《No, Minister.(存一下英文版)》用其他笔名

20、[Interlude] S01E01.5 Cyril's Diary

　　Cyril's Diary
　　Friday, 25th January, 1980 | Pimlico, London | Overcast, occasional light rain
　　The last day of the week.
　　I've returned to a normal routine, at least avoiding the frantic rush of yesterday.
　　Over breakfast, I skimmed The Times. The front page was still the tug-of-war between the unions and the government. A small paragraph on page seven mentioned the IDISM meeting, with cautious wording: "Newly established Department of Synergy Coordination holds first inter-departmental meeting, aims to optimise government information flow." It reminded me of the evening before last, deliberating over the wording of the report with the Minister. Those bureaucratic phrases, 'fruitful', 'constructive consensus', were now in print, part of the public record.
　　The Minister had an external meeting this morning and wouldn't be back in the office until after lunch. As it concerned party matters, it was handled by the Minister's Parliamentary Private Secretary (Parl. PS). So I spent the morning in the office dealing with the aftermath of the DLO invitation letters.
　　The responses from the departments came in faster than I expected. Around nine, the phone started ringing.
　　"Department of Synergy Coordination, Minister's Private Office, Cyril Astley speaking." The first call was from the Treasury.
　　"Good morning, Mr Astley. This is the Permanent Secretary's office at the Treasury." The familiar, standard Oxford accent, the wording cautious. "Regarding the invitation you sent this morning, our Permanent Secretary would like to confirm, is the nature of this DLO mechanism, as stated in the letter, entirely non-binding?" I replied that it was.
　　"Good. The deadline for reply mentioned in the letter is 7th February, but considering the need for internal consultation to determine a suitable candidate, the Treasury would hope for an extension to 14th February. Is this request within an acceptable range?"
　　An expected request. I immediately expressed my understanding. "Of course, we fully understand that departments need adequate time for internal consultation. The 14th of February is perfectly acceptable. I will send you a confirmation letter today."
　　"Thank you for your understanding." The voice on the other end was noticeably more relaxed. "It seems the DSC is a… reasonable department."
　　As soon as I hung up, the phone rang again. The Ministry of Defence, asking for a specific definition of 'secure channels' and whether the DLO would require security clearance. I patiently explained that the mechanism did not involve classified information, so security clearance was not essential, but if the MoD deemed it necessary, we would fully respect their judgment.
　　Next was the Department of Industry, asking if two officials could jointly serve as DLO. I said we had no objection to whatever their department arranged internally.
　　The call from the Welsh Office was taken by Joshua. He covered the receiver and turned to me. "They're asking if they can submit information in Welsh."
　　I took a deep breath. "Tell them of course they can, but the DSC may need time to arrange for translation."
　　"I think they were just testing to see if we'd refuse outright," Joshua said, hanging up the phone and rubbing his forehead.
　　"Perhaps," I shrugged. "But now they know we won't."
　　Each department was testing our limits and flexibility in its own way. It was expected, although the angle of some questions… was indeed rather peculiar.
　　What surprised me was the reaction from the Department of Energy. They sent a formal reply directly, clearly providing the name and contact details of their liaison officer—a Principal Officer named Anderson, with his direct line and office address. Concise, efficient, with no additional conditions or questions.
　　In stark contrast was the Home Office, which sent a twenty-one-page 'List of Information Sharing Restriction Clauses'. I flipped through it randomly, saw the dense clause numbers, legal citations, and additional notes, and didn't know whether to laugh or sigh. For now, just file it.
　　In the afternoon, Sir summoned me to his office. He handed me an internal bulletin from the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food (MAFF), and an invitation letter from a local tourist board.
　　"Cyril," he got straight to the point, "MAFF and the Department of the Environment have a long-standing disagreement over cod quotas and coastal discharge standards. In recent years, the allocation of quotas under the Common Fisheries Policy (CFP), and the pressure on the North Sea and North Atlantic fishing grounds, have exacerbated the anxiety of the fishermen. MAFF wants the Minister to go to a fishing port in Cornwall next week to attend a seminar they've organised on responding to the fishing crisis, to soothe local sentiment and listen to the fishermen's demands. At the same time, the local tourist board has also sent an invitation, hoping the Minister will open their local seafood festival, to attract tourists and boost the local economy."
　　I looked at the date. The same day.
　　Then I looked at the location. The same port.
　　"Sir…" I swallowed. "This… this is a political trap."
　　On one side, fishermen whose livelihoods are threatened, who are emotional and need the government to show support for restricting fishing quotas and protecting the local industry. On the other, local businesses and the tourism industry, who want to attract consumer spending and need an image of prosperity.
　　Two completely contradictory narratives, scheduled in the same place, on the same day, to be endorsed by the same Minister.
　　"An opportunity, Cyril," Sir corrected, his tone calm. "An opportunity to test the Minister's ability to handle multi-party conflicts under real-world pressure. Go and compile the relevant background materials. Prepare a brief, listing all potential stakeholders and their core demands. Objective, detailed. Present it to the Minister on Monday, along with the invitations."
　　I nodded and left.
　　Holding the bulletin, I felt as if I had been sent to personally set a trap for the Minister. I just didn't know who the trap would ultimately ensnare.