I arrived in Marshfield an hour before the meeting. I wondered why Drake, the chairman had thought that my presence was so important. I went into the local Party office. I had to be present every Friday evening and I intended to do so for years. My work was to interview a couple of dozen constituents about their housing problems, their pensions and a lot of individual problems.
After a year of elections I started to make excuses. I couldn’t find houses for people when the houses didn’t exist. I thought that these constituency problems were better dealt with by letter. In reality there was so little I could do to help people, who waited patiently to see me.
I wanted to believe that they had called me in order to make me promise to attend more regularly in future. I thought that I must win them back for if I lost Marshfield I would have lost everything -no seat, no right of entry to the House of Commons.
Entering the room I met Jimmy March, the Party secretary. It seemed to me that he was avoiding me. I felt that he was rather indifferent to me. I understood that something was wrong and tried to promise to be along more regularly on Fridays in future. I drew from my experience that I should do my useless work and make image that I am helping people.
ПЕРЕВОД НЕ НУЖЕН
Нужен пересказ от лица Byrne (не больше одного листа)
... + в конце нужно еще написать - "what lesson did Byrne draw from the experience)"
Byrne arrived in Marshfield an hour before the meeting was due to start. He wondered why Drake, the chairman, had thought it so important that he should be present.
He let himself into the local Party office, a shop in the High Street which had been turned into an office during the election in 1950. There was a photograph of himself on one of the walls taken nine years ago which advertised:
Mr. John Byrne, your new M.P.2 will attend at3 these offices from 6.30 p.m. onwards every Friday evening. Bring your problems to your new Labour M.P.2 He will solve them for you.
Perhaps that was the trouble, he thought. He had intended to be present every Friday evening when he was elected, for a year he had attended regularly. Every Friday he had interviewed a couple of dozen constituents about their housing problems, their pensions and a lot of individual problems.
After a year he started to make excuses. He could not find houses for people when the houses did not exist, and in any case these constituency problems were better dealt with by letter. What was the point in spending every Friday evening in the dirty office, when there was so little he could do to help the people who waited patiently to see him?
He decided that they had called him in order to make him promise to attend more regularly in future.
I must win them back, he thought, for if he lost Marshfield he had lost everything - no seat, no right of entry to the House of Commons.4
Jimmy March, the Party secretary, entered the room with his pile of agendas and started to place them on each of the chairs. He was, too, obviously avoiding Byrne, whom he must have noticed.
"Hello, Jimmy," Byrne called cheerfully, "always on the job."
"Oh, hello."
Byrne could feel the hostility in the emphatic way March moved round the room.
"I hear there’s likely to be a spot of bother tonight," Byrne said.
"Perhaps."
"Of course, I’ll be along more regularly on Fridays in future now we’re in Government."5
"It’ll be a change to see you," March said indifferently.
Byrne arrived in Marshfield an hour before the meeting was due to start. He wondered why Drake, the chairman, had thought it so important that he should be present.
He let himself into the local Party office, a shop in the High Street which had been turned into an office during the election in 1950. There was a photograph of himself on one of the walls taken nine years ago which advertised:
Mr. John Byrne, your new M.P.2 will attend at3 these offices from 6.30 p.m. onwards every Friday evening. Bring your problems to your new Labour M.P.2 He will solve them for you.
Perhaps that was the trouble, he thought. He had intended to be present every Friday evening when he was elected, for a year he had attended regularly. Every Friday he had interviewed a couple of dozen constituents about their housing problems, their pensions and a lot of individual problems.
After a year he started to make excuses. He could not find houses for people when the houses did not exist, and in any case these constituency problems were better dealt with by letter. What was the point in spending every Friday evening in the dirty office, when there was so little he could do to help the people who waited patiently to see him?
He decided that they had called him in order to make him promise to attend more regularly in future.
I must win them back, he thought, for if he lost Marshfield he had lost everything - no seat, no right of entry to the House of Commons.4
Jimmy March, the Party secretary, entered the room with his pile of agendas and started to place them on each of the chairs. He was, too, obviously avoiding Byrne, whom he must have noticed.
"Hello, Jimmy," Byrne called cheerfully, "always on the job."
"Oh, hello."
Byrne could feel the hostility in the emphatic way March moved round the room.
"I hear there’s likely to be a spot of bother tonight," Byrne said.
"Perhaps."
"Of course, I’ll be along more regularly on Fridays in future now we’re in Government."5
"It’ll be a change to see you," March said indifferently.
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