【Full Steam Ahead】S0……
did the st effective thing possible uhe circutances. You elled their widespread anger into specific, solvable proble. Minister, you gave thehope, and you also identified tangible entry points where the DS actually intervehat is not a lie."
"Aowledging the plexity of a proble and finding its true pressure points, is the first step to solving it. You could never solve the on Fisheries Poli a single senar, and besides... it doesn''''t even fall uhe DSC''''s direct ret, Minister. roses we ''''t keep; that would only cause deeper har"
He paused for a nt, his blue eyes entirely serious. "Many proble have deep roots and ot be solved ht. It takes iense ce to even front the core issues and guide people to articulate the You de those who have been ignored feel heard, and yht their scattered hardships together before the gover. This provides the st authentic data for the subsequent... synergy and coordination. You have done everything you possibly could within your ret. You opened doors for thethat they could not push open theelves."
Charles was silent for a nt, then drained his glass of ale. The bitter lt flavour slid down his throat.
"A few doors..." he repeated softly, his gaze returning to the window. "Let''''s hope that before they o get through the largest ohe sll ones we''''ve opened will give the.. a bit of breathing roo"
---
The lunch hour slipped by ad Charles''''s refles and Cyril''''s reassurances. Led by the liaison officer, they de their way to the site of the seafood festival.
Colourful bunting slapped lily against flagpoles in the salty sea breeze. The afternoon sun failed to pee the thick cloud cover, leaving the sky a backdrop of leaden grey.
Charles stood beside a ch re forl stage than the ''s, having ged frohis tweed jacket into a light brown wool casual suit. He was engaged in polite versation with the beang Director of the Tourist Board, Alan Laert.
Laert was enthusiastically describing local specialities, and Charles sled and hough his thoughts kept drifting back to the pub window, to the fishing boats rising and falling with the tide.
As his gaze swept over the front rows of tourists, vendors, local residents, and journalists, he saw faliar faces on the periphery of the crowd—John Tregenza, young ToPenrose, and several other fishern''''s representatives frothe eting. And, of course, ny re unfaliar fishern. They just stood there silently, their expressions plex as they watched this celebration for tourists.
At two o''''clo the afternoon, the seafood festival officially began.
After the eee''''s effusive introdu, Charles walked to the cropho the tre of the stage.
"Good afternoon, Newlyn," he began, his voice carrying over a slightly crackly sound syste "Thank you to the Tourist Board for the invitation, and thank you all f out in what is... well, typical ish weather."
Charles gestured towards the grey sky and wind-battered flags, drawing a light laugh frothe audience.
"This I had the privilege of having a fraion with the fishern of Newlyn, oher side of this harbour. We talked about quotas, about enfort, about the real and pressing issues that threaten their livelihoods. It was a serious, even soleon."
The crowd quieted. The journalists iediately so attention. Cyril''''s heart leaped into his throat.
"So, as I stand here, on a stage desigo celebrate wall''''s seafood, I st adt, feelings are plex." He paused, looking early towards the fishern at the back of the crowd.
"It see like a paradox, doesn''''t it? This we were discussing a crisis of survival, and this afternoon we are celebrating a booin ption. But I ahere to say the exact opposite."
"This is not a paradox. This is the reality we st front together. We ot pretend one of these facts does just to talk about the other. I ca away frothis ''s versation with a s realisation: wall''''s fishing industry is fag struct
"Aowledging the plexity of a proble and finding its true pressure points, is the first step to solving it. You could never solve the on Fisheries Poli a single senar, and besides... it doesn''''t even fall uhe DSC''''s direct ret, Minister. roses we ''''t keep; that would only cause deeper har"
He paused for a nt, his blue eyes entirely serious. "Many proble have deep roots and ot be solved ht. It takes iense ce to even front the core issues and guide people to articulate the You de those who have been ignored feel heard, and yht their scattered hardships together before the gover. This provides the st authentic data for the subsequent... synergy and coordination. You have done everything you possibly could within your ret. You opened doors for thethat they could not push open theelves."
Charles was silent for a nt, then drained his glass of ale. The bitter lt flavour slid down his throat.
"A few doors..." he repeated softly, his gaze returning to the window. "Let''''s hope that before they o get through the largest ohe sll ones we''''ve opened will give the.. a bit of breathing roo"
---
The lunch hour slipped by ad Charles''''s refles and Cyril''''s reassurances. Led by the liaison officer, they de their way to the site of the seafood festival.
Colourful bunting slapped lily against flagpoles in the salty sea breeze. The afternoon sun failed to pee the thick cloud cover, leaving the sky a backdrop of leaden grey.
Charles stood beside a ch re forl stage than the ''s, having ged frohis tweed jacket into a light brown wool casual suit. He was engaged in polite versation with the beang Director of the Tourist Board, Alan Laert.
Laert was enthusiastically describing local specialities, and Charles sled and hough his thoughts kept drifting back to the pub window, to the fishing boats rising and falling with the tide.
As his gaze swept over the front rows of tourists, vendors, local residents, and journalists, he saw faliar faces on the periphery of the crowd—John Tregenza, young ToPenrose, and several other fishern''''s representatives frothe eting. And, of course, ny re unfaliar fishern. They just stood there silently, their expressions plex as they watched this celebration for tourists.
At two o''''clo the afternoon, the seafood festival officially began.
After the eee''''s effusive introdu, Charles walked to the cropho the tre of the stage.
"Good afternoon, Newlyn," he began, his voice carrying over a slightly crackly sound syste "Thank you to the Tourist Board for the invitation, and thank you all f out in what is... well, typical ish weather."
Charles gestured towards the grey sky and wind-battered flags, drawing a light laugh frothe audience.
"This I had the privilege of having a fraion with the fishern of Newlyn, oher side of this harbour. We talked about quotas, about enfort, about the real and pressing issues that threaten their livelihoods. It was a serious, even soleon."
The crowd quieted. The journalists iediately so attention. Cyril''''s heart leaped into his throat.
"So, as I stand here, on a stage desigo celebrate wall''''s seafood, I st adt, feelings are plex." He paused, looking early towards the fishern at the back of the crowd.
"It see like a paradox, doesn''''t it? This we were discussing a crisis of survival, and this afternoon we are celebrating a booin ption. But I ahere to say the exact opposite."
"This is not a paradox. This is the reality we st front together. We ot pretend one of these facts does just to talk about the other. I ca away frothis ''s versation with a s realisation: wall''''s fishing industry is fag struct