I detested her - but then I’d been raised in a poor home in the East End of London by staunch Labour parents and, in my defence, glowing with the allegedly perfect ideology of the benefits of Communism, I had never considered any other option, wrongly convinced that the only ‘workers’ were the ‘working class’. What rubbish that is. The first time I can honestly say I felt for Mrs Thatcher was when her own people stabbed her in the back. I thought that was terrible. There’s nothing to recommend disloyalty. Then Tony Blair came along and had me dancing around at the wonderful news. Victory!!! Euphoria!!!
I voted for him … once.
In retrospect Mrs Thatcher was the best thing for this country since sliced bread, as ‘they’ say. I never voted Labour again - and nor would I. The party of the working man has not been for the working man for a very long time. Labour is an on-going, impossibly idealistic shambles.
Here endeth a bit of my life story. If you’ve dozed off you can wake up now. :o)