MAGGIE THATCHER

I am Welsh.
I lived in Wales through much of Maggie’s time in power, I saw the hardship…I also remember the dark times before Maggie came into power.

Despite that, I cannot celebrate or rejoice the death of another human being.

She was a mother, a grandmother, a friend and her life was not just those years in power. Anyone who doubts that just has to watch her children and her grandchildren at the service, her daughter biting her lip and holding back tears and her grandson’s shoulders heaving as he composes himself in grief, both with the world watching. I imagine what it would be like if people had protested at the funeral of my mother, how I would feel, and my heart goes out to her family. There are real human beings involved, this is their time to grieve the woman they knew away from politics; let them do it in peace.

that is fair enough Ladies above and i respect your decisions..

lydon/rotten sold out before “selling out” was even a phrase.

while respecting your decisions i will go ahead with mine..

/slainte !

and Ding fvcking Dong x

but i have NO respect for her.. or her family. I cannot pretend i do and make a hypocrite of myself ! I could have shut up and joined in with the apologists, but my basic, human morals would not allow that.

yes.

more doggerel

I thought I would dance, I thought I would sing
I confess to a malevolent uttering
Or two, or more, well more than four
But not one tenth as many as I thought would outpour

Even the day when they marked her departure
I said little or nothing about Margaret Thatcher
Spent most of the day in silent distraction
Wanting to give her scant recognition

She was a widow, a mum, a gran too
But a far different person to me and you
Her loved ones entitled to their private grief
Her much-vaunted “Freedom!” gives public release

The right to be, whether for or against her
“She divided opinion” we’re told, why not let her
In death, as in life leave a legacy not
Of just winners and losers, but action and thought?

You see

I don’t miss the milk – I was quite a fat lad
But the loss of a spirit I thought I once shared
With the land of my birth, the lasting sentiment
That we were all in it together – back then I thought it was meant

When she prayed to mend discord it didn’t ring true
And the dissonance jarred me, through and through
As she bound my heritage atop the mountain
On an altar to Mammon, her hand never staying

Even when voices called with unrecognised facts
“It need not be this way”, she still swung her axe
And instead of our matriarch, leading us on
Became the lost devil-child, killing the one

The common wealth that had redeemed our smeared past
Was clawed half away from us tight in her grasp
And in the twilight, we learned the cost
Of suspicion and selfishness ruling the roost

She was not the devil – though I’ve often said it
She was not the witch – although execrated
She was the prime mover of the 1980s
And left a bitterness which many have tasted

But she’s dead now, and I will continue to blame her
For the loss of a nation – or just in bleak humour
But far more important than my memory of that one
Is: When my time is over, what will I have done?