This is an extract from ‘Memories of Margaret Thatcher: A portrait, by those who knew her best’, which is published tomorrow. Sir John Coles, the Prime Minister’s Private Secretary in the early 1980s, recounts his experience of the Iron Lady.
When my appointment as the Prime Minister’s Private Secretary for Foreign and Defence Affairs ended in June 1984, one of my first acts was to write this appreciation. I knew that when her political career came to an end there would be the usual plethora of biographies and analyses of her time in office. These have their own value, but I doubt if anyone is so well placed to describe her personality and behaviour as someone who, in the unique role of Private Secretary, was in daily contact with her for a lengthy period, who frequently spent several successive hours, whole days, whole weekends and even longer periods in well-nigh permanent contact with her. A further reason which induced me to put my impressions on paper was that in my period at Downing Street I was often dismayed by the inaccuracy of contemporary descriptions of her personality by journalists, by politicians, by my own acquaintances. What follows is what was written in 1984, bar a few insubstantial amendments.
I begin with physical attributes. When I began working for Margaret Thatcher, she was fifty-four years old. She was well-preserved and worked hard at her appearance. Slightly dumpy, smaller than the popular imagination would have it, she always took great trouble with her clothes, her hair and her makeup. These things influenced the prime ministerial schedule. Several days in each week began with a hair appointment. Lengthy sessions with her dressmaker were frequent, especially before extended foreign travel. The result was often spectacular.
I was reminded of the fact when I first met her. She visited Egypt in 1976 as Leader of the Opposition, arriving uncharacteristically late at a dinner given by the Egyptian Minister of Foreign Affairs. I with other guests had assembled in an anteroom awaiting her arrival. Eventually the doors were flung open and in she walked – blonde hair gleaming, wearing a gold brocade dress from neck to ankle. An Egyptian friend whispered in my ear, ‘She has left her crown behind.’
She always researched the likely background to her appearance. If the event was a TV interview or a major speech, she wished to know precisely what the physical arrangements were and, in particular, what the background colours would be. She chose her clothes accordingly. But other factors entered the calculation. When she was to host a large banquet at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing in 1983, she decided to appear in a brilliant scarlet dress – not, of course, as a sycophantic gesture to communist China but because she had been told that for the Chinese red signified happiness and that it would be an appropriate colour to wear at a celebratory occasion.
Her physical features were not particularly good, though her face had great mobility; it was capable of an almost spitting fierceness, a beatific calm, flirtatiousness and the deepest concentration. You learned to watch the mood.
When I first joined her staff, she displayed extraordinary energy, unlike any I have seen in man or woman before or since. Her working day began whenever she woke up. And since she was not a good sleeper, this was early. She might listen to the BBC World Service news at 5 a.m. She often then listened to Farming Today on the BBC. And from around 7 a.m. she would listen continually to the radio, working meanwhile on her boxes and taking telephone calls from political acquaintances who knew this was the best time of day to talk to her. A hair appointment might follow at 8 a.m. and at 9 a.m. the formal day began. More often than not the list of engagements would run through until 6 or 7 p.m. Evenings were often taken up with dinners or other engagements. When there was a gap, work would begin on boxes and could continue till midnight or beyond. If there was a major speech in the offing, it was not uncommon for her to work till 2 or 3 a.m. Most of the weekend was also spent working. In August she would take, typically, a ten-day holiday, often in Switzerland, and that was the only proper break in the whole year.
Why such application? It was the habit of a lifetime. She had been brought up to regard hard work as a virtue. Then, she always aimed high. A draft speech could always be improved by going through it again, changing a few words, clarifying the logic, finding a better quotation. Preparation for parliamentary appearances, especially Prime Minister’s Questions, could always be perfected by absorbing more information on the off-chance it might be useful. Ministerial meetings would be more likely to reach the right result if she was better prepared than her colleagues.
Then, she had few diversions on which to fall back. She had no interest in outdoor activities beyond a short walk. Her cultural interests were few – some liking for music and opera but little knowledge of, and no burning enthusiasm for, either; little feeling for art; little interest in literature except where this would illustrate a political point. Her main form of relaxation was political or economic discussion; she was often at her happiest with a whisky and soda in her hand and surrounded by half a dozen politicians, businessmen, bankers or economists, engaged in a lively argument.
During the period 1983–84 a decline in her energy became apparent. I date it from her successful re-election in June 1983. Some of us noticed that it was not quite the same Margaret Thatcher who returned to No. 10. For a time this could be attributed to an eye complaint which gave her much trouble that summer. But when that was behind her, she was still not the person of old. It became much rarer for her to work after midnight, much rarer for her to keep dinner party guests back for discussion into the small hours. Speeches which in the earlier period would have kept her staff up until 2 a.m. were dispatched with much less time and energy. Why? Partly, I think, because the exertions of 1979–82 had begun to take their toll on a woman who was not young. The three-month Falklands campaign, from April to June 1982, with all the terrible responsibilities and anxieties it brought, would have been enough seriously to affect the performance of any Prime Minister. Small wonder that it left its mark on her. Possibly, also, the very fact of being re-elected was not without its influence. For many Prime Ministers it is a sufficient ambition, having been elected once, to lead your party to triumph a second time. I recall my surprise when she said to me, just two or three days after the Conservative victory of June 1983, ‘I have not long to go.’ For someone who had just won a majority of 144 seats, this was a remarkable statement. When I queried it, she said, ‘My party won’t want me to lead them into the next election – and I don’t blame them.’
‘Memories of Margaret Thatcher – A portrait, by those who knew her best’, edited by Iain Dale, is published by Biteback, £14.99.
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