Not a bad way to start the political week, picking up the Threadneedle/Spectator Award for parliamentary survivor of the year. I don’t win many awards, of any variety. The last one I recall was six years ago when I was transport secretary. Some motoring magazine named me ‘Most Boring Politician in Britain’. (Two years in a row.) There was no prize, unlike at the Spectator awards where at least I picked up a rather beautiful etched black fruit bowl to console me. It is sure to remind me in my dotage of the turbulent and trying, but always rewarding, times at the Treasury.
My wife pretends to be impressed. i am still in her good books for remembering our 23rd wedding anniversary — she phoned my diary secretary to thank her for remembering to remind me. As a rare treat, we go for a celebration curry, just the two of us. Over the last year, curries have mostly involved the entire treasury team in overnight crisis mode, and we have had one or two memorable nights punctuated by a mass order of tandoori chicken delivered to the office, and I sometimes wonder if it would be possible to draw a correlation between economic convulsions and the order book of the Treasury’s favourite curry house. And who, apart from bankers, will ever want to forget the ‘balti bail-out’ of last October?
The next day brings what in London is classified as ‘driving rain’ — but would count as a passing shower in the isle of Lewis. I just wish I could get back up there, to take the boat out of the water before the storms get too bad. When the tempest passes, the trees in the garden of 11 Downing Street are left bereft of leaves. Our poor garden at home in Edinburgh normally acquires a bedraggled look in weeks leading up to Budgets and Pre-Budget Reports. Note to the gardener (myself, in case you wondered): remember to get the rake out. I settle down to my bread and butter job, dealing with constituency problems for the people who elected me to represent Edinburgh South West. It is an excellent reality check. No minister should ever forget that their first job is as a Member of Parliament. I entered parliament 22 years ago, and I can still remember the thrill. The same thrill, of course, that Willie Bain will have felt when he was elected as Labour MP for Glasgow North East this week.
It’s been a challenging two years in my second job, as Chancellor. Who knew it would involve buying four banks? Back at Downing Street, I pile on another woolly to venture into the kitchen to make coffee: the heating hasn’t yet been turned on in the flat. The good news is that Downing Street is to acquire a new, very green boiler. The bad news is that they found asbestos during the work. It’s hard to complain, and miserable weather is actually conducive to meetings. If you can’t get out, you may as well go and see your colleagues.
After the G20 weekend in st andrews engaging with finance ministers and central bankers, the Treasury is now working on the Pre-Budget Report, due next month. There are, of course, inevitable tensions. Each secretary of state champions their departmental needs, and of course makes their case with passion and conviction. That I feel their pain is little consolation. The Pre-Budget Report has grown in importance over the years, and what was originally a fiscal ‘update’ has now, in many ways, become a central part of the economic policy calendar. Last year’s Pre-Budget Report came weeks after the collapse of Lehman Brothers and the sharp economic contraction across the world. This, of course, meant that it was more important than the Budget which followed three months later. Preparing the report involves long hours of meetings with Treasury officials and Cabinet colleagues. The Treasury has a reputation for being institutionally curmudgeonly. This is unfair. Contrary to received opinion, it welcomes anyone with good ideas. There’s excellent camaraderie and officials do a great job, even if sometimes I am presented with the sort of policies that Sir Humphrey Appleby would describe as ‘courageous’.
To another function: guest of honour at the National Business Awards. As I look around that room, buzzing with the energy of its 1,200 guests, it is hard to believe we are all still in the middle of an economic downturn. The organiser tells me this is one of the biggest such events in Europe. And the people at the event do, by definition, tend to be doing particularly well. They are confident as well as enthusiastic. But what surprises me is how wide and diverse the nominations are. Top prize, Business Leader of the Year, goes to Peter Marks, the CEO of the Co-operative Group — a rather refreshing choice. Before dinner, I get talking to the chief executive of Orange, Tom Alexander, who is very proud to have launched their iPhone that very day. Playing with his iPhone (I am seriously considering getting one when my fountain pen gives up on me), I am struck by how much communication has changed. It was brought into sharp focus for me on the day after this year’s Budget. A text message arrived from my daughter, on her gap year somewhere on the other side of the globe, far, far away from any major city. And far, I had thought, from being in a position to comment on the Budget. She simply asked: ‘Hey dad… is it true you’ve wrecked the economy?’
‘No,’ I texted back. Just so you know I can.
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