Gids in a stinky mood. He’s still traumatised after having to travel economy class to Korea. Rang from the airport to say, ‘I don’t turn right on planes.’ But Poppy said you could tell from his voice that he knew the game was up. We all turn right on planes now. It’s a bit depressing, to be honest. Only a month since we got in and everyone’s exhausted. Also realised today, it’s four years since I started work at Compassionate Conservative Headquarters. Can you believe it? Could never have predicted it would turn out like this. I mean, it’s v nice being In Power. But after all the years we battled Mr Redwood and his crazy talk about cuts it is weird that it’s come down to precisely that in the end. When I think of the glory days — the Tie Guidelines, the smoothies, the secret sessions with union bosses, the summer photos of Dave in Vilebrequins, the hoodies, the love-bombing, the green taxes — mind you, we might still get them, if Mr Huhne has anything to do with the Budget.
Mr Cable on the phone threatening to resign again. Honestly, it’s just getting boring. I told him if he wants to make himself a CGT martyr he’s v welcome. But could he please just get on with it and stop bothering me because I’m busy sorting out our public consultation on spending cuts — It’s Your Recession You Decide! (Ugh, just had to drink a cup of Nescafe. When we moved into No. 10, they didn’t bring the cappuccino machine.) Went for a cheer-up lunch with Poppy. Lovely time reminiscing about the Great Pasta Shortage of April 2008 when Dave nearly had to cancel a lasagne supper, and the time I tried to get married for tax policy purposes and the dating agency fixed me up with Ed Miliband. Great days. I’m pretty sure I’ve been central to The Project, like when they put me in charge of Webcameron vids and I got a builder to put a partition wall up to make the kitchen look smaller. A triumph of mine, Jed said.
It was worth it. It was. The rebranding, the trips to Sudan, Rwanda and even Glasgow in Lord A’s private jet. The policies scrawled on pony club notelets, the fold-up bikes sponsored by Google, the U-turns on U-turns. The time the entire shad cab revealed they had done drugs so I smoked a bit of cannabis to Be The Change and ended up trying to unscrew the top of Mr Redwood’s head. (No one was more surprised than him when it actually did come off!) Or the time I got stranded at the Ny-Alesund arctic research station near That Glacier with only a huskie for company after Dave accidentally left me to go to a five-star hotel in Oslo for the night. How we laughed about that later! Well, he did. I was still recovering from frostbite.
Now we’re here and we can’t even overturn the hunting ban. Daddy driving me mad about it but I can’t tell him the truth. ‘Next week Papa, we’re going to announce it, just you wait and see.’
Found a mouldy chocolate orange, signed by Dave, in the bottom of a box of stuff I brought over from CCHQ and suddenly felt so sad. GWB, remember that? Now Dave’s giving interviews about Pain. Ah well, onwards and upwards. As Mrs Spelperson would say, I’m sure it will all turn out right in the end.