The Cafe
Recent correspondence

How I became a spy
Miller Caldwell

The holiday which finds me today in the files of MI5 was our holiday on Jura in the summer of 1967 during the height of the Cold War. While the dearth of activity on Jura was ideal for George Orwell to write his novel 1984, there was a lack of interest after walking the Papps, viewing the Corryvrechan whirlpool and visiting the distillery – the island's only employer. Shortwave radio seemed the best option.
     I found a warm grassy hillock overlooking the Craighouse pier. I fiddled around with the Home Service but found nothing to keep my interest. I tuned to shortwave and searched for a signal. I got a good clear link from a man with a heavy eastern European accent. The radio station identified itself as Radio Moscow. An agricultural programme identifying crops and climates was being broadcast. It referred to Ayrshire potatoes from southern England. I had to react. Conveniently several times during the programme the station was announced giving the postal address in Moscow. I sat down to write my reply. I posted it on Jura and thought nothing more of my letter.
     On our return to Glasgow, there was interesting mail for me. Much of my mail came from Russia. There were postcards of the Great Mother Country and of course Red Square by day and by night, a list of pen friends to contact, radio broadcasting times for Radio Moscow, and questionnaires. I chose not to reply but for the best part of a decade, long after I had left home, there was regular mail from Red Square Moscow to Shawlands old parish manse. To all intents and purposes in these cold war years, MI5 had a dormant spy in the manse. And until I left Glasgow in 1969, mail from Red Square continued to arrive. The Shawlands manse was eventually sold to...a police inspector. I hope he enjoyed the correspondence or, at least, the postcards.

Human rights – or just self-interest?
Sandy Gunn

Our local authority issued a circular: 'Bins should be put out by 7.30am on a Sunday morning'. It stated that it would save taking on extra crews to have 'a new shift pattern which includes weekend working as part of their normal working week' and that for those who had a long lie on Sunday morning, 'bins should be put out on Saturday night'. When it was pointed out that on Saturday nights there was a likelihood of bins being knocked over and debris spread on the pavements, the reply was that they had 'practices whereby a mechanical street sweeper can be deployed to clear up any mess'.
     While one does not envy the decisions conscientious local authorities have to take, and in this instance the secretary concerned was particularly efficient and courteous in her explanation, it raises questions about values and coordination between local and national government. For example, at a time of unemployment should government (whichever arm is operational – local or national) try to reduce numbers and then pay jobseekers' allowance, rather than provide meaningful employment which gives dignity to people? At a time when one arm of government speaks about encouraging family life, should another arm of government be actively eroding the day when parents and children can be together, even if they do not wish to worship in a Christian church?
     Compton MacKenzie's 'Whisky Galore' caricatures the Western Isles Sabbath, but it is interesting that Calmac claims to have been forced to sail to Lewis on Sundays by 'human rights'. Is there not a danger that Brussels may be sprouting some rubbish? The welcome implications of genuine human rights are far-reaching, challenging exploitation and unfairness in this country, although on the international scene all too often ignored because of vested political or financial considerations. Is there not now a tendency for my 'human rights' to be the god-like politically-correct cover for selfishness? For it is no longer politically correct to wish that Sunday be a day to be de-stressed, or to challenge public bodies with the ultimate basis for human rights, that each person is valuable to God. In this post-Christian era the overall ethos vacuum is all too often filled by well disguised self-interest, ultimately producing a load of rubbish in glossy, expensive policy documents.