TOP SECRET

MARGARET Thatcher was pro Scottish indy. How’s that for an attention grabbing revelation? 
Just a pity the explainer is so disappointing. The former Tory PM was for independence only in as much as she thought Scottish schools, like those in England and Wales, should be able to opt out of local authority control and become self-governing.
Mrs Thatcher’s proposal, only taken up by two schools in Scotland, is one of many government moves revealed in Cabinet Office files released this week by the National Archives in Kew.
Some have been published under the standard 30-year rule, under which government papers are kept secret for three decades before being passed to the Archives for release. 
Others, notably those from 1994 when John Major was in Downing Street, have emerged ahead of time under moves to eventually cut the 30-year wait to 20.
Then there are the papers not released this week, the ones deemed too sensitive and which will stay under lock and key for longer; assuming they are ever released at all. These are the ones we would all like to see, but the chances of that happening are slim to non-existent.
One thing we do know from this week’s release is that papers relating to the Profumo scandal fall into this latter category. The 30-year rule on Lord Denning’s confidential inquiry into the goings on between Cabinet minister John Profumo, a teenage Christine Keeler, and a Soviet attache, was about to expire under John Major’s rule. He was asked to say yeah or nay to release. He said the latter, and added another 70 years for good measure. 
Should you still be around in 2063 there is a chance you might find out what the butler and various others saw 100 years previously. If so, could you let me know? Ouija board will do. 
I do hope it is worth the wait. The Thatcher-schools proposal file is typical of the papers usually made available to the public and press. Like cheap fireworks, they promise a lot but turn out to be damp squibs. 
Most of the time one wonders why the papers were ever kept secret at all. Why, for example, was it deemed necessary to the functioning and standing of the British state for the public not to know that in 1988 the Labour leader of HM Opposition, Neil Kinnock, wanted a more powerful car, a request that had to be approved by Mrs Thatcher?
Or that Downing Street wanted to get one over on the up and coming Tony Blair by leaping on the internet bandwagon first? 
Or that the Major administration did not fancy Rupert Murdoch much, and vice versa?
In most instances the papers are kept away from prying eyes only because they might cause embarrassment to those still living. Their contents amount to a relative hill of political beans. That said, they do provide a fascinating glimpse of the times, and can throw up the odd funny story.
Take the case of “The Great Spam Fritter Type Rebound”, at the heart of which was that well known radical, Dame Vera Lynn. 
Whitehall had been asked to come up with ideas on how to mark the 50th anniversary of D-Day in 1994. The greatest minds of a civil service generation decided nothing summed up heroism and sacrifice quite like a spam fritter cooking competition.
Veterans were appalled, as was Dame Vera, who made it known she would not attend any commemorative events if the programmers did not come up with something more respectful. 
They did, and the lesson was learned for the following year’s VE and VJ celebrations, with one civil servant warning of the danger of “a spam fritter type rebound (eg Vera Lynn causing trouble)” if events did not strike the right tone. Just imagine, Whitehall shaking under the wrath of Dame Vera. Quite right, too.
Never underestimate the power of the right voice being heard at the right time, and the importance of hearing about it.

CLOWNING AROUND

WITH Brexit now heading towards us like a runaway train, it is probably too late to impose a limit on the use of the B word in 2019.
I fear it has to be done, however, if only to contain the madness afoot. This came to an apogee over Christmas when someone said the chaos at Gatwick was symptomatic of a country that had lost its spine and needed to, wait for it, take back control. The Russians would have shot the drones out of the sky in seconds, apparently.
Now Brexit has upset clowns. David Konyot, ex-chairman of the Association of Independent Showmen, is sick of Brexit being linked to the noble art of wearing a big red nose and giant shoes. Exception was taken in particular to use of the phrase “Brexit clowns” to describe politicians.
“A circus relies on 100% teamwork,” he said. “It relies on everyone knowing their job and doing it. If circuses and clowns had organised Brexit it would have been done two years ago.”
Is it too late to send in the clowns?

SCOTRAIL IN SHOCK GOOD NEWS STORY

ONE from our believe it or not files: someone has had a good experience involving ScotRail.
It is true. If you go down to the woods today you will find all the talk is of Frankfurter the teddy bear. 
The story begins two days before Christmas, when Miss Eva Mackay, aged five, left home in Glasgow with her mother and Frankfurter to visit the nation’s capital. A grand time was had by all until the return train reached its last stop, Queen Street, and Eva noticed someone missing. Frankfurter.
Mum and daughter raced through ten carriages, to no avail. Since no boy or girl can bear to be separated from their favourite toy, Ms Mackay Snr swung into action, posting an appeal for help on Twitter. 
Meanwhile, Emily Russell, aged 8, had found the little fella at Waverley and her mum also took to Twitter. ScotRail, on hearing the story, swung into action.
I am thrilled to report Frankfurter duly left Waverley at 6pm on December 23, Glasgow-bound. He is due to arrive at Queen Street sometime in February.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

ALL ready for the big night on Monday? Or are you, too, in that growing band of Scots for whom New Year is old hat?
Long gone are the days when Christmas amounted to little in Scotland and all the energy went into celebrating New Year. First footing, lump of coal, slice of black bun, nip of whisky. Get Hogmanay right and the rest of the year would surely follow, that was the plan.
Hogmanay was the perfect Scots celebration, involving as it did long walks in terrible weather because there were no buses or taxis to be had; parties and singing, followed by fights, tears, and recriminations; and eating and drinking to excess.
I use the past tense because I don’t “do” New Year any more. Come the bells, indeed, I will have been in bed asleep for two hours. Sacrilege, I know. Ought to be against the law. Probably is. But there we are. Too many rotten Hogmanays will do that to a person.
Whatever you are doing, have a wonderful, happy, safe time. As Vera Lynn almost said, we’ll meet again the other side of 2018.