The death of Mrs T (a.k.a Baroness Thatcher) seems to have stirred up as much discord as her leadership did all those years ago.
News crews from all the leading channels are also exacerbating things by, either deliberately or inadvertently (guess which I think it is?) stirring the pot by doing ‘Tories versus devastated Northern communities’ interviews, and running comments from the old Tory dinosaurs and sad, balding old anarchists, just to be able to pad out their stories, shit stir and subsequently make as many headlines and as much money as possible from her passing.
Note – the press don’t give a flying fuck about these long forgotten, neglected towns. Will they now use their power to rally the government to do something about rejuvenating these areas or bringing back more businesses and jobs to these poor, bitter townsfolk that they have milked for soundbites? Unlikely. Once Maggie is in the ground, they will all just piss off back to London and the next big story, rubbing their grubby little hands together with glee, leaving these people all stirred up with no place to go.
As I checked my FB that momentous day, it was also clear that social media sites are rife with people pronouncing their glee and hatred of her, and as a result of some total dipshits organising street parties to celebrate her death, riots and looting once again fill our streets, shaming our country and devastating our local communities, shops and businesses.
Oh well, on the plus side, the press will be delighted. More headlines = more papers sold.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m no fan of the Iron Lady. I remember only too well the miners strike, the terminal loss of UK manufacturing and the dreaded poll tax riots, and maybe it’s my age, but for people to hang onto, roll in and and cling to their hatred of her for over thirty years seems a pretty sad state of affairs to me. I understand why but the harm hatred causes to one’s inner self is like a cancer, and stops people from being able to move on and try and start their lives afresh.
I also don’t believe in the celebration of anyone’s death, no matter how heinous they were in life.
People live their lives, they fuck up, they die, and that goes for all of us. Death is the great equaliser, and even as we speak, no doubt Maggie will be getting an end of term report as to whether her contribution to this life was a good one. What does dancing on someone’s grave say about the person slamming their heels into the newly laid earth? If you watched a video of yourself doing this, would you be proud? Amused? Or just a little embarrassed maybe?
And, more’s the point, what will they do with their hatred now? Hopefully lay it to rest and focus on more positive things, but in my experience, people feel the absence of someone/something to hate and blame their woes on, especially if it has been the driving force in their lives and tend to redirect it onto someone/something else and the rot continues, grows and flourishes.
Hate ‘em or not, dead people usually have families; wives, husbands, lovers, grandkids, people who loved them. Whatever this person has done in life, is it fair to make things worse for those they leave behind? How would you like it if someone held a party when your mum died?
Whilst it’s deep in my roots to resist mourning the passing of this (some would say) venerable dragon (my Dad would kill me) there is no doubt that like her or loathe her, she did make her mark in this life.
And seeing how she eked out her existence after she left office did make me feel that she’s already some way down the line in working through her karma. True she lived out the last of her days in the Ritz Hotel in the lap of luxury, but the very worst thing that can happen to someone who used and relied on their whip smart mind and intellect to get on in life is to have it taken from them in the form of Alzheimer’s and dementia.
It must have been absolutely torturous for her, and I have to say (God help me) that I do feel some pity for her, as in addition to this, in those passing years she lost her beloved Denis, her kids allegedly neglected her, and apart from the odd visit from a few very loyal friends, she must have led a very lonely life.
So, despite my ambivalence, working class roots, and potential dead parent damnation, I’m going to say it.
<waits for the lightning bolt>
God speed and rest well. Because if there is such a thing as reincarnation, your next life could be a very different one. Possibly based in a mining village north of Watford Gap.