Simon Heffer: You Had to Be There to Grasp the Scale of Margaret Thatcher's Revolution
THE TELEGRAPH: As a first-time voter in 1979, Simon Heffer recalls the euphoria that greeted a new dawn for Britain.

Margaret Thatcher brought the country back to life in 1979. Photo: Google Images
We are victims of our upbringing. Anyone coming to political consciousness as I did in the 1970s will understand why Mrs Thatcher happened, whether we support what she did or not. I have always struggled to see what there was not to support. The country in which I spent my teens was a catastrophe. Socialists of all stamps – and I mean Heath as well as Callaghan and Wilson – had impoverished it and stunted the ambition of our people. When I hear those in their 20s or early 30s trot out the received line on the person they call "Thatcher", I think: if you were not there, and you have not taken the trouble to explore in depth what life was like for those of us who were, you cannot properly understand.

The six or seven years before she won her revolutionary victory in May 1979 formed a litany of failure and embarrassment. Once Heath lost control of the economy, after he allowed the money supply to grow at 30 per cent in 1972-73 (with the predictable 27 per cent inflation by 1975), only a revolution was going to solve the problem. Heath went out in March 1974 sounding the note that would resound through Britain for the following five years: that elected government, having forced a confrontation with the largely undemocratic forces of trades unionism, would (pending further developments) always take second place to it. It was that even more than the inflation that brought Britain to its knees two-and-a-half years into Labour's rule. >>> By Simon Heffer | Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Margaret Thatcher's Revolution 30 Years On
THE TELEGRAPH: Her successors ruined the prosperous Britain she created. Now we must strive to re-build it, says Edwina Currie.

We should value Margaret Thatcher for what she did, not what she was. Photo courtesy of The Telegraph
She was a small, pretty woman with chintzy blouses and a nervous habit of clearing her throat. A stiff leather handbag hung like a weapon over her arm; if a wisp of hair escaped from the helmet of her coiffure, she fiddled with it anxiously. In mid-campaign, she was given a grubby calf to hold and didn't know what to do with it. Our first views of Margaret Thatcher weren't reassuring.

Yet it was la difference that underwrote her astonishing success. The unthinkable – a woman prime minister – had been made flesh. Suddenly anything seemed possible. I was a city councillor in Birmingham with two small children. I knew, with total certainty, that if she could do it, then so could I.

Mrs Thatcher learnt very quickly to turn her outsider status to advantage. Declaring that she didn't know much about economics but did understand a household budget was an election strategy of genius. It allied her with the victims of strikes and disruption, those who had to make ends meet, the "hard-working families" of modern parlance who had to put aside doubts if they were to vote for her. However bizarre it may seem to have a woman in charge, they reasoned, she talked sense and should be given a chance: she couldn't be worse than the men.

Within her first term the doubts vanished. The Iron Lady had seen off Galtieri and was preparing the same treatment for Scargill, so all one had to do was sound rather like her. I sailed into Parliament at my first attempt in 1983, one of 397 Tory MPs (some 200 more than now). It was not really a surprise to find myself the first maiden speaker of the new intake, treated as a representative of a new breed, and soon a minister.

It was a fantastic and terrifying experience. Come to a meeting not properly briefed and you'd be mincemeat, and rightly so. Get something right and she would praise you embarrassingly in public. With a blue-eyed stare that could turn men to stone, she would snap out orders and expect them delivered. Once, in a cold spell in January 1987, she insisted that no vagrant was to be found frozen to the pavements and I was given the job. We managed it, with the help of the charities and an open purse, a now-forgotten episode entirely to her credit; the Rough Sleepers initiative was the outcome. No inquiries, no reviews, no soundbites, no pointless legislation: just get on and do it. >>> Edwina Currie | Sunday, April 26, 2009