Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Goodbye Iron Lady, And Thank You.

Well I had a much, much better night but have woken up muzzy headed and deaf. One hot bath and several hot drinks later I'm less deaf and less muzzy headed but still feeling pretty awful. I've had a couple more dizzy spells but they were no where as bad as the last one so that is encouraging.

I swear I drank so much yesterday that there were slopping sounds coming from my stomach when I moved. I am assured by Peter that the stench of Olbas oil is almost unbearable and 'yes the TV is very loud'. I am feeling a little better in myself though and that is always a good sign. It could be the placebo effect of taking another antibiotic or the sheer relief that it isn't what I was dreading it to be but as long  I improve, who cares?

Peter has been very solicitous to the point of being a pain in the neck. Every time I got up from the settee it was 'what are you doing?' He is working today and the next two days so I'll get a bit of peace and won't be interrogated every time I need the loo, and with all this tea I'm needing the loo a fair bit. He means well though and I know that with Papworth looming on Friday I need to at least be well on the road to recovery. So I will sit and watch endless TV, read until I doze off and keep drinking and steaming, even though I am going almost crazy with the inactivity.

Fortunately, and I realise that sounds all wrong, there was a major event yesterday that kept me glued to the box all afternoon.

Baroness Margaret Thatcher, former Prime Minister of Great Britain died after suffering a stoke at the age of eighty seven.

How strange that sentence sounds. MT was one of those people whom you imagined would live for ever, a bit like royalty or your own parents, anyone who seemed strong and invincible. Yes we all know she was in failing health and had numerous strokes but expected or not the country appeared to rock back on its heals in shock when the news broke. It was one of those 'where were you when' moments.

I think everyone accepts she was not a universally loved figure but love her or hate her you would be inhuman if you didn't admire her strength and drive. Unlike the recent crop of PM's MT was not a product of a privileged life and private school, she knew what it was to go hungry, to want what others had and she knew what war was like. Not for her the pussy footing around the liberal lefty political correctness brigade. She saw what needed doing and she did it, regardless of who it upset. She was braver than all the PM's that have come after her put together. She did what had to be done no matter how unpopular it made her, unlike the recent lot who always have one eye on the opinion polls.

Tony Blair was bright enough to recognise this strength and when he sent troops into Iraq and Afghanistan it was in the hope his actions would put his legacy up there with hers. The only problem was that when we went to war with Argentina we were fighting for our people and America supported us. She also didn't have to lie to get parliament and the people to back her.

As for the miners, steelworkers etc, well lets not forget that the union leaders, lead by a small bloke with a bad comb over called Arthur Scargill, played their part in that fiasco too. MT was right about the unions, they were crippling Britain and had far too much power. I remember walking around piles of stinking rubbish, and the rats that came with it and pleasant it was not. OK, I am ready to admit she could have tackled things a bit better and if union leaders were not so greedy and uncompromising maybe things would have turned out as a compromise everyone was happy with. However she knew that if she showed any weakness Britain would never recover so she did what had to be done.

What must never be forgotten though is that there was another side to her, the side that cried over the deaths of the soldiers she sent to war. The side that was a wife and mother and did her own cooking. Whatever you think of her politics she was a human being and a frail old lady at the end and just like any other human being in death deserves a little peace. And if you can't find it in your heart to respect the woman herself then give a thought to her grieving family. To you she may be the person you hate most in life but to them she was mum, auntie, grandma, sister, and surely they do deserve a little respect.

Unfortunately there are those so indoctrinated with hate that, even though a good deal of them were not even born at the time, they have taken to the streets, Twitter, Facebook etc, to rejoice at her passing. These vile insults have been lead by the odious George Galloway of the ironically named Respect party. A man who wouldn't know respect if it got up and bit him on the nose. Maybe it is because of my situation but I find celebrating the loss of a human life, any human life, immensely distasteful. Fortunately these idiots are in the majority and even life long enemies have come out and condemned this turn of events.

So there it is, a potted history of what I remember of the Thatcher years. There is a lot I've left out, to chart it all would take weeks of blog space, and everything written is my own take on the situation. There are going to be those who vehemently disagree with my opinions, there usually are. And there will be those who want to correct me on a few things. However, before I'm flooded with hate mail and nit pickers, can I just remind you that this is a personal blog and my opinions are mine alone and won't be changed by screaming insults at me. For me personally, Margaret Thatcher was an icon of our time and I just wish I had her resolve, her strong morals and her physical and mental strength and will always remember Britain's one and only female Prime Minister. Thank you Margaret, may you rest in peace.

Right off to grab a bit of lunch, will it be Heinz tomato soup or Heinz tomato soup?