Margaret Thatcher had stopped being "Margaret Thatcher" a long time ago. Most of her confidantes suggest that the death of her husband Denis was a blow that left her shattered and from which she never recovered. In a way, of course such loyalty and love was only to be expected in a woman who embodied so many of the virtues and the vices of a suburban house wife. She had suffered increasingly from poor health after a series of strokes and it was a more or less open secret that "her mental powers were not what they were": she had dementia. Her friend and close political ally, Norman Tebbit, described her death as "a release", and perhaps it was. Yet the passions that her passing have unleashed are so extreme- both of condemnation and adulation- that it seems that Britain has still not yet come to terms with the tumultuous decade when "The Leaderene", "Attila the Hen" or "The Great She-Elephant", all terms bestowed by her own
Musings on World events from the perspective of a Social and an Economic Liberal.