【Full Steam Ahead】S0……
hick with the heavy st of diesel. The split-flap departure board issued its crisp "clack-clack-clack," updating infortion for trains to Readier, Plyuth, and the end of the line—Penzance.
An Austin official car pulled up outside the station.
Charles stepped out.
Cyril followed close behind, clutg a heavy briefcase taining two speeches, background terials, a list of ergency tacts, and other ies.
"I''''ve booked two adjoining first-class sleeper partnts, nuers 11 and 12. The trais at 23:45. I''''ve spoken with the carriage attendant; he''''ll be waiting for us in the lounge," he reported in a low voice.
After a brief stop in the first-class waiting roo they were guided by a train guard wearing an arand towards the platfor where the dark blue livery of the night sleeper, elazoned with the British Rail double-arrow logo, rested silently oracks.
Due to Charles''''s packed schedule on Tuesday, they had to take "The Night ishn" to reach their destination at the south-western tip of the try by the following
The trai out a long whistle, leaving London behind as it sliced through the darkness. The sea breeze brought a salty, da tang that ngled with the sll of diesel.
At the ternus of the Great Western in line, a liaison officer frothe local cil was already waiting on the platfor He escorted Charles, who had ged into a brown tweed jacket, and a sowhat anxious Cyril into an official car.
The cries of seagulls were incessant, the salty air now tinged with a deeper sll of fish. The diesel sll, however, reiant.
The drive froPenzao Newlyn was short. Around a bend, the full panora of Newlyn Harbour ca into view.
Rust-streaked, listless trawlers... and colourful bunting that stood out starkly against the lead-grey sky.
"They''''re pretending the other does," Cyril heard Charles say. "Funeral a."
---
The senar was held in a veeorarily verted froan old fish rket warehouse.
The light was di the atsphere oppressive. Twenty-odd fishern''''s representatives were squeezed onto the seats below, wearing old oilskins over their sweaters, their faces deeply etched by the sea wind.
"Friends, fellow fishern..." Charles walked slowly onto the "stage," which was only a siep higher than the floor. His voice sounded slightly distorted through the rudintary sound syste "Good My na is Charles Hyde. The gover has given a very long title—Secretary of State for Synergy Coordination. I know that for ny of you, this title sounds like so kind of abstract joke. Frankly, sotis I think so too."
He paused, his eyes sing every face.
"I guess what you''''re thinking right now. Another politi froLondon who ''''t tell a cod froa haddock, here to read us a pre-written, aningless speech. He''''ll say so hings about ''''listening'''', ''''uanding'''', or ''''w together'''', the on a train back to his waroffid fet all about us and our troubles. AI right?"
A rr xed with surprise and agreent rippled through the crowd, even a few chuckles. The atsphere seed to loosen slightly.
"Good." Charles nodded. "The''''s skip the platitudes. Today, this is not a gover podiu I don''''t io read you a policy white paper, and you don''''t have to be polite to . Let''''s talk frankly. I ahere because I want you to tell the truths I ''''t read in gover dots. Your proble, I know so of the but certainly not enough. Your lives, I y not be able to fully experience, but ears are open." He stepped down frothe stage and walked ang the fishern.
"Everyone here knows the sea better than I do, knows the boats better than I do, and knows the cod better than I do. You know wheor are ing, you know where to cast your s. It''''s just that now, you''''ve run into so proble you ''''t solve on your own, is that right?"
"That''''s right!" a younger fishern shouted frothe back. "The bureaucrats in Brussels, they sit in their offices and draw li
An Austin official car pulled up outside the station.
Charles stepped out.
Cyril followed close behind, clutg a heavy briefcase taining two speeches, background terials, a list of ergency tacts, and other ies.
"I''''ve booked two adjoining first-class sleeper partnts, nuers 11 and 12. The trais at 23:45. I''''ve spoken with the carriage attendant; he''''ll be waiting for us in the lounge," he reported in a low voice.
After a brief stop in the first-class waiting roo they were guided by a train guard wearing an arand towards the platfor where the dark blue livery of the night sleeper, elazoned with the British Rail double-arrow logo, rested silently oracks.
Due to Charles''''s packed schedule on Tuesday, they had to take "The Night ishn" to reach their destination at the south-western tip of the try by the following
The trai out a long whistle, leaving London behind as it sliced through the darkness. The sea breeze brought a salty, da tang that ngled with the sll of diesel.
At the ternus of the Great Western in line, a liaison officer frothe local cil was already waiting on the platfor He escorted Charles, who had ged into a brown tweed jacket, and a sowhat anxious Cyril into an official car.
The cries of seagulls were incessant, the salty air now tinged with a deeper sll of fish. The diesel sll, however, reiant.
The drive froPenzao Newlyn was short. Around a bend, the full panora of Newlyn Harbour ca into view.
Rust-streaked, listless trawlers... and colourful bunting that stood out starkly against the lead-grey sky.
"They''''re pretending the other does," Cyril heard Charles say. "Funeral a."
---
The senar was held in a veeorarily verted froan old fish rket warehouse.
The light was di the atsphere oppressive. Twenty-odd fishern''''s representatives were squeezed onto the seats below, wearing old oilskins over their sweaters, their faces deeply etched by the sea wind.
"Friends, fellow fishern..." Charles walked slowly onto the "stage," which was only a siep higher than the floor. His voice sounded slightly distorted through the rudintary sound syste "Good My na is Charles Hyde. The gover has given a very long title—Secretary of State for Synergy Coordination. I know that for ny of you, this title sounds like so kind of abstract joke. Frankly, sotis I think so too."
He paused, his eyes sing every face.
"I guess what you''''re thinking right now. Another politi froLondon who ''''t tell a cod froa haddock, here to read us a pre-written, aningless speech. He''''ll say so hings about ''''listening'''', ''''uanding'''', or ''''w together'''', the on a train back to his waroffid fet all about us and our troubles. AI right?"
A rr xed with surprise and agreent rippled through the crowd, even a few chuckles. The atsphere seed to loosen slightly.
"Good." Charles nodded. "The''''s skip the platitudes. Today, this is not a gover podiu I don''''t io read you a policy white paper, and you don''''t have to be polite to . Let''''s talk frankly. I ahere because I want you to tell the truths I ''''t read in gover dots. Your proble, I know so of the but certainly not enough. Your lives, I y not be able to fully experience, but ears are open." He stepped down frothe stage and walked ang the fishern.
"Everyone here knows the sea better than I do, knows the boats better than I do, and knows the cod better than I do. You know wheor are ing, you know where to cast your s. It''''s just that now, you''''ve run into so proble you ''''t solve on your own, is that right?"
"That''''s right!" a younger fishern shouted frothe back. "The bureaucrats in Brussels, they sit in their offices and draw li