The Funeral of Baroness Thatcher – 17th April 2013
There are some things you feel compelled to do, attend. I did. There are some things you never forget… this I never shall…
I travelled to London from Yorkshire with two fellow activists in the small hours of the morning to ensure we got to the City in time. We found our place near St Pauls ahead of the procession starting. I have been asked many times if I wished to be in the Cathedral – I can honestly say no. I was meant to be on the pavements and among the people.
Having worked in London many times and sometimes for months in succession, I have seen it at its busiest.. and relished the ’empty’ streets and open roads of Yorkshire as a relief from it once home. I have never seen a City so packed, streets so full and yet a calm silence with it. Row upon row of people congregating, exchanging stories, their own account and memories of Lady Thatcher and why they had made their journey and where from. This is the post from my Facebook page for the very day…
”In London, to pay respects to Baroness Thatcher. The pavements are six deep, street after street, with people.
A very humbling and emotional day to witness her funeral procession, the Armed Forces, Police and crowds applaud as they each pass by. Long journey, long day but very pleased to be here..
I sincerely hope the day passes without incident for the sake of her family more than anything but also because the eyes of the world are upon us. Today should reflect dignity – not disarray.”
Bizzarely given her reputation for causing ‘division’ – I did not witness one cross word or altercation. It was as if in that moment the whole of the Country was indeed together. The atmosphere was indescribable, I think poignant, quietly dignified, tinged with a steady anticipation probably covers it – until the procession began.
You could hear the bands before you could see them, then one by one each Armed Force began to appear, that then is when the steady clapping began… until there she was, it was a gripping moment. When complete strangers stood side by side hugged each other and cried – and of course I did…
It seemed to go on forever but was in reality over in minutes and then the streets fell silent in a way I am sure I will never experience again. A tangible quiet where people stood heads bowed while they absorbed what they had just seen. Undoubtedy for once – just for that moment – Political divides came crashing down.
The journey home was of quiet contemplation, the country roads of Yorkshire – the same I had pounded with leaflets in hand just days before – you knew would never be the same again.
There will never be another ‘Maggie’ and if you are a woman in Politics, to be compared to her is both a compliment AND a curse because of course you want to carve your own path, create your own worth. She is one of many ladies in Politics for whom I have a huge amount of respect and of course I would wish to achieve just as much but for me she is now just Margaret who was a girl, a daughter, a student, a chemist from Lincolnshire. As I tread the same streets she did – while working in Grantham – now I do carve my own path.
