Being ready - Jane

"Miracles come in moments. Be ready and willing."
(Wayne Dyer)

 

The French-born, passionate writer Anais Nin noted that: "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." I've felt oddly diminished recently by unexpected animosity from a neighbour; staggering how pettiness can seem to impact on every area of daily life. It's made me shrink a little back into myself in the past month or so: my willingness to trust has wilted; the usually bright sleeve I wear my heart and soul on is held a bit closer to my side.

The upset prompted a visit to Portsmouth last Thursday; my sister was window-shopping and I wanted to take her to the Catholic cathedral of St John the Baptist. While we were there, my sister and I silently wrote prayer requests for a lovely lady called Jane, who'd become critically ill after battling a debilitating condition for more than a decade. Jane has been a friend to my family for most of my adult life: married to my brother-in-law's best friend, she seamlessly became my sister's closest confidante; she was also extremely kind to my mother when her own health and enthusiasm were failing.

In more recent years, I've come to know Jane better myself and often felt she was a natural ally and a font of stoic humour and warmth. She's always been a lively and tireless woman. Never knowingly unacessorised, her effortless elegance belied the hands-on occupations and long hours she worked to help make her family tick. With a voice perfectly pitched somewhere between Joanna Lumley and Sue Lawley, she delivered one-liners and venomless sarcasm with the widest grin. Her smile made me more comfortable with my own rather large gob. Jane has always reminded me of a bouncy but slightly concerned Head Girl: she seemed ready for anything, wanting to grab the day by the collar.

She probably wasn't ready for an infection in her big heart, in the prime of life, but until relatively recently she's soldiered on, swishing her shawl around her impatiently and cheerfully correcting my table etiquette.

Last autumn, Jane was present with her husband Brian as my sister's mother-in-law's ashes were interred; by now, she was in a wheelchair, which she clearly objected to but endured to get from A to B. My brother-in-law was trying to keep things together as he said a few words about his mother. Jane suddenly interrupted him very emotionally: "Tell her you love her Gordon; tell her you'll miss her everyday!" I hadn't seen Jane for a while and there was a passion and urgency I hadn't appreciated before: something had changed. I'd written a poem for Evelyn, which I read quickly. As we all turned to leave the cemetery, Jane asked me to write something for her when the time came. Upset, I told her I would, but that would be a long way off. She said quietly that no, it wouldn't be long at all.

A little less than a year on and I'm having to write that poem.

 

 

As my sister and I sat eating garlic bread at Portsmouth harbour, her mobile started up. Having been hospitalised with acute heart failure, the medical team had agreed with Jane that there was nothing more they could reasonably do. She had been transported home to be with the family she adored; all but palliative medication would be withdrawn. Anxious to clarify what was happening, I spoke to Jane's son Chris. He told me his mother was "ready"; she had assured them of that much. I realised immediately that Jane being ready was infinitely more significant and compelling than any professional prognosis of days or hours. Two days later, Jane died at home and in her sleep.

While I was travelling back from Portsmouth to Brighton, I channel-hopped on my radio headphones as the signalled bounced through train tunnels and over rural tracks. I kept catching one of my favourite David Gray songs from station to station. I'd introduced my mother to Mr Gray's music; "The one with the wobbly head", as Mum preferred to call him. She became so fond of "Babylon" that I later included it on the CD of music for her wake.

The song seemed quite prophetic to me as I travelled home last week. Not particularly concentrating on any biblical reference to mighty things falling away unexpectedly, I've always liked the imagery of the song's verses, with life's traffic lights changing from green to red and eventually on to green again. It made me think of Jane's readiness to embrace life, snags and all; to make perfectly sweetened and superbly served lemonade when you've had over-ripe lemons lobbed at you. My mother shared the same kind of resilience; although my dear Mum wasn't quite the domestic goddess: she would more probably lob the lemons back and ask for a half of Guinness.

When people are quite prepared to endure pain or even death, their readiness is seen as undeniable courage, Certainly Jane was brave to her last breath; I hope this provides some comfort and support for her devoted family. But more than this, something that was always the essence of Jane and so very evident last year at Evelyn's ceremony; Jane realised the importance of being ready for life and love. If you hope to embrace life, open your arms wide enough. If you have a mouth made for smiling,  go ahead and grin. If you love someone, tell them; don't wait until the end of days for it to be The Right Time. Make that call, send that card, write that poem, swish that shawl. Live and love unconditionally for as long as you can and you will find yourself ready.

I haven't finished Jane's poem yet and I still haven't mastered the Downton Abbey way to hold my dinner knife, but I will, I promise.

 

 

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

(Anais Nin)

 

A smiling Jane, may she rest well and peacefully.

(Photo: Gigi, album)

 

"There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.

The readiness is all."

(William Shakespeare)

 

  

"Babylon"  David Gray (acoustic version)

 

"Only wish that you were here,
You know I've seen it so clear;
I've been afraid
To show you how I really feel
Admit to some of those mistakes I've made.
And If you want it come and get it
For crying out loud;
The love that I was giving you was
Never in doubt.
Let go your heart, let go your head
And feel it Now."
 (David Gray)

 

A sleepless dream

 "Is a dream a lie if it don't come true,

or is it something worse?"

(Bruce Springsteen)

"A Change Is Gonna Come"  Sam Cooke (1963)

 

 "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

(Dr Martin Luther King)

On this day, Wednesday 28th August, exactly fifty years ago, a soft cheeked and slightly portly black American thirties-something stood up in front of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. to address more than a quarter of a million people. A fervent and eloquent Baptist minister, he eventually veered off his prepared speech, encouraged or even heckled by his friend, renowned Gospel singer Mahalia Jackson, to "Tell them about the dream, Martin!" As he improvised around his own vision of a united and just world, the fiery preacher in him came to the fore. With a single phrase, the minister from Atlanta, Georgia, joined the ranks of Jefferson and Lincoln and those whose words have helped to define modern America: "I have a dream today."

The rally was the Great March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, one of the largest political or human rights rallies in the history of the United States. The march was organised by civil rights activists, labour groups and religious bodies, with the theme of jobs and freedom. Supportive of the innovations of the Kennedy administration, the march is widely credited with helping to pass the 1964 Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act the year after.

The Baptist minister was of course the Reverend Dr Martin Luther King Junior. He had helped organise the rally, but his address to the masses at Washington and the watching world established him as one of the greatest natural orators in American history. Unfortunately, it also established his reputation as a radical, who would become the object of the Federal Bureau of Investigation's attentions for the remaining five years of his life.

The "Dream" speech is a masterpiece of rhetoric and poetry. King invoked the Declaration of Independence, the Emancipation Proclamation and the United States' Constitution. He alluded to both Lincoln's Gettysburg Address and William Shakespeare. The pastor in King referred poignantly to Psalm 30 and also quoted from the Book of Isaiah. King's speech has now been ranked the most important American speech of the 20th century by scholars of public address. It is as accessible, emotive and relevant today as in the long hot summer of 1963. Clearly, the power of the dream is still alive ; but does that mean little has changed?

Fifty years ago, King's words so moved my father that he copied out the full text, nearly twenty minutes long. I found the notebook in his study, long after Dad had passed away. When I myself was a fifteen year old Rebel Without a Clue, Dad encouraged me to properly read Dr King's speeches, particularly the Washington address. At the time, I was outraged that fascist groups marching through south London were being given police escort. My Dad explained that freedom has to be indivisible: you cannot have your own human rights at another's expense: my first real lesson in the intricate but simplistic truth of equality.

Today, a handsome and charismatic black man sits in the oval shaped office in the white mansion on the hill in Washington D.C. Now in his historic second term of office, President Barack Hussein Obama is married to the strong and beautiful great-granddaughter of African American slaves. In line with Dr King's own vision, Obama's daughters will study and socialise with girls and boys of all cultures and creeds. When I was fifteen, I dreamt this might happen but it still seemed improbable.

Yet the president struggles with his own Senate to establish healthcare and social protection for the disadvantaged of all colours. Inspite of Obama's extraordinary rise, the Senate's glass ceiling for African Americans still seems largely unbreakable. In 1963, there were no sitting African American senators in Congress; this year, briefly, there were two, for the first time in history. Incredibly, in Obama's united nation only three states have ever elected black senators.

In recent weeks, when an innocent black American youth was gunned down after being mistaken for a potential offender because of his colour, age and dress, Obama ruefully noted that the boy might have been him thirty years ago, or indeed one of his own offspring today.

I've reproduced some of the "Dream" speech here, lifting away direct references to places and events in America. The message remains undiluted in universality. The bloody reality of racial and cultural prejudice and genocide stalks through Egypt and Syria and across the globe today. Even in comparatively safe and liberal areas in the UK, such as my own Brighton, division between the haves and the have-nots is palpable and increasingly uncomfortable.

We have still have far to go to realise Dr King's dream. He told us that: "Faith is taking he first step, even when you can't see the whole staircase."  The reverence of his Washington speech today continues to lift people onto that first step. You've got to have a dream; if not, how you gonna make a dream come true?

"I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this cheque, a cheque that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and security of justice.
We have also come to his hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is not time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.
Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy.
Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice.
Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
Now is the time to make justice a reality to all of God's children.You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed. We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the colour of their skin but by their character.
I have a dream today.I have a dream that one day every valley shall be engulfed, every hill shall be exalted and every mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plains and the crooked places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to climb up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning: "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!"When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every tenement and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old spiritual: "Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."

 

 

"How many years can a mountain exist
before it's washed to the sea?
How many years can some people exist
before they're allowed to be free?
Yes and how many times can a man turn his head,
pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind."

(Robert Zimmerman)

 

"Blowin' in the Wind"  Peter, Paul and Mary (version)

 

 

The roar of the Tigger

 "Only the weak are cruel. True gentleness can only be expected from the strong."

(Leo Buscaglia)

 

"Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength."

(St Francis de Sales) 

 

When I was a little girl, I decided I was going to be Tarzan's Jane in the jungle: the jungle in question clearly my parent's long, lawned back garden, complete with trees, swing, vegetable patch and Dad's mysterious homemade shed. Within a year or so, I decided the jungle was a bit tame and Tarzan probably a tad boring and made the career choice of Doctor Who's Assistant. And this was long before I became smitten with David Tennant (best Doctor Who ever).
Often easily thwarted by my own lack of self-confidence, I can be utterly fearless in situations larger than the petty scrutiny of appearance, background or what is appropriate behaviour or position. I have a friend who believes that most folk can be identified with the characters from "Winnie the Pooh" stories; recently, she announced that I was "definitely a bit Tigger". Apparently, the similarity has much to do with my energy and enthusiasm rather than my bottom being made out of springs... Although I do tend to bounce about a bit when I'm particularly excited or enthused by something. Like Tigger, I do have a tendency to climb up things with no real consideration for how (or capacity) to get down again. Also like Tigger, I can appear mindlessly courageous when I am actually most scared and simply wanting to be stroked and given a slice of treacle tart. His bravado is usually borne from loyalty and protectiveness rather than cussedness or aggression; I like Tigger.
I was actually born in the Chinese year of the Tiger, a favourite animal of mine. I love cats, and tigers are just whiskery, big pawed, stripey kittycats. But I also love their sinewy prowess and effortless, graceful strength; if only they could embrace vegetarianism. There's a palpable power in gracefulness, as there is an ingenuity in the most instinctive courage. Although the Sunday school meekness that will inherit the earth is often seen as interchangeable with gentleness, I've always felt that true gentleness can be as in-your-face as the loudest roar.
Someone in my neighbourhood is trying to push me around at the moment; attempted bullying, if you will. I find it upsetting, most simply because I've tried to help and support this person. I've tried to show them kindness and tolerance. I realise now that they've interpreted my own brand of gentleness as vulnerability and weakness, probably enabled by my stature, blondeness and penchant for floral frocks.
I don't like aggression and find slanging matches distasteful and wearying. On a rugby pitch, I would much prefer to deploy my dummy sidestep and sprint rather than throw myself headfirst into a tackle. In spite of any health glitches, I'm aware of and thankful for my physical strength; I could definitely kick-box my way out of a paper bag, but I would infinitelyy prefer to dance or cuddle.

 

 

 

Christians learn about God's "relentless" tenderness and mercy as an essence of our faith. Aside from organised religion, our greatest heroes of justice and righteousness, folk like Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi and most recently Nelson Mandela, have been staggering in their graciousness; their words of reconciliation resonate around the world and across class and culture. These people were natural leaders, defenders and champions; far from pushovers. Vociferously pacifist, they sadly also became threats to those whose insecurities fester on force, division and control.
Gentleness doesn't have to be meek; it's a bold, brave and sometimes isolating path to take through today's hyperactive, hyperbolic world. You have to be pretty tough to maintain your grace in the face of spite and injustice. It's very empowering to realise that refusing to claw your way up and over others has lifted you out of the fray. Personally, I believe that my God would want me to turn the other cheek, but still avoid being bitch-slapped in the first instance. I hope I'll always have enough self respect as well as compassion to refrain from back-biting and snarling; but the occasional roar from a lamb can confound the hungriest lion in the jungle.
If anyone from the BBC should ever stumble upon this blog, I would still like to be Doctor Who's Assistant. 

 

  
"When you encounter difficulties and contradictions, do not try to break them, but bend them with gentleness and time."

(St Francis de Sales)

 

  

"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a
listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all
of which have the potential to turn a life around."

(Leo Buscaglia) 

 

 

"Roar"  Katy Perry

 

 

A very special service

"Fear is the enemy of love."

(St Augustine)

"The world is full of people who have never, since childhood, met an open doorway with an open mind."

(E.B. White)

I really didn't want to go on Jury Service. I felt unprepared and ill equipped to formally "judge" others' actions or intent. Three weeks on and after a particularly harrowing case that reduced me to tears in court on more than one occasion, I feel privileged to have been randomly selected. I was fortunate to have been kept in a confined space without the usual diversions with eleven extremely conscientious and caring people. All cut from very different cloths, we wove ourselves together comfortably and seamlessly by the end of the trial. Faced with disturbing evidence and the raw emotion of some of the witnesses, my fellow jurors restored my belief that there are good people and true out there.
Obviously, I can't say much about the case and the private lives of those involved have already been ripped apart and raked through, however necessarily. Graphically evidenced for us; the terrible collision of lives bruised by lack of self worth and faith; the inexorable impact of an abuse of affection and a failure to protect innocence.
I've only had a couple of boyfriends in my whole life; it may be that I'm a singularly unappealing individual, but I prefer to think my single status is largely due to not wanting to compromise my values and beliefs. I've certainly preferred to wake alone on a cold winter's morning than to lie in fear for anyone or anything entrusted to me, whether that be a child, my sanity or my soul. There but for fortunate and grace, I guess.
Our jury, in equal numbers male and female, admitted to losing sleep during the trial and feeling deeply shaken after our verdict was given. We had become aware of the enormity of relatively small words such as reason and doubt. I think we all gained a new respect for the resolve of the judiciary and the resilience of the surrounding administration.
There was a child in this case who is, thank God, alive and safe. I feel profoundly changed by my experience, if only that I feel more securely me. I hope to stay in touch with a couple of the jurors and would be genuinely delighted to cross paths with any of them in the future. It occurs to me that "jury" can be a very special service. And yet still nothing compared to the beautiful and terrifying responsibility of parenting; at it's finest, a life sentence.

"Unloving"

(Carol Ann Duffy)

Learn from the winter trees, the way

they kiss and throw away their leaves,

then hold their stricken faces in their hands 

and turn to ice; 

or from the clocks, 

looking away, unloving light, the short days 

running out of things to say; a church, 

a ghost ship on a sea of dusk. 

Learn from a stone, its heart shape meaningless, 

perfect with relentless cold; or from the bigger moon, 

implacably dissolving in the sky, or from the stars,

lifeless as Latin verbs. 

Learn from the river, 

flowing always somewhere else, even its name,

change, change; learn from a rope 

hung from a branch like a noose, a crow cursing, 

a dead heron mourned by a congregation of flies. 

Learn from the dumbstruck garden, summer’s grave, 

where nothing grows, not a Beast’s rose; 

from the town veil of a web; 

from our daily bread: 

perpetual rain, nothing like tears, unloving clouds; 

language unloving love; even this stale air 

unloving all the spaces where you were.

"I think the thumb print on the throat of many people is childhood trauma that goes unprocessed and unrecognized." 

(Tom Hooper)

"Skinny Love" Birdy (version)

"And I told you to be patient 

and I told you to be fine; 

and I told you to be balanced 

and I told you to be kind; 

and if all your love is wasted 

then who the hell was I? 

Who will love you?

Who will fight? 

And who will fall far behind?" 

(From "Skinny Love", Justin Vernon)

"Childhood is a promise that is seldom kept."

(Ken Hill)

"What a piece of work is a man"

"So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

(Will Shakespeare)

Yesterday was of course St George's feast day, but also the birthday of William Shakespeare, playwright and love-poet extraordinaire We can't know for sure that Will was born on 23rd April: he was definitely baptised on 26th April 1564 and the ceremony would traditionally have taken place three or four days after birth. We know that he died on 23rd April 1616, and folklore holds that he died on his birthday, aged just fitly two years.
Will lived a great deal in that half century; he was a prolific writer and had something of a reputation as a philanderer as well. His work was well received and respected in his own lifetime, but it was in the nineteenth century that his popularity rose to lofty heights. His works have now been translated and performed in every major living language across the world and he's generally accepted as the greatest ever English writer. It seems highly fitting that the birthday of the nation's bard should fall on the same day as the feast of the patron saint.
If your only experience of Shakespeare is of cramming unappetising and dry chunks at school, uninspired by a bored supply teacher attempting drama by pitching their nasal drone slightly higher, do give him another go. My fondness for Shakespeare has grown and evolved since any formal English literature studies ended and as my adult life has unfolded. Amid any speculation about Will's personal life, his sexuality and promiscuity, his political leanings and religious beliefs (his mother, Mary Arden, was certainly a devout Catholic), there's much more to the excellent wordsmith than initially greets the schoolkid's reluctant eye.
Themes of passion and sensuality, loyalty and guilt, ambition and mercy, prejudice and reconciliation all shout, whisper or sing through his works. His wisdom is apparently borne of his own very human foibles; his wit holds the wry humour of one who recognises his foolishness. Aside from the beauty of some of the sonnets, there's a timeless relevance to "Romeo & Juliet", "Othello", "Richard III", "The Merchant of Venice", "Macbeth".... I was twelve years old when I first read "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and it still feels as magical to me today:"Look in the almanac; find out moonshine."

"What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god."

"No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: 

Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud." 

"Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war,

How to divide the conquest of thy sight." 

"He jests at scars, that never felt a wound." 

"What is your substance, whereof are you made, 

That millions of strange shadows on you tend?" 

"Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, 

Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,

Some in their garments though new-fangled ill; 

Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse." 

"Thy love is better than high birth to me." 

"All the world's a stage, 

And all the men and women merely players; 

They have their exits and their entrances; 

And one man in his time plays many parts." 

"The course of true love never did run smooth.” 

"Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires." 

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." 

"Expectation is the root of all heartache." 

"Love is not love 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove." 

"Nothing is so common as the desire to be remarkable." 

"Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger." 

"Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers." 

"If there is a good will, there is great way." 

"There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 

Rough-hew them how we will." 

"No sooner met but they looked; 

No sooner looked but they loved; 

No sooner loved but they sighed; 

No sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; 

No sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; 

And in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage." 

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd, 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 

Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; 

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes." 

"There is a tide in the affairs of men 

Which, taken at the flood, 

Leads on to fortune 

ommitted; 

All the voyage of their lives

Are bound in shallows and in miseries." 

"How far that little candle throws his beams! 

So shines a good deed in a weary world." 

"Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck; 

And yet methinks I have Astronomy." 

"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves." 

"God has given you one face, and you make yourself another." 

"Cowards die many times before their deaths; 

The valiant never taste of death but once." 

"Better three hours too soon than a minute too late."

"But Oh, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes." 

"We know what we are, but know not what we may be." 

"Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice." 

"One touch of nature makes the whole world kin." 

"I wasted time, and now doth time waste me." 

"My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy." 

"Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself." 

"Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered." 

"Neither a borrower nor a lender be." 

"I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed." 

"This above all; to thine own self be true." 

"Who will believe my verse in time to come, 

If it were filled with your most high deserts?"

"Everyday I Write the Book" Elvis Costello (acoustic)

"No legacy is so rich as honesty." 

(Will Shakespeare)

"Sweet moderation, desert us not" (Billy Bragg)

"No-one would remember the Good Samaritan if he'd only had good intentions; he had money as well."

"I owe nothing to Women's Lib."

(Margaret Thatcher)

Few people will probably be as divisive in death as in life as Baroness Margaret Hilda Thatcher. Aside from the rather beautifully staged pomp of her funeral at St Paul's Cathedral last week, her recent death has also sparked demonstrations and even some parties, from the former mining communities of the north, down to our very own economically challenged Brighton. The latter is of course infamous for all Thatcherites after the Provisional IRA bombed the Conservative Conference at the Brighton Grand Hotel in 1984.

I feel such "celebrations" are pointless as much as they are in poor taste: the woman has died; berating her "I'm alright Jack" attitude by parading and parodying it after her demise seems grossly hypocritical. But do I feel Margaret Thatcher should have had a ceremonial service with military honours, one step down from a full state funeral? Do I feel that those of us who pay our dues to this country and live increasingly hand-to-mouth should foot the estimated bill of £10 million? Hell no.

I can remember my Mum referring to "Thatcher the Milk Snatcher". Much has been made of Margaret's rise to become the first and still only woman prime minister of these lands. Yet her womanhood was as far removed from my ideals of the protection and equality of femininity as her historical female premiership was from my mother's long widowhood on a pension compromised by motherhood. Margaret Thatcher wasn't unduly bothered about lighting the way for other women: her cabinet was famously a "wimmin-free" zone.
I respect and accept that other members of my own family and some friends remain true-blue Thatcherites. Mine is the socialism of my Mum and Dad; a welfare state with the emphasis on a hand up rather than stop-gap handouts. A grocer's daughter from Grantham, Lincolnshire, she was fortunate enough to marry a rather wealthy man who cushioned her climb up the political ladder. She was a shop keeper's daughter who, sadly, seemed to forget the price of a loaf of bread. 
I'm in agreement with such diverse talking heads as Ken Livingstone, Geoffrey Roberston QC and Gorgeous George Galloway who attribute many of the UK's socio-economic problems today to the destruction of industry and financial de-regulation which featured so heavily in the Thatcher administration. Human rights lawyer Roberson has described the era as one of "unalloyed greed", sold on the huge deception that, pretty much left to their own devices, bankers would allocate resources rationally and for the general good. Thus began a decline in saving and investment and an accumulation of private and public sector debts; a path where the cracks would eventually creep all the way to the banking crisis of 2008. 

The destruction of manufacturing jobs was temporarily masked by opportunism and get-rich-quick schemes; skilled work gave way to a welfare "class"; house-building was usurped by estate agency. It appears to many of us that the policies of Cameron's government have a chillingly familiar ring to them, but there will be no bonanza of new oil to come to the government's rescue, or the country's. 

So clearly, not a fan of Margaret Thatcher then. I admit that I cringed once more when I saw the reportage of her quoting St Francis of Assisi's prayer for unity and harmony as she took office in 1979. But I was even more uncomfortable and very sad watching reports from former industrial communities in South Yorkshire and Scotland of jeering and mocked-up funeral pyres, toasting Maggie's decline in hell. Whilst I object to paying for a song and dance about the death of this elderly lady, I don't wish to see anyone jig on someone else's grave. Margaret Thatcher may not have been for turning, but her death from cardio-vascular distress and stroke, following treatment for bladder cancer and dementia, confirms that the baroness is definitely not returning.

The Dean of St Paul's Cathedral, the Very Reverend Dr David Ison, played a central role in last Tuesday's very public funeral. He took up the deanery at St Paul's after his predecessor resigned over the "Occupy London" protest furore, when anti-capitalist protesters camped outside the Cathedral, close to the Bank of England. Dr Ison has also linked Mrs Thatcher's policies with those of today's coalition. He told CNN International that: 

"You have to ask yourself the question: why it is, 23 years after she left government, Margaret Thatcher is still such a controversial figure and I think part of the answer is we still haven't come to terms with the hurt and anger many parts of society have felt because of the legacy of her policies. And there is some real work to be done here about the relationship between the rich and the poor in our society and how we can work together, instead of being opposed to one another. That's a particular agenda that I think that this funeral will be throwing up and highlighting."

I don't believe the gun carriage and the silencing of Big Ben were appropriate  but I do believe that respect and prayer for another person's passing are. May she rest in the peace we all eventually aspire to, no matter what our earthly advantages or failings. 

"Between the Wars" Billy Bragg

"I kept the faith and I kept voting, 

Not for the iron fist but for the helping hand; 

For theirs is a land with a wall around it 

And mine is a faith in my fellow man; 

Theirs is a land of hope and glory , 

Mine is the green field and the factory floor "

(Billy Bragg) 

"Make me a channel of your peace: 

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned, 

In giving of ourselves that we receive, 

And in dying that we are born to eternal life." 

(St Francis of Assisi) 

The Stranger at the door: for peace in Ireland

"Love is never defeated, and I could add, the history of Ireland proves it."

(Pope John Paul II)

"Hands Across the Divide", Maurice Harron's Peace Sculpture in Derry, N Ireland

At the close of St Patrick's Day, with no commentary on the whys or rights or wrongs behind the recent shock of violence in Northern Ireland, pray with palms upturned to the future; the lines you may find there, like the lines of the prayer included here, are themselves ancient but timeless.

If you really, truly want peace now and forever, never chart your future by looking back into the fray.

"You are the peace of all things calm, 

You are the place to hide from harm, 

You are the light that shines in dark, 

You are the heart's eternal spark, 

You are the door that's open wide, 

You are the guest who waits inside, 

You are the stranger at the door, 

You are the calling of the poor, 

You are my Lord and with me still, 

You are my love, keep me from ill, 

You are the light, the truth, the way, 

You are my Saviour this very day." 

(Old Irish prayer - Anon) 

"Be Thou My Vision" Van Morrison

"Peace is liberty in tranquility."

(Marcus Tullius Cicero)