It’s been a strange day today in the UK, with all the pomp and ceremony of the funeral of Margaret Thatcher going on. The last time we saw a funeral on this scale it was for the Queen Mother (and before that of course Diana), but this seems very different. There are no public outpourings of grief, although there is no shortage of vitriol being outpoured by some people. This is because of the massive divide in opinion between people who thought Thatcher did ‘what was necessary’ to pull Britain out of economic decline in the 1980s, and the other people who feel she ruined their lives.

I don’t really fall into either camp. I’m definitely one of Thatcher’s children. I was only 5 when she became Prime Minister and she stayed in power until I was 16, so to me she seemed like a formidable Head Mistress of the country who wore an awful lot of Royal Blue. Oh, and of course she stole my milk…

In truth my enduring memories of Margaret Thatcher were her Spitting Image puppet, miners strikes and the poll tax riots on the telly and the way she broke down when she was ousted as PM, but I guess as a typical teenager I didn’t take much notice of politics.

The vintage top I’m wearing is very much ‘Thatcher blue’, so I thought today would be an appropriate day to wear it…