IT WAS CHRISTMAS morning. Crisp, frosty -and a little hung- over - assistant editor 'Mad" Harry Sloan was clocking on for the day shift at Socialist Outlook.
In the distance he heard bells and excited i shreks of discovery - as the local community upheld the Christmas tradition of nicking Having scouted the horizon for bailits, he entrance. Sloan put his key in the lock. The door creaked open: he realised he hadht Reaching for the light switch, Sloan heard a dick but saw nothing. Bulb gone again? Ot no money in the meter?
He moved inside, allowing the door to close behind him. In the halt-light he stumbled over a large bundle in the passageway. He heard a It was the sleeping form of Bill Peters, the tireless sales organiser, obviousty too exhausted even to open the door and go home the day before. So fanatical was his devotion that he had wrapped himsoll in oid copies of the Financial Times supc plement rather than spoil any back issues o Sloan made his way up the narrow creaking staircase, then realised it was him that was earty grave, he thought, his debonair good looks raddled by endless hours painstakingly pasüng up the paper His stooping shoulders rusted against walls lined with pinned-up invoices from a host of suppliers past and present.
One invo ce - for oflioe equiement - had become such a favourite with the staff that they business manager Tidu lamed a ino yedis ballei ds d preselil lur Geoll Tomorrow Lowe.
Unpaid but frequently admired (like me, thought Sloan) it hung in pride of place in Lowe's office on the top floor, valued for its views of the local winos loling by a wal near Dec 92- Jan 93 Sloan reached the frst landing, now almost completely in the dark, fumbled for the correct production area. He coughed as the heavy smoke of the prevous day's duty-free Gauloises consumption floated out to grab him by the throat.
He climbed over the abandoned hulk of the previous lasor printer - kept 'just in case' - and unlocked the door to the layout room. His foot were already beginning to stick to the carpet: unused aerosol glue had formed a permanently tacky layer underfoot.
No more Spraymount now, he thought, remembering the crisis finance meeting the day before. It had been a grim altair. More economies had to be made, Sicen had been told.
*Spraymount doesn't grow on trees, you know. The Fund-raising committee has decided we have to înd a cheaper glue," "Tomortow Lowe had said One of our teacher comrades said her kids bag of flour for less than a quid. So here is our glue for the next three issues," Lowe ha d, handing over a bag of Spiller Homepride While Sloan had spluttered, lost for words, the next authatk was announond:
We're using too many sheets of peper, Harry. From now on we want you to use both sides of the paper you put through the laser printer. Paper doesn't grow on trees, you know Sloan had tured in disbeiet and gone for an early lunch: but this had been spoied by other members of the paper stafl - who hadn't No. 34 to sip at the cup of coffee ij in a grumpy mood. dynamo. paste - and you can get a big dialled Tomorrow/'s' office.
"Are VOU SUTe WE symbol. the bugger's name." cally at the window of the burger bar, watching him and licking their lips hungriy as he wont to In the end five of them shared his burger bondy sausage chips and beans, taking furns t was getting ridiculous. Earlier in the weel he had dropped in during the alternoon, to ind editor "Filit Limmo (soe a column inch, and fill The man whose relentless slave-driving put the 'dead" into deadlines was watching a computer screen ficker and surge as office junior Lay Tarrance peddied errabically on a bicydle Why can't you keep a regular thythmn going? Frankhrough a Gaulose as the red ootd naly priusto tor Tol lourth cigarette since coffee. But fve been pedaling for over an hour. Surely it must be somebody else's turn soon, she winged between drags as she forced her leet round on the converted bi ke Ignoring her, Limmo had picked up the cracked can't afford to buy even one photograph lor this bloody issue? he asked. "Here we are producing a rail industry special and all we ve got to illustrate the bloody thing is a 5-year old picture of Jimmy Knapp, a tube ticket and a creased graphic of the BR *...No, we can'tuse a picture of the Tory true. Transport Secretary - no reader would recognise him and anyway our reference books are all from 1988, and nobody hore can remember Limmo made no headway. There wouid be no naw photos, and the emberrassing weekly Snue each wook outside the Cutfookoffice.
As a miserable Sioan reached for a spoon to mix up the four and water pasto, the phone rar folo comrade, season's pretings and al that jazz. Just ringing to wish you woll," said a elaxed, well-fed and slightly inebriated voice. In the background Sioan could hear music, laughler, and the popping of champagne corks. He could imagine the plateluls of food and generous ireshly-openod presents surWho are you? he asked.
*Tim the spirit of complacent readers present," said the voice • wiere eil coscrasne he fact that we can ind extra cash for everything eise at Christmas, but not a brass farthing for you daft buggers working on the paper. I thought l'd ring up and patronise you with faint praise...
"But it's all a mess - you're going to get that bioody picture of Jimmy Knapp on every page if you dont send us some cash," gasped Harry in frustrated anguish. "Surely a few quid wouldn't hurt you? Have a whip round. Send us some money!...
"Now, now, don't get hysterical. We think the paper's great, don't we? Some of us even Th: sorry, lunch is starting, must There was a cick, and the dialing tone.
It was too bad to be true.
It wasnt true.
Slaan suddenly woke up; he had dozed off agan, editing an article on Labour Party Sociaists. He looked at his watch. December 14. How much of the dream had been real?
Only you can decide how much comes If you support us, send a Christmas donation. Now. How about 9202 Give us the resources, and we'll give you a better Socialist Outiook.
And that's an investment for Christmases yet to come!
BE HONEST now. Did you even notice the TUC's 'national day of recovery on December 9? Thought not.
As you will no doubt not be December 9 - a date selected to tie in with the Edincentrepiece of the TUC's socaned campaign for joos and Recovery, launched after the Trade unionists were asked to meet their bosses and put the case for investment and job task, and most of the 100,000 ment will presumably pulped There was no industrial action anywhere, although there were least Oxford and Swansea. By contrast, a service for recovery at Southwark cathedral attracted 350.
Clash of Titans
Norman Willis met John Such was the TUC general secreaty saeconaans prowess that on December 10 for union ballots.
The absolute high-spot of December 9 was NUM leader Arthur Scargill's repetition of carlier calls for the TUC to organise a national day of action, with millions of people out on the streets", if the Tories do not back down on pit closures.
Scargill made his demand at a conference held in the TUC's Congress House headquarters, repe the 1ucs special general remarks made outThis time he got implicit backing from TGWU transport workers chief Bill Morris, presumably under the influence of rank-and-file pressure, who noted the need for "far more active and wide-ranging measures than the underpowered ones that have already The idea of a day of action must be pusned by acavists in all unions branches and trades for strike action on the day wherever possibie