Baby Ace: Tony Benn was one of the most irresistibly readable diarists of our age

ON HIS ADORED WIFE, CAROLINE

Wednesday, July 24, 1991: Caroline was out in her car when a van bumped into her and broke off her bumper. A young man got out and fixed it on again. Caroline thanked him and he said: ‘You’re an American, aren’t you?’ And she said: ‘Yes.’

And he said: ‘I’d like a mother with stockings and a suspender belt. Will you give me a date?’

And she said: ‘No, I won’t. I’ve got somebody.’

He said: ‘Is he young and virile?’

And Caroline said: ‘He’s old, and he’ll do.’

Tony Benn is pictured here with his wife, Caroline, in 1984. After her death, he wrote:

Tony Benn is pictured here with his wife, Caroline, in 1984. After her death, he wrote: ‘When I look back on Caroline’s life, she was the finest person I ever met. She radiated goodness’

Sunday, October 13, 1991: Caroline’s 65th birthday. She looks about 35. She’s more active than she’s ever been. I gave her a bed-warmer you put in the microwave to heat up.

Wednesday, August 2, 1994: Went to a little Greek taverna round the corner, had a lovely meal sitting out and it was just such fun. It is 46 years since Caroline and I met.

She was wearing the same dress she wore then. She can get into it quite easily — and she’s touching 70. Unbelievable.

Saturday, October 7, 1995: Caroline has been referred to hospital for a biopsy. She is not at all well and it suddenly hit me what terrible danger she was in.

I burst into tears and sobbed. I have got to devote myself single-mindedly to helping her. I must repay her with all the love and attention she has given to me over these 47 years.

Tuesday, July 16, 1996: We went to the hospital for the result of the [latest] tests. To put it plainly, it was a very big lump in the breast, and they discovered cancer in 18 of the 25 lymph nodes in the arm.

It is very serious. The professor said to Caroline: ‘I think there’s a better than 50 per cent chance that you’ll be here in five years’ time.’

I have clearly got to restructure my whole life to be of service to her, and cut out anything that I don’t have to do.

I think of all the times I could have spent with her and done things together with her, and now it’s too late to go over all that. I haven’t been a very good husband in those terms. I’ve put politics first.

She’s had a full and happy and satisfying life as a writer and teacher and grandmother and friend, but I haven’t really played the full role in enriching her life by my friendship as I should have done.

Thursday, August 1, 1996: At the hospital there was only one other woman in the waiting room for radiotherapy and she and Caroline fell to talking. She began crying and Caroline began crying and I began crying, and then people were beginning to fill the waiting room, and we were all crying.

Caroline was called away and I said to the woman: ‘Tomorrow is the 48th anniversary of our meeting.’

And then I began sobbing, and she gave me a tissue to cry into, and I put it in an envelope and kept it because it was such a loving thing to do.

Friday, April 2, 1999: Caroline and I have agreed a gravestone for both of us, in black marble at an angle by the pond at Stansgate [the Benn family home in Essex]. Our ashes will be put under the gravestone.

So, having collected a thousand or more boxes with all our writings and papers, there will be one last box where we go ourselves.

Saturday, July 8, 2000: Durham Miners’ Gala. I watched all the banners go by and I wept and wept. If Caroline goes, I shall be left to spend the rest of my life alone, and I shall miss her so much.

So I wept for her, and I wept for the miners, and I wept for myself, and I wept for the problems in society.

Thursday, November 9, 2000: Talked to the children to make it clear that I thought we were on the last lap . . . I put Caroline to bed, very carefully, and do all the necessary things, but she is in acute pain.

This photograph shows Mr Benn canvassing with Caroline in 1950. In his diaries, he wrote of her:

This photograph shows Mr Benn canvassing with Caroline in 1950. In his diaries, he wrote of her: ‘She had a most formidable intellect, a tremendously powerful character’

Wednesday, November 15, 2000: I was thinking the other day that, for us, it is like a honeymoon again.

We’re together, with no interruptions, and I’m at home all the time, and that’s lovely.

There’s a sweetness about it because it brings out such lovely qualities in people. I’ve cancelled everything.

Thursday, November 23, 2000: Just over five hours ago, my beloved Caroline died in Charing Cross Hospital.

Gradually, over the past four days, life just ebbed away from her. She found it very difficult to speak, although she recognised people.

Right up to the day before she died, if you said something to her, she squeezed your hand.

Last night we were all gathered there round the bed, all four children and myself.

At about a quarter to ten, I leaned over and said: ‘Darling, we’re all here. You can let go now, if you want to. If you want to go, you can let go.’

I gave her a kiss on her brow, and it was very, very cold, and at six minutes past ten she gave her last breath.

We were all in tears. We kissed her, one by one.

When I look back on Caroline’s life, she was the finest person I ever met. She radiated goodness.

She had a capacity for love and interest in other people that was unparalleled. She had a most formidable intellect, a tremendously powerful character.

Monday, December 4, 2000: I feel defenceless. It is an indication of how much I depended on her: the intellectual rigour of her comments on my speeches; how she bought all my clothes, cut my hair, looked beautiful herself and always checked me over to see if I looked respectable when I went out and didn’t have burn holes in my sweater.

Thursday, April 25, 2002: In the afternoon I had a bit of a rest, and I was terribly depressed. I thought of Caroline.

Where is she? Her body, which I loved and knew so well, was taken away and burned, and she’s not there, and all the things I should have done for her, all the time I should have given to her, I didn’t give.

I think she was happy, but I’ll never ever see her again till the day I die, and after that, who knows?

Pictured here in his later years, Mr Benn died this week at the age of 88

WHY I REFUSED TO BE NASTY ABOUT MAGGIE

Thursday, June 5, 1997: Went to the Speaker’s party. Thatcher was there, and I leaned over and began: ‘Well, Maggie . . .’ I suppose I shouldn’t have called her Maggie, but I did.

We talked about Europe and she said: ‘The Germans have caused all the trouble in Europe. And the French. It’s always the Continent that’s caused trouble. We’ve got to be British.’

I said: ‘It’s a bit difficult for me because my mother was a Scot, my wife’s American, one of my sons has married a woman who is half-Indian and another son lives with a Muslim.

We’re breeding a UN peacekeeping force.’
I’m glad I spoke to her, but I thought she was slightly bonkers actually. She was just boiling with ideological frenzy. I said to her: ‘You know this problem of Europe is not a new one. Julius Caesar arrived with the single currency in 55BC, and the first Iron Lady, Boadicea, raised the men of Essex and killed 7,000 Roman soldiers.’

She said: ‘I was the first Iron Lady, not her.’

Friday, March 22, 2002: Mrs Thatcher, who’s had one stroke already, has been told she may never speak again.

I was asked to comment on Newsnight and Channel 4 News, and I refused because I didn’t feel this was the moment to say anything nasty, as she would be lying in bed at home watching the telly and I just thought that was unkind.

Monday, April 7, 2003: The Tory candidate for Eastleigh at the last election came up to me tonight.

He said he’d been to a party, last November I think, at which Lady Thatcher was present with Norman Tebbit, and he’d gone up to her and asked her what she regarded as her greatest achievement, and she replied: ‘New Labour.’
That says it all really.

ON TONY BLAIR

Friday, June 3, 1994: Telephoned by a woman who told me that, during the last election, her job was to drive Blair. She was with him throughout most of the campaign.

She said that whenever he got bad press, he became very upset and would phone Gordon Brown, who would say: ‘Don’t worry, Tony, it will be all right tomorrow.’

She got the impression that Blair was a weak man and wouldn’t stand up to criticism. I found this a real insight into his character.

Tuesday, October 1, 1996: Labour Party conference, Blackpool. The centre is full of videos running pictures of Blair, Blair, Blair, Blair. To have people come all the way to conference just to watch a video is an outrage.

His speech began with a video and then the lights went out and the spotlight went on some white doors and in he came smiling and smiling. A cold hand went round my chest . . . At the end, a Union Jack was flashed onto the screen. It was the National Front, it was everything that I feared, and it made me absolutely sick.

Tuesday, October 8, 1996: This morning, I got my Labour Party ballot paper to vote on the manifesto.
There was a number on every ballot paper, so the computer would be able to tell how you had voted.
By God, it is a police state in the Labour Party.

Wednesday, September 8, 1999: Meeting with the Garvaghy Road Residents’ Association from Northern Ireland. There have been 200 attempts by the Orange Order to march along the Catholic Garvaghy Road since the march was banned in 1998.

They told me a quite extraordinary story. Jonathan Powell, the Prime Minister’s chief of staff, had been over to see them with the idea that Tony Blair himself would lead the Orange Order march down the Garvaghy Road and Cherie Blair would lead a parallel march of Catholics.

I said: ‘I can’t believe that suggestion was seriously put forward.’

They said: ‘Oh yes, indeed, and it’s in writing.’ It gave an insight into the idea that Blair has only got to descend from the clouds and all historical problems will disappear.

It was just incredible — and a gimmick of the first order.

Monday, February 21, 2000: I said to [MP] Brian Sedgemore: ‘Tony Blair is becoming a Mussolini.’
He said: ‘No, he’s not. He can’t make the trains run on time.’

Tuesday, September 27, 2005: Labour Party Conference, Brighton. I watched Tony Blair’s speech. It confirmed my view that he has made the Labour Party, the Labour movement, irrelevant.

He’s used it as the first stage of the rocket to get him into space, and has been circuiting the Earth for eight years, since 1997, and our role is just to look up and admire the satellite.

ON HIS ECCENTRICITIES

Friday, July 2, 1996: Caught the train to Chesterfield and slept all the way.

I have two balloon cushions: one fits up my back and the other stops my head from wobbling. I’ve got an airline eye mask and two little foam rubber armrests (because the armrests on first-class trains are very hard), with an ashtray in each one.

I put a newspaper under my feet (I have airline socks as well), I leave my ticket on the table and I’m usually sound asleep for an hour.

Sometimes I set the alarm clock so I don’t go on to Sheffield, which has happened.

Sunday, October 20, 2002: I had a lovely letter from Professor Sir Christopher Frayling, the Rector of the Royal College of Art, who wrote to thank me for coming to an exhibition last week.

I had put to him my idea for a suitcase that you could transform into a seat, and he wrote to say what a terrific idea it was. So, I’ll ring up, go over in a taxi and show him the various designs.

It’s got to meet four requirements: it’s got to be small enough to be accepted on board an aeroplane; it’s got to have wheels; it’s got to be a backpack; and it’s got to have a seat.

Thursday, October 24, 2002: I decided to draw up a specification for the seatcase. I decided to call it the chaircase, like a staircase. Or it could be called a sitcase.

But I laid the specifications down and then I took a lot of photographs of bits of luggage I’ve been adapting to see how it works.

I think I could make quite a nice little presentation.

ON FLIRTING

Wednesday, May 28, 2003: A BBC crew arrived for the programme Heaven And Earth.

Natasha Kaplinsky, who presents the BBC Breakfast programme, did the interview — she is very professional and exceptionally beautiful. We sat in the garden; it took about a couple of hours.

Friday, May 30, 2003: There was a knock at the door and there was Natasha Kaplinsky, who’d come round with a box of chocolates, which was really sweet of her.

Wednesday, June 25, 2003: To the House of Commons. At 12.30, Natasha Kaplinsky came over to lunch with me. She did actually work with Neil Kinnock for a year, 1991 to 1992, before she went to Oxford. She went into radio and then Sky TV, which she said was sexist and awful.

Mr Benn on Natasha Kaplinsky:

Mr Benn on Natasha Kaplinsky: ‘Natasha arrived at about 4.45pm and we discussed her interview with me… She is beautiful and very friendly. I really enjoyed the evening, and it was a big success’

We went over to the Terrace Cafeteria to have a cup of tea. She had a peppermint tea. After that I drove her to Dickins Jones store.

Wednesday, October 8, 2003: I got the train to Plymouth to do one of my one-man shows. I spoke for 45 minutes, a bit long, and then answered questions, and I asked a member of the audience to come and sit next to me in case I didn’t hear the questions.

A blonde girl sat there and I said to her at the end: ‘You have the right to ask the last question.’ So she said ‘Should you kiss on your first date?’ So I leaned over and gave her a kiss and thanked her very much.

Saturday, June 5, 2004: I watched Strictly Come Dancing and Natasha won. She was doing a foxtrot, I think. She was terribly good, so I sent her a little message.

Saturday, June 19, 2004: Natasha came top again. Oh, she was so good. I voted (several times) in support of her. Then I rang and said how fabulous she was.

Thursday, July 15, 2004: Natasha rang and said she’d love to have lunch. I said: ‘I’ve kept a month open for you,’ and she said: ‘Only a month?’ which was very cheeky. Anyway, next Wednesday is settled.

Thursday, July 22, 2004: There was a completely fabricated picture of Natasha in her beautiful ballgown and me in evening dress in the Daily Telegraph gossip column, saying it was a platonic relationship.

So, I rang her up later in the day and said: ‘I hope it didn’t embarrass you in any way, but I have written a very angry letter to the editor of the Daily Telegraph, saying how outrageous that he should suggest that it was a platonic friendship!’ She laughed at that.

Monday, December 6, 2004: Natasha arrived at about 4.45pm and we discussed her interview with me tonight at the Purcell Room. She is beautiful and very friendly. I really enjoyed the evening, and it was a big success . . .

She said: ‘Let’s meet again and start a new scandal!’ So I said that would be lovely. I gave her the book The Art Of Belly Dancing, which I have been keeping for her.

ON LITTLE CALAMITIES

Wednesday, April 8, 1992: I put my finger in my pocket, pulled out what I thought was a sweet, popped it into my mouth and it was a mothball. So I spat it out and drank a glass of milk, which I remembered was the best thing.

Friday, June 12, 1992: Went to St Pancras, where I had agreed to meet a television crew before I caught the 8.30 to Nottingham. Left my bags on the train and went and did the interview. Then I heard over the loudspeaker: ‘Leave the station immediately. Everyone is to evacuate the station.’

Got to the platform and the security officers said there was an unidentified bag on the train. I said: ‘It’s mine.’

I opened it and showed them my Thermos and sandwiches. They were a bit cross.

Thursday, April 14, 1995: I was so tired that I left the bath running, and a whole tankful of water came down and poured into the living room. Caroline was so sweet about it. You would have thought she’d have blown her top.

Mr Benn is pictured here with his wife, Caroline, and his children (L-R) Hilary, seven, Joshua, two, Melissa, four, and Stephen, nine

Tuesday, November 15, 1995: Hadn’t paid my phone bill, so it has been cut off.

Thursday, September 7, 1996: Accidentally brushed my teeth with the cortisone cream for my ulcerated leg instead of toothpaste.

Sunday, June 28, 1998: I lost my pager today. I looked everywhere and couldn’t find it. I rang British Telecom and asked them to send me various messages, and I crept round like a sniffer dog on my hands and knees with my hearing aid on.

Finally, I heard a rather pathetic little noise from the bin, ripped open the bag it was coming from and there was my pager, all wet with teabags and ash from my pipe.

Wednesday, May 29, 2002: Visiting Chris Mullin [Labour MP] in Sunderland. He is passionately against smoking, so I smoked in his garden, and when I came into the house I put the pipe in my pocket.

Went to the loo, and when I came out the jacket was burning, fortunately not on to Chris’s carpet. He doused it with water.

ON MAKING MISCHIEF

Wednesday, November 3, 1993: Absolute chaos in the House. Points of Order and shouting. We delayed the vote and the Serjeant-at-Arms with his sword was sent in to tell us to go through the Division lobby or else he would take names.

I turned to the Members and said: ‘What he has done is absolutely contrary to the Speaker’s Ruling of 1622.’ When the Serjeant had left, I admitted I’d made it up.

Monday, November 22, 1999: Got a parking ticket on my car, so I blew it up to A4-size and stuck it on the Speaker’s ceremonial coach, which is parked in a corner of Westminster Hall.