This week Thatcher died and was
buried, a fact that would have had little emotional resonance for you. But you, like no-one else I’ve ever known,
would have relished the political discussion it's sparked and all of its subtext. The media have necessarily made it a time of
reflection, but what I reflected on most of all was that you’re missing at
times like this: my father who took the opportunity of every mealtime to prick
my political conscious.