Margaret Thatcher. A woman who started life as the daughter of a shopkeeper in Grantham and went on to become Britain's first female Prime Minister, a Lady of the Order of the Garter and a Member of the Order of Merit. And who will, according to the media, apparently be chiefly remembered solely for being "controversial".

Whilst her body was still warm the TV stations dragged in a stream of sour-faced interviewees to lament her legacy. Polly Toynbee, complaining that although the miners would have been out of a job in any event at least Thatcher could have been a bit nicer about it. IRA terrorists who once tried to blow her up and now have a veneer of respectability grumbling about her foreign policy. Marxist comedians being unfunny. Some Dave Spart from the NUM suggesting that the collapse of a doomed industry was entirely down to her, personally.

I am one of Thatcher's children. As a kid I remember rolling blackouts, industry being a bad joke and Britain being the sick man of Europe. In a few, short years the UK had become one of the richest countries in the world, and whatever our current economic woes that is still the case.

    Vale

I wouldn't have a job were it not for her. Nor would most of our readers. RollOnFriday exists because London is the legal capital of the world. Would the likes of Clifford Chance, Freshfields, Allen & Overy and Linklaters all be headquartered here if she had never come to power? And what about the other end of the scale to Big Law? This morning there was a line of suits, waiting patiently in the rain, outside a new coffee stand by Temple tube station. As he made up my Americano the barrista told me that he had been in prison, and this was a new venture to get ex cons and drug addicts back on their feet. Would Michael Foot have fostered a culture where this sort of enterprise would thrive?

Inevitably not everyone will agree with this. But does it really show us as a respectful, decent nation when our screens are full of assorted pond life, unwilling to wait until her funeral next week to dance on her grave, staging an impromptu street party in Brixton to celebrate the death of an elderly widow?


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