The annual release of State papers under the 30-year rule is of course of huge interest to historians and to anyone at all interested in political goings-on in this State. I (myself) am particularly interested in the account in Tuesday's paper of what was headlined "Callaghan's lunchtime diplomacy." This was the story of a three-hour lunch in London in 1970 involving the Irish ambassador of the day and Mr James Callaghan, newly out of a job as Home Secretary when Harold Wilson was replaced by Edward Heath.
The conversation was about the ongoing crisis in Northern Ireland and the reform of its government.
Three-hour lunches were of course one of the great cultural highlights of the 1970s, both in Dublin and in London. Frowned on in these dreary, work-dominated days, they were almost mandatory at that time, particularly for those of us in the glamorous intertwined worlds of politics, diplomacy, advertising and the media. As it happened, I was in the Gay Hussar on the day of the now-famous Callaghan lunch, and not only that, but was at the very table: for of course the State papers refer only to the principals involved (the Irish ambassador and Mr Callaghan), and omit to mention myself and my opposite number, Ernest Thorpe-Twigginson, both of us junior diplomats, eager to learn our trade.
Though a trifle pompous in manner, with a tendency to bring Eton into the conversation as often as possible, Ernest was a courteous young man, and I could see straightaway we would get on famously.
However, I surreptitiously took my own notes at the lunch, and can at last release them to the public, under the 30-year rule. We decided from the outset to let the ambassador and Mr Callaghan carry on their business with as little direct input from ourselves as possible. Indeed we drank to this: Ernest had a schooner of what my notes say he described as "excellent" sherry while I ordered a rather large glass of Mateus Rose, which according to my notes "turned out to be red wine". Ernest now said he had "no doubts at all" that the prawn cocktail would prove a "good choice" as a starter, and I graciously concurred, approving his "admirable initiative." Ernest then asked the waiter ("my good man") to bring us a bottle of Moulin de Gassac Elise, but I countered with a suggestion that as our starters were fish, a bottle of white, "perhaps a Domaine de Montplasir Chardonnay (Viognier Cuvee)?" might prove "a more appropriate" accompaniment. I caught a "nod of approval" from the Irish ambassador at this point and saw Ernest "flush slightly". Not wanting to damage the budding friendship between Ernest and myself, however, I decided not to "push the advantage" and suggested we have his choice of wine with our main course.
From that point, Ernest and I got on "splendidly." Over the "perfectly underdone" roast beef, Ernest confided in me some of his romantic "difficulties". He was apparently "unhappy" with his current girlfriend, who was "rather bossy" and had his eye on another young woman, but his mother was "not an enthusiast for a change in this direction." His father meanwhile "still had strong reservations" about Ernest's break-up with a previous girlfriend; he felt the current situation was "untenable" and believed it would "disintegrate quickly because it has no genuine basis of cohesion."
I was apparently a little "unsure of my footing" at this stage, but my notes do not make it clear if this was a metaphorical position or a physical reaction to the Moulin de Gassac Elise, of which we were now having a second, "even better" bottle. We then arrived at a rather worrying diplomatic impasse, for just as I ordered "dessert", Ernest ordered "pudding". Since we had both settled on jelly and ice-cream, I felt "unable to depart" from my position that this "did in no way constitute pudding". Ernest however saw the "big picture", and felt we did not need "to torment ourselves" over a form of words. He argued for an approach of "benevolent neutrality" while I expressed my fears that a "very special formula" might have to be found. The waiter, "to give him his due" stood by "impassively" as we tried to reach a compromise. Finally, we agreed to order the "third course", without "express mention" of either pudding or dessert, and thus the crisis was "satisfactorily resolved." To celebrate this successful conclusion to our talks, Ernest and I ordered a "good big bottle" of Alan Thient Grande Cuvee Chapmagne, and at this stage, my notes are unfortunately no longer legible.