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By Root 2732 0

requested at the beginning of the campaign that I should be — against the background of cheering crowds, or doing something which fitted in with the theme of the day. The media — far more I suspect than the general public — were entranced by the highly polished party election broadcast showing Neil and Glenys walking hand in hand, bathed in a warm glow of summer sunlight, to strains of patriotic music, looking rather like an advertisement for early retirement. This probably encouraged them to give favourable coverage to the Kinnock tours. And what was I doing on Wednesday? I was visiting a training centre for guide dogs for the blind. The symbolism and significance were lost not just on the media but on me too — and much as I enjoyed looking at the dogs, they did not have a vote. I felt that I was not meeting enough real people. I was going to too many factories and firms. This was partly because of the very tight constraints on security which dictated the tour programme. But the basic strategy was wrong because the tour was organized around photo-opportunities — and no one was seeing the photos.

I began to improvise a little on my own account. That afternoon on our way back from the West Country I had the coach stop at a farm shop, plentifully stocked with bacon, chutney and cream. The following press coaches stopped too and we all piled into the shop. I bought cream and everyone seemed to follow suit. This, I felt, had been my personal contribution to the rural economy; perhaps we might even get some reasonable television film footage at last.

D-14 TO D-7

One week into the campaign and in spite of our own difficulties the political situation was still favourable. Our lead in the polls was holding up. Indeed, the polls recorded little net change in party strength during the campaign, though as will be seen there were a few rogue polls which caused some alarm. There had been a big erosion of support for the Alliance, whose campaign was marred by splits and that basic incoherence which is the nemesis of people who eschew principle in politics. Neil Kinnock kept away from the main London-based journalists and Bryan Gould took most of the press conferences. By the second week, however, this tactic was beginning to rebound and the Fleet Street press were becoming frustrated and critical: they were able to cross-question me day after day and they expected to enjoy a similar sport with the Leader of the Opposition. In this they were enthusiastically encouraged by Norman Tebbit, who by temperament and talent was perfectly suited to maul Neil Kinnock and did so effectively in successive speeches as the campaign wore on.

Thursday’s press conference was on the NHS. Norman Fowler had devised a splendid illustration of new hospitals built throughout Britain, marked by lights on a map which were lit up when he pressed a switch. Like the Kinnocks’ election broadcast, I had him repeat the performance by popular demand. Sadly, like so much of the campaign, it did not come over properly on television. The press conference went smoothly. But what was worrying me, as usual, was my speech that evening in Solihull.

We had worked on the draft late until 3.30 a.m. but I was still not happy with it. I continued to break away to work on it whenever I could during the day — that is when I was not meeting candidates, talking to regional editors, admiring Jaguars at the factory and then meeting crowds at the Home and Garden exhibition at the Birmingham NEC. As soon as we arrived at Dame Joan Seccombe’s house — she is one of the Party’s most committed volunteers — I left the others to enjoy her hospitality and closeted myself away with with my speech writers, working frantically on the text right up to the last moment. For some mysterious reason the more you all suffer in preparing a speech, the better it turns out to be and this speech was very good indeed. It contained one wounding passage which drew a roar of approval from the audience:

Never before has the Labour Party offered the country a defence policy of such recklessness. It has talked