Peter was the honorary counsel for France in Bristol, being officially appointed to that role on February 27, 1984, a position he then held for nearly two decades.
I always thought it sounded very exciting having read Graham Greene’s thriller of the same name, although I was perhaps also thinking of John Le Carre’s The Honourable Schoolboy. Either way I felt espionage and covert operations could well be involved.
The reality was not quite so dramatic. As honorary counsel, Peter’s primary responsibility was to manage the local interests of French nationals and maintain cultural and commercial ties with France in Bristol and the South West.
Like most honorary counsel Peter was not a career diplomat but he was a prominent businessman given his role as south west regional manager at Société Générale and so well qualified for the role.
It was a voluntary position and this meant that Peter was the local point of contact for French nationals in Bristol and the region, particularly for emergency assistance for French nationals in distress, which typically meant under arrest or at least in some kind of trouble. Inevitably this did mean the occasional phone call at some very anti-social hours, which did not impress Mum.
In more civilised hours Peter also represented France at local commemorative or official events, often assisting with maritime and trade relations between the Port of Bristol and France.
But it was a French naval matter which caused Peter the most diplomatic stress in his time as honorary counsel.
Because in March 1987 a French warship, the Henri Poincaré, named after the famous French mathematician, docked at Avonmouth. It really could not be missed as it was 210 meters long (the third largest vessel in the French fleet at the time) and was a sophisticated command and tracking ship used for monitoring ballistic missile tests and satellite launches. Indeed it served as a mobile tracking station for the M4 MSBS ballistic missiles and later for Ariane rocket launches.
As such the vessel was a vital part of the French nuclear deterrent programme, and was particularly high profile because of its five massive radar “golf ball” domes (radomes).
Peter was alerted in order to ensure an appropriate diplomatic welcome was afforded to the vessel, but Labour controlled Bristol City Council had other ideas and, in the favoured journalese of the Bristol Evening Post, issued a firm non to any civic welcome given the ship’s direct involvement in the French nuclear weapons programme. The Council viewed its presence as a contradiction to the city’s anti-nuclear stance (Bristol City Council had officially designated the city a Nuclear-Free Zone in 1981). Accepting a military vessel so central to another nation’s nuclear deterrent was seen by many of the councillors as an endorsement of nuclear weaponry.
And it wasn’t just the Council who were unhappy. When the ship docked at Avonmouth it was met with demonstrations from local peace activists and members of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND).
So Peter had a lot on his plate and some awkward Je regrette conversations with a top French admiral in London and various other French dignitaries. Thankfully Peter could draw on the support of Charles Clarke, the highly influential senior partner of the law firm Osborne Clarke and a prominent mover and shaker in all manner of Bristol community matters, to help him try and smooth things over.
Whilst official receptions remained conspicuous by their absence the rest of Bristol had no such qualms and the ship’s company of 338 matelots were not short of options when it came to their runs onshore with nightclubs, restaurants and the city’s football clubs all falling over themselves to offer free tickets and entertainment generally.
And even if the city council and port remained sulky, there were plenty of other Bristolian businessmen, service personnel and local grandees keen to welcome the vessel and its crew. And so a few days after its arrival Peter was able to board the ship and enjoy the captain’s hospitality (including a celebratory Dejeuner on 24 March) knowing he had done his best for Anglo-French relations. And as I happened to be visiting Bristol that week I got an invite to come aboard and look around, as the honorary counsel’s honorary assistant for the day.
The Henri Poincaré actually made a swift return visit to Bristol later that summer, over the August bank holiday weekend. And this time the welcome was much less equivocal because with a bit more notice and fancy diplomatic footwork, there had been a successful pivot to classify this second visit as a maritime rather than a military event, with the public duly invited. When it returned the Henri Poincaré did not stop at Avonmouth but actually navigated the River Avon, making its way up the Floating Harbour to dock right bang in the City centre, a tight squeeze through the Cumberland basin locks, which must have been quite a sight to behold.
Notwithstanding this feat, the Henri Poincaré was decommissioned in 1992 and later sold for demolition.
Peter did rather better: like most honorary counsel his efforts did not go unrecognised and although ostensibly for his long years of service to the French bank, Peter was awarded the Ordre National du Mérite (National Order of Merit) in May 1990, the second-highest national order in France after the Legion of Honour, which bestowed on him the rank of Chevalier (Knight). Peter also got a letter from Buckingham Palace acknowledging his contribution to fostering Anglo-French relations in the South West of England. Not from Her Majesty, sadly, but all the same a splendid way for Peter to bow out as honorary counsel.
