Mothers and Ann Widdecombe -
Isle of Thanet Gazette 10th March 2006
It was International Women's Day this week and a good cue for my mother and I to have our bi-annual debate about Margaret Thatcher. This is a spirited exchange that we both enjoy, in which I say that even if I never agreed with a single thing our first female PM did, you have to admire her for getting where she got, and my mother says: what about stopping the schoolchildren's milk? I reply that that was what endeared her to me in the first place (I have always viewed the white stuff with fear and loathing) and how about the fact that she ran the country on only four hours sleep? At which point, my mother bangs her glass about a bit and says rather testily: "perhaps if she'd had a bit more sleep, she'd have shown more compassion" and I go back to the beginning and start again. This year, we had the added bonus of the news that Ann Widdecombe was coming to St Andrew's Church in Reading Street. I immediately became excited as I adore her. My mother was sniffy as she feels much about Ms Widdecombe as she does about Mrs T. But as far as I'm concerned, Ann Widdecombe is an abiding constant in an uncertain world. It has nothing to do with her politics and everything to do with the staunch conviction she exudes. Can you ever imagine Ann Widdecombe saying "I'm not really sure," or "I haven't thought about that"? My mother does not see this as a plus point; I find it reassuring. I particularly like AW when she's making mincemeat of interviewers with her total disregard for whatever the question was, or explaining her relationship with God. I do not go to Church very often myself but I like other people to. When I do turn up, I find it all very soothing and the thought of my heroine in the pulpit was too much to resist. My mother, after huffing a bit, said she'd come too. So along we went and I was entranced. Christianity, Ann said, was about absolutes, Politics (somewhat surprisingly) was about compromise. She gave examples, provided anecdotes and was very witty about the differentiation between Socialism and New Labour. At the end, I found myself unusually tongue-tied. I am not normally slow at coming forward with the well-known - I actually leapt to my feet and kissed Michael Parkinson when I saw him in a restaurant once (he looked suitably terrified) - but I could not bring myself to do any more than shake Ms Widdecombe's hand and gush that I had enjoyed her. "How kind of you to say so," she replied. In the car, my mother agreed Ann had been a very good speaker, "softer" than she'd imagined and "very reasonable." She would not, however, budge on Maggie. "There are plenty of other women," she said fiercely , as I dropped her off, "that do extraordinary things and on no money. Do you want to come in for a glass of wine?"
No, I said, I did not, for it was only lunchtime and I had much to do. A sherry instead? she offered. All of which goes to show that it is not only Christianity that is about absolutes, and mothers - even extraordinary ones - know how to compromise too...
No, I said, I did not, for it was only lunchtime and I had much to do. A sherry instead? she offered. All of which goes to show that it is not only Christianity that is about absolutes, and mothers - even extraordinary ones - know how to compromise too...