Fraser Nelson Fraser Nelson

Diary – 12 September 2009

Fraser Nelson opens his diary

I’ve never worked out how so many Swedes can be atheists when the Stockholm archipelago is prima facie proof of God’s existence. For years I have been coming to worship and this summer I rented a house by the water. It is my idea of paradise: a week of forest walks, saunas and — last Saturday — dinner for 20 to celebrate my wife Linda’s birthday. As we shop for it on the Friday, in a supermarket with separate sections for herring and cuts of reindeer, my mobile phone starts to erupt. Back in London, I have just been named the next editor of The Spectator and am sent texts and emails by everyone I have ever met. I make a mental note to save all the messages — especially the flattering ones — on paper. Some day, when I need cheering up, I might read them again. I may even be foolish enough to believe some of them.

I’ll say this for David Cameron: he is quick on the draw. Within the first few minutes I received a text asking me to promise that Tamzin Lightwater is safe. A few hours later, a holidaying George Osborne texts his congratulations and says he intends to remove two high-ranking Scots from public office in the next nine months. I reply that he should not be so hard on Liam Fox and Michael Gove: he will need all the hawks he can find in government. Yet nothing at all from 10 Downing Street. Not all Scots, you see, stick together.

I was once introduced to Baroness Thatcher as a ‘Scottish Conservative’. She looked at me with surprise as if this were the political equivalent of a barking cat. ‘Why are so many of you down here?’ she asked.

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