Margaret and Me: reflections from my Thatcher years
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The Thatcher funeral pontificates in the background as I write. I feel a weary resignation to a day of eulogy, of history revised, though if nothing else, this event provokes me to be reflective on my own past. I was in my late teens when Thatcher came to power. I remember those years with an emotional resonance, the deja vu feeling that comes with recalling tough times. I had a passing interest that she was a woman. I was new to feminism and embraced it into my strange, sheltered life as I...