the morning. I affirmed his performance and offered some analysis, hoping to make him feel better. But it didn't seem very effective. The Minister appeared to have made some private decision that made me uneasy. I carefully reminded him that the fishermen might have higher expectations for the afternoon's event.
　　The afternoon... the afternoon, disaster struck.
　　The moment the seaweed was thrown at the Minister, I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest. The chaos, the cameras, the flashing lights, the cacophony of cheers and boos—it all happened too fast.
　　I rushed up to shield the Minister from the media's lenses, but it was of little use. They had already gotten more than enough photos. I escorted the Minister backstage, helped him clean up, and tried to calm his nerves. Director Lambert's "thanks" then shattered all appearances. The sudden "emergency inquiry" from the Department of the Environment, the "coincidental" early conclusion of the festival.
　　I immediately contacted the Private Office and reported the situation to Sir.
　　Sir was silent for a moment before replying, "Cyril, ensure the Minister's safety. Make no comment. Return at once. I will handle the media."
　　The journey back was much longer than the journey there. At Plymouth station, I got off to buy the evening paper and nearly missed the train. If I had run any slower, the Minister might have had to return to London alone. A lesson learned: always keep more loose change on my person.
　　When the Minister asked if I had reported the breakwater issue to Sir, I felt a pressure I had never felt before. I could only answer truthfully. The Minister's subsequent silence was heavier than any question. He seemed to understand something, and I think I began to understand something too.
　　Today's experience was far more profound than any document or memorandum.
　　I need to make sure my notebook contains everything, every detail I can remember.