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Glasnostic

By

Heron Mac

 

  Synopsis

 

Glasnost, for those of you who didn’t already know about it, is said to be in the Oxford English dictionary 1997 a Russian word meaning political underground journalism. Something unheard of here in the British Isles. So we let the story unfold naturally, by itself, unimpeded by the unfair anti-freedom politics we all know. There was a time, not so very long ago (though it is not really a long time again the grand scheme of things) after all that has happened since and because in a way what took place does belong to a bygone era when the world we lived in might have done or did in fact, a metaphorical somersault and landed on it’s over-inflated head. Let’s be clear here so don’t me wrong—it would pain me if you did, it wasn’t because of what happened, that wasn’t what changed and reversed and upended things, there was a lot of events which were more important at stake, on the line, that none of us dared to admit to then. Well, I, at the very least, think that nobody truly dared.

 

Glasnost

 

Perhaps they did in secret, privately but nobody was going to admit it, to let anyone else see that they did for some reason actually take their lives seriously enough to be brave-hearted. Obviously I do not place myself above the critics in this regard, certainly not Q

quite the reverse in fact.  I am not setting out to make myself look cool or clever at other people’s expense and to produce a particularly wise or insightful manuscript. I am just as to blame and just as flawed or defective as any of the others who went down the same path as me but perhaps it is only I who can write about the series of events now with a clear head. A head which has thought, reasoned and analysed for ten years or more. This is not to say that my opinions, whatever they may be recognised as being, are the other people’s point of view as well - far be it for me to speak on behalf of others. They wouldn’t be impressed at all. There were many people who were against what we did and everything we were trying to accomplish. They will always remember and always still feel the way they felt Even the ones who were supposed to be on my side saw the whole affair differently and - I am sure - till regard it all in a different light. This is unfortunate for me as it always seems as though certain unnamed other people are fortunate enough to have somehow better thoughts, more professionally formed ideas about matters like these. You mostly wish you hadn’t said something that you did say or you are left wondering for ages what they have that is so special that is left out of you, what is wrong with your brain and not theirs. Plus how much can be done about it.

 Anyway; I felt there was something that could be done about the whole saga: to lay it to rest. Those pranks and misdemeanours we carried out which we all now regret or have regretted to a certain degree, in them there is also something good In what happened which can only exist when we are young. This sounds like moralising, or perhaps even preaching or rattling on and I haven’t even given you more than a few faint hints at what happened and what caused us to do It. It concerned a very unimportant and trivial school  magazine which a posse of us over the course of a couple of months corrupted and  maltreated so that it would express some rather scurrilous and revolutionary ideas we had. However, I am saving the description and recounting of that for a time while I set the scene. I’ll fry to build up to that drama slowly but! might give It away early - we shall see.  For a start, there were basically just four of us. We were all individuals at root, in our hearts and we had minds of our own, we weren’t followers of the pack, but there were four of us in it together and would like to have delved into the pasts of the other three a  bit more before continuing as I think that would be advantageous to us all now. Hold it just a minute, how am I going to do this to describe somebody’s life leading up to the time we are talking about without giving away some secrets about what they would do later - and that oughtn’t be done. For we are all conditioned and destined to a fixed character and there is no freewill apart from if you are God or Royalty. If I did so you would predict their actions too easily and too accurately.

These guys were about seventeen years of age when we knew each other. Before that I can’t really say much more or go into depths and fine details and all that- - it would be too tricky. We probably knew, or had heard diffuse and vague rumours about, each other but! don’t think that meant that we knew what we had been up to before then - knew our biographical notes. To a certain extent we all withheld information from one another and this kept us strong, was the way it should be and kept us guessing: in my opinion at any rate. This did not mean we were hiding the truth, I think we were fairly open with each other when we met aged thirteen and sometimes, if there had been something momentous, stupendous and magnificent you would hear about it through the grapevine in seconds flat You would hear a story (usually lies) though and you would never be sure if it was true or just somebody showing off or boasting. When it was authentic it was a major surprise put it like that. I know the facts of one secret which I would like to talk about but my conscience won’t permit that if only there were secrets you could get away with talking about and exposing. Anyway it was about permissive sex, I think, at any rate. So there it is then. If I can’t talk about secrets I still hope that! can talk a little about what happened back then. I desire very much to evade blame here. But there is a powerful likelihood that persons unknown would forbid the reworking and rehashing of the past for no real reason other than to assuage guilt or to square this action with oneself. The distance of time, however, is so great that my memory is cloudy; over certain aspects, my memory eludes me anyway, and, because I was involved I didn’t really know what everybody was saying and thinking, certainly had no rational viewpoint. As ever! was only allowed a small modicum of objectivity. I overheard some people talking about what we had done and even spoke to a few when they had not realized! played a part, a key role, in the “spectacle”, if you can call it that And therefore I got an observer’s interpretation of these events despite being incriminated up to my neck.

However, even that moment when I was in possession of a secret (call it “the” secret if you please) of my own was jaded by what had occurred on the previous evening. This, for instance, does not escape my memory, no, I remember it precisely down to the most minute speck of dust on the carpet I was bowled over by what had occurred for the sole reason that this claustrated me from any dream I may have harboured of ever escaping the weight of the school law and principles, unwarranted in the first case. I was merely nipping out for a fag after prep, my fingers still fragrant with tobacco odour: prep lasted two hours then I had about an hour before I had to be back In my boarding house for lights out I had just finished my cigarette and had only just hidden the butt somewhere when Maurice, a friend, turned up and said that he wanted to talk to his house-master about Glasnostic. “Look mate, It’s time we had words.”  He was with Rhett and they both looked very glum and serious. “It is about Glasnostlc. it’s all got out of hand. I think we should all go and talk to Mr Bryce to try and sort it. Come on let’s head over there right now, yeah?” To this I could only manage a restraining, “But that’s mad. Got to be, surely?” Maurice was talking in low voices to Rhett and it seemed colder outside in the alley than a few minutes ago. “you do realise I’m not coming, don’t you? You couldn’t pay me enough.” Then I said! thought the less people who knew about it - the better. There seemed to be no way to tell these people what! thought of them and it was agreed upon with alacrity that! had agreed. Next, it transpired that he already knew it was Maurice or suspectedor a source had informed so it was too late already. I still thought going through the chilly wind that evening and talking about it, even if we did not directly implicate ourselves as such was a very risky manoeuvre and would inevitably uncover our activity. They eventually persuaded me to go and see their house-master; this turned out to be quite a large mistake In fact a totally misguided error almost as If Maurice and Rhett had become traitors to the cause and would not fight the good fight for a belief. Because upon my return an hour and a half after our correct bedtime, when I was exhausted mentally and physically, I was questioned by the tutor in charge of us that night I refused to answer anything until I had another master present to avoid being misquoted and/or set up our activity. They eventually persuaded me to go and see their house-master; this turned out to be quite a large mistake In fact a totally misguided error almost as If Maurice and Rhett had become traitors to the cause and would not fight the good fight for a belief. Because upon my return an hour and a half after our correct bedtime, when I was exhausted mentally and physically, I was questioned by the tutor in charge of us that night I refused to answer anything until I had another master present to avoid being misquoted and/or set up.

The conversation during that meeting was a protracted one and not of a type I was either eager to be involved with, or particularly professional at, nor accustomed to having. I am aware of seeming extremely uncomfortable and ill at ease in front of Mr Bryce. The magazine was, you could speak of it~ as rude as any schoolboy’s language and! saw the problem but also didn’t see it One of my favourites was the problem page. A pupil writes in to the agony uncle (one of us): “Dear Deirdre, I can’t find my brain.”

We answer, “Perhaps that’s because you don’t have one.” Of course we took it further: one of us then wrote into our own problem page and went: ‘I am beginning to feel that nobody knows who I am. Nobody seems to appreciate me because I spend my whole life with my circular saw - Sandra. I am convinced! have a personality somewhere but neither! nor anybody else can find it Yesterday! was more upset than usual because my own wife of twenty years forgot my name. Help me please.”

The problem solver took on the case with flair and gusto by saying, memorably, ‘Well, well, this Is a tricky one...! can fully understand your predicament. I think that the best solution maybe to kill yourself.”

Next we said:” May I suggest that you do this by sharpening that violin bow of yours and repeatedly stabbing it into your heart. You do take violin lessons still don’t you?  if this doesn’t work for you then go and see a psychiatrist” Signed yours helpfully, Uncle Whoever. P.s. I think writing in to your own problem page Is a bit sad.” May be amoral, but at least it was witty writing. Maurice and Rhett, a mutual friend, who’d taken part in glasnostic, both were on amiable terms, as opposed to my relation, with their house-master so they did not think it strange in the least that they should laugh, joke and chat with him. “Sir, I think it is a good thing that we have some relaxation, some fun. We all had a laugh when we read it on Thursday.” Maurice stated his intention with a studied and contemplative air. “It isn’t influencing us, sir. We won’t start turning into clockwork oranges.