(Originally posted on Facebook)
Right, I’ve thought about it…
I didn’t like Margaret Thatcher, at least within the context that I was able to make a judgement on liking or disliking her, and that is to say in terms of her politics and the manner in which she conducted herself as Prime Minister.
That she made history as the first woman to ever hold the post is to be remembered and respected; it’s hard to understand how we do not have far more visible and accomplished women in British politics given the massive impact she had upon the zeitgeist while she was running our country.
I make no apology for having enjoyed, immensely, her fall from power – that is a part of “the show that never ends” and even though one might say she took it with good grace, I was cheering along with all the others as she was driven away from Number 10, and it was all the sweeter for the tears that were visibly about to erupt from her eyes.
Am I happy today? No. Today an elderly woman who was unwell passed away, leaving her family to grieve. I cannot begin to imagine how horrid it must be to be her child or grandchild and see otherwise lovely normal people cheering and planning parties to “celebrate” the passing of their Mum or their Granny. If she had truly been a dictator, with no mandate from the electorate, or if she had truly presided over illegal actions, or if indeed the record of history could show that she did anything but that which she believed to be right within the confines of the system she was put in charge of by the people, then that judgement should have come through the courts during or after her time as P.M., not posthumously as portion of the populace dance on her grave. Certainly history will judge her; if you’ve not run a country I am of the opinion that the day of her death is not the time to criticise – should have got it in while she was still alive, or at least wait a decent interval and stick to the facts.
Above all it’s hard not to concede that if passions run this high across the spectrum about someone, then they were not coasting through life or choosing the path of least resistance. For all her faults, as I see them at any rate, you couldn’t call her a coward or a milk-sop or frankly anyone’s bitch. It’s not that hard to respect someone while disliking them and disagreeing with them, when you get right down to it.
So, no party for me, no crowing or jubilation; let’s just do our best to remember that when our Mum’s die we’d probably rather no one threw a party either.
To be clear, I don’t like her now, even now she’s dead – just in case any of you were wondering…