Now Portia has not always enjoyed the most cordial of relations with the above lady. She took my school milk away when I was a little girl, and I have taken a dim view of her ever since.



Many years were spent sitting on picket lines, going on demos, signing petitions and hopefully bringing about the downfall of the dreaded and dreadFUL Mrs Thatch.



The Baroness Margaret Hilda has not been aware of my views on her politics - and should she have been aware, she probably would have ignored them anyway.



Yesterday I went to a very nice Church in Central London to pay my respects to a very nice old chap who had died recently. All the great and the good were there - and rather a lot of not so great or good.



When I found my seat in the freezing nave, my old chum Jonno whispers to me that he had seen Herself totter by earlier. Jonno, was suitably impressed, but I felt shivers running down my spine. Never before had shared the same space as Herself.. I was sure whether the chills were due to her presence, or to the arctic temperatures in the church.



Service was very nice and Jonno and I embarrassed all our friends and relatives by singing the hymns at top volume, but after the service had ended, the real business of the day began, i.e. spotting who was there.



A huge procession of Very Important People processed down the aisle and I got a nudge to tell me that SHE was approaching. I stood on tippy toes, as neither me nor Herself are particularly tall and....I caught a glimpse of her!! it was only sideways on, but I couldn't look again. I had a feeling that if I did, it would be like looking into the eyes of the Gorgon and I would be turned to stone.



Scary.



John Major was just behind her, and despite that he was a naughty sort of Tory himself and Herself's protege, he still looked like a human being and definitely the sort of chap one could retire to the Cafe Rouge with and share a bottle of Bordeaux.



I would not contemplate doing such a thing with the Baroness - because some removals men would have to come to the Cafe, remove my stone effigy and take it to the British Museum.



A-trembling,







Portia



ps.  Maybe the Gorgon brought on the attack of the Gout!