Young Margaret

And I would just like to remember some words of St Francis

of Assisi, which I think are really just particularly apt at the moment.

Where there is discord, may we bring harmony.

Where there is error, may we bring truth.

Where there is doubt, may we bring faith...

Margaret Thatcher, Britain's first woman Prime Minister.

Strong, strident, confident.

She seemed to relish a rather male image of herself.

Fixed, rigid, unbending.

'The lady's not for turning.'

'..rejoice at that news,

'and congratulate our forces and the Marines.'

But there is another side to the Iron Lady, another story to be told.

'Dear Muriel. I decided to buy a really nice undie set

'to go under my turquoise chiffon blouse...'

'..can you recommend any exercises,

'or anything from the medical point of view, particularly for

'reduction of the area of the seat, and control of the tummy muscles?'

'Oh, and also reductions and uplift of the bust?'

A remarkable correspondence has come to light

between Margaret Thatcher and her older sister, Muriel.

The letters date from Margaret's childhood,

and run until her early days in power.

Intimate, unguarded, they reveal a complex early love life.

'He drove me home in his present, rather old car,

'and got quite ardent on the way.'

I think she regarded herself, rightly,

as not having a fantastic body as such.

We would have what I would describe as a modest

amount of amorosity.

'He's about 26, and very nice...'

She was very good-looking, and my memory was she danced very well.

The letters upset popular mythologies about Margaret.

Her husband Denis, for example.

'I can't say I ever really enjoy going out for the evening with him.'

'He has not got a very prepossessing personality.'

And her relationship with her father, Alf.

'Re. Pop. He is eating the most enormous meals,

'and doing absolutely nothing...'

'..I should, however, set a deadline to take him home as soon as he comes

'to you, otherwise he will just hang on and on and not take any hints.'

Margaret's letters allow a glimpse into the private life

of this most public of women.

They shed new light on the transformation

of the very ordinary Margaret Hilda Roberts

into the very extraordinary Margaret Hilda Thatcher.

'Tony hired a car and we drove out to Abingdon to the country inn

'Crown and Thistle.'

'I managed to borrow a glorious royal blue velvet cloak,

'which matched the blue frock perfectly.'

"Tony had a spray of eight orchids sent for me from London,

"so with the front part of my hair piled up on top,

"Jean and Mary said I looked simply smashing."

"I felt absolutely on top of the world as we walked through

"the lounge at the Crown and Thistle,

"and everyone looked up and stared."

When Mrs Thatcher asked me to write the book,

obviously one of the most exciting things

which only I would have

is anything within the family,

pretty much none of which had come to light before,

and so it was natural for me, first of all, after speaking to

Mrs Thatcher and Denis, to go to Mrs Thatcher's sister, Muriel.

In the course of our conversation,

it became clear that she had a lot of letters from Margaret.

They're unsorted.

I assume, therefore, not censored,

and I think Margaret's pretty honest in these letters.

For example,

when she talks about everything to do with boyfriends and love,

this is not exposing her innermost soul, but I think it's honest.

I think it's telling Muriel accurately how she sees it,

what she believes has happened, what the problems are,

and how she's trying to deal with it.

"We went into the bar and had a gin and grapefruit,

"and then to the dining room for dinner."

'We had some lovely thick, creamy soup, followed by pigeon,

'and then a chocolate sweet.'

'With that, we had Moussec to drink.'

'Moussec, in case you don't know, is a sparkling champagne.'

She had a strong relationship with her sister, a happy relationship.

And I was always aware when she, my aunt Muriel,

had been in touch with my mother.

Generally it was in times of political difficulty.

That was when you could be sure that a phone call would come

through saying, "How are you? Everything OK?"

"Fine."

Muriel was four years older than Margaret, and her only sibling.

A feisty, strong-willed woman, not unlike her famous sister

in character, her life was far removed from that of Margaret.

For 46 years, she lived here on this farm in Essex, where she

devoted herself to raising her three children with her husband, Willie.

When Muriel died, her collection of letters from her sister

passed to her son, Margaret's nephew, Andrew.

We've got quite a lot of very nice things from the family.

My mother, unlike Auntie Margaret, was a great hoarder.

We have most of her letters from Margaret

and from Grandpa to my mother.

I would say they were very close as sisters, yes.

Even though they were several years apart, you see,

which one would have thought would have made a bigger difference,

especially back in those days, but they, although they were

brought up as an austere family, they were a close-knit family.

People often say to me, "Well, what's she like?"

And I say, "What's YOUR auntie like? She's just like your auntie."

She was just an ordinary aunt.

She always remembered our birthdays and Christmas.

She is normal, nearly.

'Dear Muriel. I got Daddy's present for me last Saturday.

'He asked me what I would like, so I said a powder bowl.

'He gave me a pound to go and get one,

'telling me to bring back the change.

'Got a nice one from Miss Griffin's for ten shillings.

'It was very plain,

'just ordinary glass with a little gold paint around the top.'

This is Grantham, where Margaret and Muriel were born

and spent their childhood.

It's a small town in Lincolnshire, built on the A1.

A place travelled through as much as a destination in its own right.

The cornerstone of the girls' lives was the family's grocer shop,

where they lived with their parents, Alf and Beatrice.

The shop was a quality shop situated on a corner,

positioned between the richer and poorer districts of Grantham,

much like the family itself.

Today, only a small plaque high on the wall

records the significant birth that took place here in 1925.

High enough, as one local put it, not to be peed on.

But Margaret was the product of a time as well as a place.

She was just 13 years old when the Second World War broke out.

AIR RAID SIRENS

The Second World War was a vivid reality in Grantham.

Being on the main railway line to Scotland and having

a munitions factory, it was a regular target for German bombers.

Inevitably, as for many of Margaret's generation,

the war left an indelible mark on her.

I'm told that Mum was studying for her exams under the dining

room table in Grantham, which was an area which was extraordinarily

active during the war.

And so the era of her teenage years and her formative years after that

were just so completely different from ours.

For much of the war,

Margaret's sister Muriel was away studying physiotherapy

in Birmingham, leaving Margaret as effectively an only child.

It was around this time that Margaret's letters

to her sister began.

They were, surprisingly, never about the terrors

and disruption of war, but about everyday school life.

They are full of personal triumphs,

often highlighted by comments about lesser-achieving classmates.

'Dear Muriel. Here are my school certificate results in detail

'which we got on Thursday morning.

'English Language, C.

'English Literature, C.

'General Literature, C.

'There were rather a lot of failures this year,

'probably due to having Camden with us for five terms.

'General Literature, C.

'History, C.

'Biology, C.

'French, C.'

Margaret's letters expect Muriel to be interested in the minutiae

of her achievements, and she's quick to criticise.

One poor gym mistress, for example, is...

'An awful old irritable thing.

'She had a spotty complexion, lank, greasy hair, Eton-cropped,

'wore glasses and dowdy clothes.'

Encouraged by her father, Margaret was a bright, hard-working, serious

girl, who'd won a scholarship to Kesteven and Grantham Girls' School,

where she was to become a prefect, and eventually head girl.

Sometimes she'd line us up for dinner,

and sometimes she'd take us for prep.

She'd sit at the teacher's desk and do her work,

and we'd all sit there and do our homework,

and we never, in fact, played her up,

and even though we used to chat a lot, we actually didn't with her,

and she did have this sort of aura that we just daren't do it, I think.

She had this incredible air of self-possession.

That's very rare, I think.

She was quite a matronly figure.

She had a bust, which I didn't have.

It didn't clock in until many years after!

She had her hair permed, and it was brown, by the way, light brown.

Not blonde.

And she was perfect with her school uniform.

And generally, I was in awe of her.

I was really impressed by this girl, and I never forgot her.

Margaret took her prefect responsibilities seriously,

and reported, somewhat witheringly, the performances of her charges.

There is a sense that the world might just stop turning

if she wasn't at the helm.

'Posters had to be made to draw people's attention

'to the fact that they simply must go to room seven.

'On Thursday evening, I had to sit down and do them myself.

'I also had to run around, providing the material for the competitions.

'The youngsters are very enthusiastic,

'but not very ready to do a lot.'

You learn many things, of course, about Margaret through the letters.

You learn, of course, which is no surprise,

that she's hard-working and competitive.

She notices how other people are doing in the class,

what her own results are in exams, which she'll give at some length.

She always monitors her own achievements.

What she doesn't do, however, is introvert.

She doesn't look in upon herself.

It's absolutely unthinkable with her that she'd say what

so many teenagers or young people would say.

"Where's my life going?"

"What am I doing? Why am I on this earth at all?"

Nothing like that.

Of all the potential influences that shaped the young Margaret

into such a serious young girl,

it was perhaps her father who made the greatest impact.

Alf Roberts was a self-taught, self-made man,

whose grocer shop was a monument to the sort of personal enterprise

and self-improvement that Margaret championed throughout her career.

A strong moral code hung over the Roberts household,

and coloured everything they did.

It was rooted in the Methodism that was the spine of the family's life.

Margaret's father, Alf, was a lay preacher,

and on Sunday it was chapel three times a day.

It was here that Margaret listened to her father's sermons.

Grandpa wasn't a great deal of fun.

I think, probably, I was a wild, dirty farm boy,

as far as he was concerned,

and I think I said something pretty frivolous in front of him once,

and I certainly got reprimanded fairly heavily for it.

Mr Roberts would not have any Sunday newspapers in the house,

believing that it was anti-Christ or anti-God to read frivolous stuff,

such as it was in those days, on Sunday.

Well, that's pretty archaic, isn't it?

By present-day standards!

Alf's Methodism was all or nothing.

He had no truck with other denominations, especially -

horror of horrors - Catholicism, as he made clear in a letter to Muriel.

'Dear Muriel,

'I have been very worried about Margaret this last few days,

'about her always having Mary with her wherever she goes, and

'wondering if Mary was doing a lot of Catholic propaganda with Margaret.

'I have written to Margaret about it, as I should be grieved

'beyond measure if the Roman Catholics got hold of her.

'She would no longer be free. They might cause untold family misery.'

Alf's agonies about the lure of Rome were unfounded.

In fact, throughout her life,

Margaret drifted between Methodism and Anglicanism.

But in essence, she was Methodist to the core.

Mother was a woman of considerable faith.

It was an important component or adjunct in her

feelings of self-reliance, duty and responsibility,

but also her faith gave her a sense of Samaritanesque

attitude as well, in which, yes, there needs to be,

there must be, necessarily be an element of charity,

assistance and help to others.

But as she always used to say,

even the Good Samaritan needed money to do it.

Alf Roberts devoted himself to the task of giving his daughters

more than he had had himself.

But in later life, he told Muriel that he felt

some of his sacrifices went unappreciated by Margaret.

In a letter to Muriel, he said...

'Margaret has been very hard at times,

'and apparently ungrateful for all I've done, although that hasn't,

'and wouldn't stop me from doing all I could for either of you.

'But truthfully, it has kept me poor.'

Alongside religion,

the overriding preoccupation of the Roberts household was politics.

Alf Roberts was a committed town councillor.

When he wasn't in the pulpit, he was busy doing good for Grantham.

He became Mayor, and was eventually awarded the title of Alderman.

For Margaret, politics was on the menu every day.

At home, above the Roberts' shop, the affairs of the day were

picked over, debated around the kitchen table.

But Margaret's childhood was not all serious debate and religion.

She was not all work and no play.

Margaret's letters show that she was a young

woman like any other, with familiar passions.

Clothes, meetings with girlfriends, and a favourite pastime,

trips to the local State Cinema.

'Dear Muriel. Quiet Weekend is here this week,

'and two other girls and I went to see it on Monday.'

'It's an absolute scream. I laughed more than I have for months.'

'I wish you'd seen it.'

We're not going to let a ruddy policeman stop us!

'Earlier in the week, Tuesday, to be precise,

'I went to see Love On The Dole with Mummy.

'But I can't say that I enjoyed it, although it was a good film.'

Margaret loved the cinema,

and it was the American films that really caught her imagination.

We had a cinema called the State, and of course

we had American films, and they really were our window on the world.

And I think this must have impressed Margaret. It certainly did me.

Those accents, and they were heroes on the screen.

In 1943, the heroes came to Grantham.

The American Air Force established bases in the area.

For the young ladies of Grantham,

the Americans were manna from Heaven.

And for Margaret,

it was the beginning of an enduring love for all things transatlantic.

She really liked all that, and she liked that culture,

and she very much admired the American military,

and she always felt at home with them.

I think, therefore,

the coming of Ronald Reagan as President of the United States

fitted very well with all of that,

because she'd seen him in some films,

she knew who he was because of that, he's of that generation.

Didn't fight in the war, actually,

but she has an immediate sympathy with a man who looks like that,

because appearance is always very important.

Tall, genial, very American American,

who was always very courtly to her,

and this was just a whole set of things that made her feel at home.

The Americans became notorious in Grantham.

They organised jives at the airbases.

But Margaret's letters don't record whether she joined in.

Most likely not.

Her restrictive parents kept her on a tight lead.

Indeed, there were almost certainly no boyfriends

in Margaret's life during her Grantham years.

But she was always well turned out,

and aware of the impact she made on others, men included.

And when, towards the end of the war,

she started going to more sedate local dances,

she was often the target of eager suitors,

such as a man she met at a Christmas dance in nearby Corby.

'He was, I gather, a rather famous football referee,

'for he has done, at any rate, one, if not more cup finals.'

'He is about 35, I should say.'

'He wanted me to go to the pictures with him.'

'I don't want to go around with a man of his age,

'and when I vaguely mentioned the fact at home, Daddy said,

'"No, of course you won't", in a very final tone.'

In fact, Margaret always had a taste for the company of older men,

whatever her father Alf's protestations.

But although much is made of her relationship with her father,

far less is said or known about Mrs Roberts.

Grandma was just a quiet,

very supportive person in the background, really.

Yeah.

Very much her husband's second fiddle, rather than a noisy type.

Beatrice Roberts came into her husband's life through Methodism,

and was the daughter of a cloakroom attendant at Grantham Station.

A seamstress, she was neat and tidy as a tailor's pattern.

Margaret's letters to her sister suggest that Beatrice,

far from being a non-figure in her life, a quiet absence,

had a sort of censoring presence, a drain of the spirit.

'I have decided that maroon would be the best colour for my wardrobe,

'as I am having that pinky dress made up.'

'I haven't told Mummy and Daddy about it,

'as I am sure that Mummy at any rate, would find it very extravagant.'

Muriel candidly described her mother as a bigoted Methodist,

and admitted the two girls were not close to her.

Indeed, a footnote in a letter from Margaret to Muriel shows how the

distance between the girls and their mother was even of concern to Alf.

'PS. Daddy did wish you would find a nice fellow,

'as if anything happened to him, you wouldn't get on with Mummy,

'and so wouldn't have a home unless married.

'He said this was his biggest worry at the moment.'

Mrs Thatcher didn't like talking about her mother,

because I think it was hard for her to combine two things

which she genuinely felt.

One was respect and affection, and the other was this boredom, really.

And a bit of guilt, as well,

because she never actually had an engagement with her mother,

and had interesting conversations with her, and enjoyed her company.

But her mother was actually, I think, a strong character,

and also had this aspect of domestic life which Margaret

does like very much, which is this neatness, cleanness and skill,

particularly because she was a seamstress,

and it's one thing that Margaret would go back to again

and again in conversation, her mother's skill as a seamstress.

'Has Mummy started my blue slip and panties, do you know?

'If she is going to do the panties, I would like them in the style

'we did the parachute ones, cut on the cross from a small yoke.'

My mother, something which is not necessarily known about her,

she was extremely good with her hands,

and it would be nothing for her to repair curtains,

or even make them herself if she had the time to do so.

I certainly remember, on a couple of occasions,

she turned her hand to that, and quite successfully, so from that

perspective, there was an element of self-reliance, if you will.

Thrift, I think, would be the word that comes to mind,

and certainly, I think that applied to everything that she did.

'I seem to have a colossal amount of mending to do.

'All coat linings seem suddenly to have gone, and stockings,

'they are rapidly disappearing into thin air.'

Self-reliance, hard work, drive.

These were characteristics of the young Margaret, and aged just 16,

she'd already formed a confident vision of her future.

'Dear Muriel. Daddy does not like the idea of medical at all,

'but I am taking biology, chemistry and maths main, with French subsid.'

'The next idea on the list is to go to university

'and take a science degree,

'then sit for a civil service exam for posts abroad.

'A degree is necessary for this for a woman.'

I think this is a much more modern desk.

I think these were new in my time. I think those were the old ones.

Those are the very old ones.

Margaret's drive and ambition

and stamina for hard work brought her academic success.

She appreciated her school and its role in her triumphs,

and when she accepted a peerage,

it was the name of the school that she took.

Baroness Thatcher of Kesteven.

Not the name of her hometown, Grantham.

Indeed, by the age of 18, Grantham was pretty much done for her.

She had won a place to study chemistry at Oxford University.

ARCHIVE: 'For more than 700 years,

'Oxford has flourished as a centre for learning and culture.'

'Through calm and storm, Triumph and disaster,

'it has grown in greatness of knowledge, making a continuous

'contribution to the civilisation of the Western world.'

My father, I think,

was college or university material that couldn't go,

and therefore he was desperately anxious that I should have

every opportunity to go, and although he wasn't wealthy, I well remember

when it came to the fact that I wanted to go to Oxford,

and you had to have Latin to go to Oxford,

and my school hadn't provided Latin in the curriculum.

Nevertheless, he sacrificed enough to have me

taught Latin by the local grammar school teacher, and I did it.

He was desperately anxious to give me

every chance that he hadn't had, and I owe almost everything to this.

'Women, too, have their place at Oxford,

'sharing equal opportunities with the men.'

'They can prepare for careers in medicine, biology, law, and a dozen

'other spheres which, not many years ago, were closed to them.'

I think she had very good memories of Oxford.

It provided an exciting crucible for many of the aspects of her

life which were particularly important.

Rigorous, intellectual examination, as well as industrious learning,

and exciting and profound debate on all elements of university life,

including the political component.

Margaret took up a place at Somerville College,

and found it, just like Grantham, altered by the war.

The college buildings were, of course, all blacked out.

There were battle walls in front of the library

and some of the other buildings.

There were static water tanks in the gardens.

There was one there, in front of the chapel,

and one in the east quadrangle.

And the students themselves were expected to take

part in various forms of war service in their spare time.

Hoeing for victory on the lawn.

The favourite one, in which Margaret Roberts engaged,

was entertaining American servicemen.

But from Margaret's point of view,

although she went to Oxford with two Grantham friends, she admitted

in her memoirs that she found the place cold and strangely forbidding.

She says she went for walks alone around Christchurch Meadow,

and into Addison's Walk in Magdalen.

'Dear Muriel. I washed and went into dinner at 7.15,

'expecting to see a number of people there.'

'But found to my dismay

that I was the only person that had yet arrived.'

'So I had dinner in a solitary state, alone in that immense hall.'

Oxford was a very different world to provincial Grantham,

and one in which Margaret struggled to find her place.

She was now one amongst many high achieving young women,

no longer at the top of the academic tree.

The Somerville hall was a lovely hall,

but it was set out with the high table, as always, at one end,

and then the rest of the hall was three tables in the long row,

and the top table tended to be the more exotic girls,

reading perhaps PPE, and the bottom table, I'm afraid,

we thought were bit of a snooty lot, was Roedean and Cheltenham Ladies'

and Downe House in the bottom lot.

And Margaret, of course, came from an ordinary grammar school.

I don't think she'd have lasted for a minute, actually,

in either the first table at the top for talk, or the bottom,

who were the real people with the real accents.

I can remember her saying to me once in Oxford days

in her new, refined sort of voice,

"Margaret, don't you wish,

"when you're asked where you went to school,

"and you wish, don't you,

"that you could say Cheltenham Ladies' College,

"instead of Kesteven and Grantham Girls' School?"

It was difficult with Margaret,

because she was always a rather aloof person.

She didn't easily unbend.

I think there was always a degree of difficulty about her

communications with the rest of us.

One got that impression with Margaret that she wasn't

a real person.

I don't think she was very good at making friends, girlfriends, ever.

Right through her life. Not many.

If Somerville failed to provide Margaret with friendships,

perhaps it was in part

because it was considered an overwhelmingly left-wing college.

Hardly a marriage made in Heaven.

But just along the road was the antidote.

The Taylorian Institute.

Meeting place of the University's Conservative Association.

The association would gather there

and often dine opposite in the rather grand Randolph Hotel.

Smart places, both of them, and a long way from Grantham.

Margaret signed up enthusiastically, and the Oxford University

Conservative Association, or OUCA, became her home.

'Dear Muriel. As regards Conservative activities this term,

'I gave my paper on agricultural policy,

'which was a staggering success.'

'Also, I went to a number of Conservative study groups, as well

'as the regular meetings on Friday nights and committee meetings etc.'

We were joined by this delightful, very active girl,

who knew exactly what she was doing, and she was very focused,

and she knew her politics inside out.

Whereas we were rather thrashing around.

Everybody, of course, was tuned into politics already,

but the rest of us were complete beginners,

and learning as we went along.

But Margaret really knew what she was doing, and was totally focused.

Oxford brought Margaret face-to-face with the country's aristocracy,

many of whom shared her Conservatism.

She got on easily with them.

So much so, that when the Duke of Buccleuch became aware that

Margaret had financial difficulties, he organised a whip round

and bought her a bicycle.

She was very active, and actually distributed our leaflets.

She'd go off on her bicycle with her basket,

and go to the sort of places you wouldn't dare go to nowadays.

You wouldn't let your daughter disappear into the dark alleyways

of factories and other places.

Anyhow, she went off, as brave as could be.

But more than just the chance to hobnob with the odd duke, the

University Conservative Association opened up social life for Margaret.

'The Conservative dinner was on 24 February.

'The committee guests and speakers had a sherry party

'in the Randolph beforehand,

'and then we went into dinner at seven o'clock.'

We had meetings, we had government ministers who came, and we

had the normal pattern of dinner, which the chairman, the president

would be host, with a visiting cabinet minister

or whoever on their right.

And the committee ranged round, all paid for.

I thought it was a perfectly good dinner.

For Margaret, these events were a chance to dress up,

to make the most of her wardrobe, to look her best.

To enjoy the bling.

'Dear Muriel. SOS.

'Could I borrow your pearls for the first of three meetings

'when I shall be wearing black?

'My black two-piece for the first and third,

'and your black dinner frock for the second, if you would send it.

'But the most important thing is the pearls, which have to be

'sent off straight away if they are to reach me by Friday.'

I wear them,

not only because pearls have been the thing

for English women for years, but they have a sort of luminescence

about them, and particularly pearl earrings,

and they do just give your face a little lift.

Margaret retained a fastidiousness about her appearance

throughout her life, and an almost forensic ability to recall

what she'd worn on any particular occasion.

I stand before you tonight in my Red Star chiffon evening gown...

Lady Thatcher always loved clothes, and she loved good fabrics.

Her mother was a dressmaker,

so she saw a lot of very nice clothes coming in and out of the

house in Grantham, and the mother made a lot of the girls' clothes.

She had a sister, Muriel.

And she knew about hemming and seaming, and all sorts of things.

And a thing we've learned is never really press your hem.

You know, sometimes you see people ironing a dress,

and they press along the hem until it looks like a knife edge.

And then if you want to let it down, you can't.

Just leave the hem gently rolled.

But never press along the edge.

When she visited one of our nuclear submarines in Faslane,

I recall that a message was delivered that please would

she be sure and wear trousers, which created no small problem,

because I don't think my mother ever owned a pair of trousers up

to that point in her life.

It's not my job to be a fashion leader,

but it is my job not to be obviously out of fashion,

or obviously wrongly dressed, and I must never be mutton dressed as lamb.

Never.

At Oxford, Margaret constantly worried about her weight

and her appearance, the concerns of any young woman.

'Dear Muriel,

'Can you recommend any exercises or anything from the medical

'point of view, particularly for reduction of the area of the seat

'and control of the tummy muscles?

'Oh, and also reductions and uplift of the bust.'

It was important for Margaret to look good, as she was now,

for the first time in her life, moving in a world of men.

And in the spring of her second year, her fellow students got

a sense that something new had come into her life.

Well, it just became known that Margaret had got a boyfriend called

Lord Tony, and we used to tease her a bit about Lord Tony.

And she would blush from bottom to top,

and just not really cope with it.

'Dear Muriel,

'Tony had a spray of eight orchids sent for me from London,

'so with the front part of my hair piled up on top,

'Jean and Mary said I looked simply smashing.'

Margaret had come with a carnation given to her by a chap,

and none of us can remember who it was.

Needless to say, everybody wants to know who that chap was.

I can't remember.

That chap was Tony Bray. And he wasn't a Lord.

He was an Army cadet who had arrived at Brasenose College in Oxford

a year after Margaret on a six-month Joint Services course.

In the autumn of 2007,

Tony Bray was living as a widower in a small house in Sussex.

That's more what I would recognise.

That I would totally recognise.

That's a nice one of her.

That is a typical Margaret expression,

which she wore more or less continuously.

That was the face that she put on everything.

I think she regarded me as somebody who was just simplistically

'not just a schoolboy', if you follow what I mean.

There were a lot of exciting schoolboys who were,

I'm sure, more handsome than I was, taller, whatever.

More flamboyant or whatever you like.

But that wouldn't go with her character, I don't think,

so I think this would be what would have attracted her.

And we saw a lot of each other.

I mean, we would see each other in our spare time.

And, for the most part, just sort of talking about current affairs.

What was going on, you know.

Politics, up to a point, but particularly, really,

the war and the situation of the war and our own hopes afterwards.

I think we were both interested in being with each other.

I think she was quite fond of me.

'Tony hired a car

'and we drove out to Abingdon to the country inn Crown and Thistle.

'I managed to borrow a glorious royal blue velvet cloak

'which matched the blue frock perfectly.'

She looked absolutely terrific.

She was wearing a large blue cloak.

I believe the dress underneath it was also blue, as far as I recall.

'I felt absolutely on top of the world as we walked through the lounge

'at the Crown and Thistle and everyone looked up and stared.

'We went into the bar and had a gin and grapefruit

'and then to the dining room for dinner.

'We had some lovely thick, creamy soup followed by pigeon

'and then a chocolate sweet. With that, we had Moussec to drink.

'Moussec, in case you don't know, is a sparkling champagne.'

If I can be immodest and say we were both good dancers

and so we thoroughly enjoyed dancing with each other.

And I think we probably monopolised each other's evening

very firmly and very successfully

and she didn't seem to mind that at all.

'We then drove back to the Randolph and got there at around 8.45pm.

'Things were in full swing by this time.

'The ballroom was marvellously decorated and all the lighting

'was done with huge coloured lamps operated from the balcony.

'There were two other Conservative couples there

'whom we knew rather well so we teamed up

''and had a thoroughly gay evening.'

It sounds extraordinary in this day and age, but for the most part,

we just sat in our rooms and talked.

We would have what I would describe as a sort of modest

amount of amorosity, for lack of a better word.

I think she was slightly self-conscious about her size,

because she wasn't a small person.

She was a well built, buxom person.

I think she regarded herself, rightly,

as not having a fantastic body as such.

But nevertheless, she could outthink every airhead there ever was around,

without even raising her temperature and her brains at all, I should say.

She invited me to spend a weekend with her family up in Grantham.

I remember it was a little corner shop she had there.

I remember a lot of steep staircases and was given a lovely room

and all the rest of it and looked after quite well, royally,

by her mother and father.

I mean, I enjoyed doing that, but I didn't allow it to weigh too heavily

on my mind, if you understand me.

Soon after the Grantham visit, Tony's Oxford days were over.

He left for Army training in Dorset. The couple corresponded for a while.

Tony sent Margaret this inscribed photograph

of himself in military uniform.

But then the letters stopped.

I didn't feel beholden to write lots of letters.

I think I wrote one or two letters to her.

She, I think, was quite interested in me

because she wrote my parents, I know,

and was sort of wondering what the score was.

I think it just sort of faded away.

I think I found other young ladies

who were very interesting after the war.

And so we left it that way.

As Tony faded away and the War ended,

Margaret was left alone at Oxford.

She busied herself with politics,

becoming president of the University's Conservative Association.

Her letters didn't dwell on the Tony affair at all,

but it was undoubtedly important to her.

She took the relationship seriously,

as, being a serious minded young woman, she would.

You couldn't imagine her just mucking around,

that would never have occurred to her.

And the relationship had a physical aspect.

They kissed one another and cuddled one another

and by Tony Bray's account, she was very keen on that.

Though, he thought, not experienced.

He thought, I think rightly, that he was the first man.

They didn't sleep together, but all this was a sign of her seriousness.

She wouldn't have just been playing.

And I think it had an effect on him which she didn't desire,

because it put him off to some extent.

Because I think he realised first of all that she was more serious than he wanted.

Secondly, that her parents were lower class than he.

And thirdly, that the whole thing was just a bit too much, really.

At this historic ceremony, the public orator proclaims

the achievements of those whom Oxford is honouring.

Margaret graduated from Oxford in 1947

with a second-class degree in Chemistry.

She was now part of the country's graduate elite.

Oxford did give her the springboard that she required

and it gave concrete form to the ambitions

which were always there in her character

and it taught her a lot about politics.

She met famous people who were already adult politicians

who came to speak at the University.

And she became a more sophisticated person.

After the majestic spires of Oxford came the smoking stacks of industry.

Margaret embarked on a round of job interviews

at various chemical firms.

'The person I disliked most was the personnel manager.

'He was a slimy creature, not at all suitable for his job.'

One ICI manager complained that Margaret was

"too strong a personality to work here".

But then neither was she taken by all that they had to offer.

'Billingham is nothing else but ICI.

'One would meet nothing else but the people you worked with.

'No-one of the kind I'd been used to in Oxford.'

Eventually, after three or four interviews,

in the late summer of 1947, Margaret took a post as a research chemist

at BX Plastics in Manningtree in Essex on the River Stour.

She took the job because she thought the post had a managerial element

to it and would allow her insight into the running of a company.

But it was not to be,

as she records in her memoirs somewhat despondently...

'I found myself donning my white coat again

'and immersing myself in the wonderful world of plastics.'

The whole thing failed to inspire her greatly

after the thrills and highlife of Oxford.

The elated letters to Muriel about balls and dances with Tony Bray

gave way to more mundane matters with a familiar dash of impatience.

'The wear and tear on clothes of all kinds is terrific in industry.

'By the way, have my shoes come back from Udall's yet?

'I've asked that in every blessed letter I've written,

'but not a word about them have I received in any reply.'

In truth, the idea of working as a chemist never excited Margaret.

She took the Manningtree job because it allowed her

to be close to London, the heart of politics,

And where she hoped one day she might be able to study for the Bar.

Meanwhile, although Margaret had been bruised by her first boyfriend

adventure in Oxford, finding a man remained high on the agenda.

A fellow lodger, Teddy West, occasionally took her to the cinema.

'On Saturday evening, Teddy West and I went to the flicks.

'By the way, can you scrounge a packet of cigarettes to bring up for him?

'He buys me so many odd drinks that I like to toss him an odd 20 cigs now and then.'

But Teddy wasn't destined to be Mr Right.

If I do go out with Mr West,

we only go for a drink or something that doesn't demand any dressing up.

And he doesn't dance.

Teddy soon disappeared from the correspondence,

only to be replaced by Brian Harrison,

a leading member of the local Young Conservatives.

A former Cambridge student, tall and sporty,

Harrison was like a ghost of Margaret's Oxford days.

She was very good looking,

and consequently one did remember her.

Quite often, there were dances,

and she always took part

in those activities.

I remember she danced very well.

'He's really an Australian,

'but he was left a small estate of 1,500 acres in the country

'about five miles from Colchester,

'and has now come to live here permanently to look after it.

'He's about 26, and very nice.

'The brief encounter was very pleasant, and he has my address

'for when he comes back from the Xmas vacation.'

I found her very likeable, yes.

But I was never at the stage that Denis got to.

Margaret arranged her Essex life just as she had in Oxford,

the day job in the lab followed by the world of local Conservatives,

offering her a social life and feeding the real passion - politics.

We used just to go and take a soapbox, I suppose it was,

and stand there and just try and draw

as much attention as we could to ourselves.

And it worked.

She used her knowledge and she dealt with any hecklers extremely well.

'Dear Muriel, I still don't like the work very much.

'But the politics and social life are beginning to go with a swing,

'which compensates a lot.

'I enjoyed the Brains Trust last Wednesday, and we all went

'and had a drink at The George afterwards to round off the proceedings.

'The socialists were all of the intellectual type, and quite nice.'

Margaret had successfully moved her politics from the cloisters

of Oxford to the streets of Essex.

But, as ever, she preferred to write to Muriel not about policy

or ideology but about her appearance and a lack of money.

'I decided to buy a really nice undie set to go under

'my turquoise chiffon blouse.

'It is a very pale turquoise colour and cost £5 and five shillings.

'I'll not have to spend anything else for the rest of the month.'

If money was to be spent, it was to be on familiar pleasures.

Margaret wrote an ecstatic letter about a weekend

that she'd just spent back in Oxford,

a round of sherry parties and dinner parties,

a delicious taste of what she feared she may have left behind.

And it ended with another blast from the past.

'A letter from Tony Bray!

'The letter was very weird and sentimental.

'"For three years, I have not been able to write to you

'"due to circumstances beyond my control..."

'And so on in that strain.

'I shall write back and tell him to let sleeping dogs lie.'

Despite her protestations about sleeping dogs,

Margaret couldn't resist renewing the friendship

with a recently demobbed Tony.

She reasoned that any reunion would be...

'More to let him see how I've changed than to see him.'

She came to see me certainly once or twice when I was in Brasenose.

She had tea, I remember, in my rooms in Brasenose,

certainly on one, maybe more occasion.

Margaret gave an enthusiastic report to Muriel of her Oxford reunion

with Tony. It had been more than a quick cup of tea.

They dined at the Randolph and Tony took her to the theatre.

The weather was glorious and they punted on the river.

She says she found it easy to get on with him,

although she refused to be drawn on the former relationship.

'The only direct reference I had of times past was when he said,

'quite steadily, "You only realise what you had when you've lost it.

'"And you know what I'm referring to."

'However, I ignored the remark

'and conversation rapidly picked up and flowed on.'

There's a sense that the slighted Margaret now wants the upper hand,

and that her way of gaining control is to show no vulnerability,

make an impression, but above all hold the reins.

'No mention was made of any future arrangements,

'for which I was truly thankful

'for it just wouldn't have been on for me,

'although I quite enjoyed seeing him again for a short time.

'It satisfied my curiosity.

'But he is a weird-looking chap to cart around the place.

'By the way, he didn't know I had been president of OUCA.

'He was immensely impressed.'

But in September, 1948, Margaret met Tony again,

this time for a date in London.

'I was wearing my blue frock and little blue hat,

'little fur jacket with all wine accessories,

'and I forgot to mention he presented me with a spray of pink roses!'

The London meeting was described effusively to Muriel -

tea at Fullers in Regent Street,

a trip to see Carissima at the Palace.

'During the interval, we went and had gin and vermouth in the bar.

'Tony had booked dinner for nine o'clock at Kettner's,

'quite a fashionable West End restaurant.

'I really enjoyed the evening very much,

'though I wouldn't dream of re-striking up the association with Tony.'

They did see each other again.

But as before, things petered out.

Until, over 20 years later, this time at the House of Commons,

where Margaret was now a shadow environment spokesman,

one final meeting took place.

Tony, then a successful stockbroker,

came to the House to meet Margaret to discuss his idea

that council houses could be sold off to sitting tenants.

The policy famously appealed to Margaret.

But the old relationship was never even mentioned.

Oh, well, that shows her at her most relaxed,

but also shows her face and her hair.

That's the hair I remember.

I think we had a degree of happiness together

when we were with each other, but I think, that apart,

I wouldn't say that she was simplistically a happy person.

For Margaret, getting a man was a formula that she hadn't cracked.

Around the time of the Tony relationship,

she wrote to Muriel, saying...

'I don't know that your male problem is the same as mine.

'You seem infinitely more successful with them than I do.'

It's a rare expression of self-doubt.

But if her personal life was complicated,

her political life was about to take a dramatic turn for the better.

In October, 1948, with Margaret just 23 years old,

she joined Oxford's graduate delegation

to the Conservative Party Conference in Llandudno.

'I decided I couldn't possibly go to Llandudno with the communal coat

'as the only topcoat I had.

'So I drew some savings certificates out and I bought

'a fine, lightweight, black wool swagger.

'It's of a rather distinctive design.

'I've drawn it rather stunted, but it's full length, of course.'

Margaret found the quality of the speaking poor,

possibly because she wasn't called on to speak herself.

But a chance meeting with an old Oxford friend

led to Margaret putting herself forward

as a candidate for a seat in Kent.

Dartford was an industrial stronghold,

a safe Labour seat with an all but unassailable majority of 20,000.

The Young Conservatives referred to some of the town's housing estates

rather dauntingly as Little Moscow.

This, of course, was where Margaret was such a gem

when she first came to us,

because she is instilled into us this idea

that if you had the courage of your conviction,

you could do anything.

She wasn't out of the ordinary. She was just exciting.

Margaret's charisma won her admirers

not only in the local Conservative Party, but in her private life.

Just five days before she was formally adopted as Dartford's candidate,

a new man came into her life.

'He's about 35 and has a kind of naivete that only a Scotsman can have.

'I expected to be bored to tears.

'But in fact he was really rather sweet, with quite a sense of humour.'

Margaret was on the lookout for a man to accompany her into her political future.

The letter to Muriel is a bit like running through a CV.

'His farm is worth £25,000.

'He has 3,000 shares of ICI now standing at 47 shillings,

'1,000 of something else, 500 of this and that and so on and so forth...'

These were worthy credentials,

and Margaret enjoyed the attention of her new suitor.

'He drove me home in his present, rather old car,

'and got quite ardent on the way!

'I said I couldn't possibly fix another definite date,

'so he's going to phone me.

'The funniest part is that although I've been introduced to him twice,

'I can never catch his name, and still don't know it!'

The farmer's name was Willie Cullen,

and he was to figure greatly in Margaret's life.

History doesn't record whether he was among those listening to Margaret

five days later at the meeting that put the seal

on her selection as Dartford's new candidate.

But in the audience was another man.

'When the meeting was over,

'I went back and had drinks with the people I'd been dining with,

'a Mr and Mrs Seward.

'A co-director of his, a Major Thatcher,

'who has a flat in London, aged about 36, plenty of money,

'was also dining with them,

'and he drove me back to town at about midnight.'

Denis Thatcher, a former officer mentioned in dispatches,

had his own prosperous paint company.

An ex-public school boy, he was socially a cut above Margaret.

Popular mythology suggests that when he arrived on the scene,

Margaret knew he was the man for her.

But references to Denis in her letters

show that that was certainly not the case.

'Not a frightfully attractive creature.

'Very reserved but quite nice.

'He's not very fond of meeting people.

'He says he doesn't get on with them awfully well.'

It's an inauspicious start for Denis.

The Scottish farmer seems to be in pole position,

Margaret's comments about him being chalk from cheese

in comparison to the choice of words used for Denis.

'He is awfully sweet.

'I'm getting quite fond of him, and a very welcome relaxation.'

She liked Willie Cullen. She thought he was fun,

and he was very keen on her.

She, of course, responded to that,

and though he was famously being close with his money,

he was actually quite gallant with her.

But bizarrely, however fond Margaret declared herself to be,

in the same letter she was explicitly saying that this relationship

was not for her and that her sister Muriel might like to step in.

You had better come down here some other weekend

to meet the current boyfriend.

By the way, he will never become your brother-in-law,

though I have high hopes that he may be mine one day!

Whatever Margaret's intentions with Willie,

he was ready to introduce her to his family

at a dinner party at his home, Fulton Hall.

But the evening sent shivers down Margaret's spine.

It was a close-up view of a world she didn't wish to make her own.

'The wives are typical wives.

'They know of domestic matters and nothing else.

'I stayed with the men after supper, talking about many things,

'and when William suggested that maybe we ought to join the ladies,

'David, a farmer friend, said, in a rather contemptuous fashion, "Why?

'"They don't talk politics or anything else in there."'

The world of Willie Cullen

is very much the world of the solid yeoman farmer.

Absolutely no pretensions to the wider world,

intellectual life, the world of books. This was too narrow for her.

I think in particular it was too much the traditional woman's role.

What starts to germinate in Margaret's mind

is that Willie Cullen is an excellent man,

and why shouldn't he marry her sister, who is,

by the standards of that time,

getting on a bit and who needs a man?

And so all this is constructed by Margaret

so that Muriel and Willie will meet and it will all come to fruition.

But the handover from Margaret to Muriel was not immediate.

Margaret continued to fan the flames of Willie's ardour,

accompanying him to social events and enjoying gifts from him,

ranging from expensive scents to vital commodities - butter, eggs,

grapes, and one special one.

'William has given me a very nice black calf handbag.

'We had my initials put on it as well, and it looks awfully nice.

'I quite loftily say it's not very expensive,

'it's about twice as much as you or I would pay.

'I'll have to hang onto William for a while longer now!'

Margaret's new handbag became a frequent sight

on the streets of Dartford as she threw herself into preparations

for the 1950 general election.

She told Muriel that she had no time now

for what she called a private life.

And, refusing to be intimidated by his massive majority,

she took on her opponent, a sitting Labour MP, Norman Dodds.

She described to Muriel the two candidates' first meeting,

on the dance floor of a civic ball.

'We were dragged off into the middle of the ballroom,

'and quite a ceremony was made of the whole affair.

'Mr Dodds said he was very sorry I was an opponent.

'He then publicly asked me for the next dance.

'The press took pictures and asked for reactions.

'I said we were in tune when we were dancing.

'And Mr Dodds said, "In perfect harmony."

'I imagine the report will make front page news next week.'

Away from the dance floor,

Margaret's campaign was based on stirring patriotism,

and she was impressive in public debate,

thorough in her preparations.

I would come home from doing canvassing,

and my family, who went to help as well,

and we would go off to bed,

and as our room was opposite where her house was

that she was staying, I always remember my dear father,

he used to go to the window and look,

and he'd say, "There's that good girl burning the midnight oil."

Whilst Margaret was burning the midnight oil,

the future of her liaison with farmer Willie had been left hanging.

It needed resolution.

His introduction to Muriel finally took place,

and Margaret now reassured her sister

that the field was clear for her.

'I shan't marry Bill, for, though very fond of him,

'I'm not in love with him,

'and a marriage between us would falter after two or three months.'

I think they both realised they weren't for each other.

She alerted my mother, if you like,

to the fact that she'd met this Scottish farmer

and that she might suit him more than her.

And mother was quite happy

to live a country housewife's type of existence.

Margaret's instincts were right.

Muriel and Willie hit it off.

But despite the deal with Muriel,

Margaret must have carried on seeing Willie, because,

when she writes enthusiastically to her sister about a new doctor

that she's just met while visiting a Dartford hospital,

Willie is clearly still on the scene

and apparently still in the hunt.

I told Willie I'd met a doctor who impressed me very much.

and he wrote back and said was I giving him a hint to get out?

In the same letter Margaret also mentions Denis.

Three horses now lined up for the same race -

the farmer, the paint man, and the doctor.

Margaret's quest for Mr Right was becoming a bit of a soap opera.

But in January 1950,

one of the candidates was finally to be eliminated.

The sisters' conspiracy was to be resolved.

'I've written to William in the vein I told you.

'We are meeting in London on Saturday afternoon

'to talk over the various aspects of we three,

'and it will then be broken off between he and I for good and all.

'Hope you approve.'

But before Margaret had even made it to the post box, the phone rang.

It was Willie.

The couple talked and Willie was finally and conclusively dumped.

It merited a quick postscript to Muriel.

'PPS, I told him from henceforth

'that I would in law only be taking a sisterly interest in future.

'He seemed quite satisfied and is quite pleased at future prospects.'

That was that.

And, astonishingly, only six weeks later,

Willie and Muriel were engaged to be married.

Margaret immediately began designing her own dress for the big day,

and handed out advice.

'Don't worry about the pre-wedding jitters.

'Fi Miller says everyone has them.

'I think you should have a headdress

'with a little blue shoulder-length veil,

'as otherwise folks won't know bride from bridesmaid.

'I'll just have a little draped cap.'

The engagement was announced in the Telegraph and Margaret rejoiced...

'It gives the stamp of certainty to the whole affair.'

Auntie Margaret, she was very fond of my father and he of her,

certainly, right to the very end.

I would've said they were more like friends

than they were like relations, if that doesn't sound silly.

It was a better relationship than one might have with one's sister-in-law.

Margaret fought her first general election

as a Conservative candidate on February 23, 1950.

She was the youngest woman candidate in any party,

and she was roundly applauded... in defeat.

But she'd wiped 6,000 off the Labour majority,

a result that was deemed a triumph, and she agreed to stand again.

The slim Labour government majority had made another general election

both inevitable and imminent.

But, of course, another incentive to have a second crack at Dartford

may have been her latest attraction.

The Dartford Doctor.

'We went for a drive round some of the Weald of Kent.

'It wasn't a very nice afternoon, but still we had a very pleasant drive.

'I think we're both getting very fond of one another,

'in fact more than that, I hope so.'

The doctor's name was Robert Henderson, and he was 47 years old.

23 years Margaret's senior.

A Commander of the British Empire, and inventor of the British

version of the iron lung, despite his age, he was still a bachelor.

Robert Henderson, he was the only one of the four men who

she always describes in favourable terms.

She never ever says anything critical about him,

except sort of teases, about how she's worried, because he's going

off on a cruise, and there's going to be a lot of rich women there.

But there's nothing in any way disparaging, or mocking,

which, to some extent, there is about the others.

I think she really respected him and loved him,

and thought, this is a man I can really admire,

and this is always a very important emotion with her and men,

not just liking them and enjoying the company, or desiring them,

but actually admiring them for their achievements, and she tends

to like older men, and indeed, men rather like her father actually.

But Margaret's attraction to the doctor

was always edged with anxiety.

Her letters to Muriel clearly indicate her fear that

the doctor might either plump for someone else,

or find some other reason for not pursuing the relationship.

He apparently spent part of Christmas with a big farming family,

who own half of the farms in Essex.

They are enormously wealthy,

and have five daughters of marriageable age,

one of which is a doctor.

The prospects don't look very hopeful, do they?

In May 1951, Margaret took a flat in London.

This was a key decision in her life, it allowed her finally

to enrol for the bar, and pursue her legal ambition.

'My goodness, there's a lot of work to be done,

'and it will come terribly expensive.'

Expense was an issue, for the rented flat had to be

transformed into a home suitable for Margaret's intentions.

For the first time, now aged 25, she would be living alone,

and be able to entertain.

'Flat progressing slowly, all curtains are up,

'but lounge ones will have to come down...

'The builders have been in, and I can now get on with the kitchen.

'I have undercoated the walls and I'm going round tonight...

'Then the woodwork will have to be painted, covered doors...'

But no amount of work was ever too much for Margaret.

The DIY was crammed in around constituency duties.

'I am canvassing twice a week, which is taking up quite a bit of time.

'It doesn't look as if things will ever slack off.'

With the flat secured, Denis Thatcher was an occasional caller.

But he clearly still wasn't making the impact of a future husband.

'I can't say I ever really enjoy going out for the evening with him.

'He has not got a very prepossessing personality.'

In the same letter, Margaret reserved her compliments

for the Dartford doctor, Robert Henderson.

'Tonight, Robert is coming up, and we are going out with dinner.

'Last time he came, I cooked a slap-up dinner, four courses,

'just to show him!'

But despite all Margaret's hospitality,

her worst fears about the doctor came true.

Just three months after the move to London,

the relationship was broken off, and the doctor disappeared

altogether from Margaret's correspondence.

According to her father, Alf, Margaret was very upset.

I don't think it's completely possible to

tell from the evidence exactly what brought the relationship to an end.

But I think I can say pretty confidently that he did not

terminally reject her, because if he had,

she would not have spoken to him again.

Her pride would have been hurt,

and she would not have wanted to go near him.

In fact, Margaret did keep in touch with the doctor,

but it was a practical matter that

led her back to him. Only two years later,

she told her sister that she'd written to him about a medical

issue that was on her mind - her son Mark's circumcision.

'I don't like the idea of having it done on the health service in London,

'as you don't know who's going to do it,

'but it costs £15-£20 to have it done privately.

'I am writing to Robert to ask him who does it

'at the Victoria Hospital under the health service,

'because I know Mark will be wonderfully looked after there.'

With the doctor out of the running, Margaret chose to move swiftly on.

No looking back, no regrets.

And very quickly there came news -

all the negative comments about Denis

that studded her correspondence were suddenly swept aside.

Margaret and Denis Thatcher were to be married.

Mrs Thatcher, although she is in many ways a romantic person,

is also a practical person, and she's got to get married,

it's part of her whole life plan and expectation,

but in her particular case,

it's also this need for it to fit with wider ambitions,

so it's very important to marry someone, ideally older

and better off, and settled in life.

And suddenly there it is.

Though undoubtedly genuinely fond of him, I think

the decision was not really a romantic one.

This is the right man and the right time,

and suddenly she sees it all coming into place.

Despite the fact that Denis was divorced, Margaret's preacher

father, Alf, was ready to welcome him as a son-in-law.

He is an exceedingly nice fellow.

Also of course, very comfortably situated financially.

He owns a 1948 Jaguar, and also a Triumph, but is

wanting to get a Jaguar Mark V.

History records Denis as the rock in Margaret's life.

He acted as consort, faithfully strapped into the passenger seat.

He was robustly right-wing, and right from the start was

there to shore up her beliefs and aspirations, and performances.

They're going to see if Denis does his share of the washing-up!

LAUGHTER AND APPLAUSE

'The election campaign immediately got off the mark.

'The bill posters began to cover the hoardings with slogans, while

'committee rooms, staffed by eager volunteers, hummed with activity.'

The 1951 general election was fixed for 25th October.

It was time for Denis to make his first tentative

steps into public life.

He came out to bat for his new fiancee,

turning up to support her in his Jag,

and allegedly having to be restrained from tackling hecklers.

But for the moment, the couple's engagement was kept secret.

As a divorced man, Denis could lose Margaret votes.

This reporter came in one morning, very scruffy looking,

with a big bag, and dumped it on the desk, and sort of said,

"I'm here from the Daily Mirror,

"and we hear that Margaret Roberts has got engaged to Denis Thatcher."

Well, we didn't know anything about this anyway,

so we sort of said, no, and I called somebody more official, and we

bundled him out of the door,

and that was the first we heard ourselves.

CHEERS

On 25th October 1951,

the Conservative Party won the general election.

Winston Spencer Churchill.

And Winston Churchill returned to Number Ten.

But Dartford remained loyal to Labour, and although Margaret

had further reduced the majority in her impossible seat, she lost.

This was the end of Dartford for Margaret,

but no matter, now she had other things on her mind.

On 13th December 1951,

she married Denis in London at the Wesleyan Chapel on City Road.

She wore a velvet dress of sapphire blue,

and a hat modelled on a Gainsborough portrait of the Duchess

of Devonshire - long ostrich feathers cascaded down her face.

Finding the right man could finally come off the to-do list.

All of a sudden, it dawned on me, that this

was the biggest thing in one's life, now kind of sorted out.

And therefore, one turned one's mind both to other things.

Is that a strange thing to say?

That I was what? 25, 26 when we were married. It was.

One recognised that to choose a partner for life is really

the biggest thing in life.

Denis proved to be a good choice for Margaret.

Their marriage was happy and sustaining.

Her instincts had been right, and she never regretted,

publicly at least, her choice of the outsider in the marriage stakes.

I suspect actually that she was in love with Tony Bray, but this

is so early on in her life, that this is really the first

experience of love, and just the excitement of being in love.

And so, it would have seemed dramatic to her, that in some

sense it wasn't serious, or it was the practice for later.

With Willie Cullen, I think there was real affection, enjoyment,

and some attraction, but not deep love.

I think with Robert Henderson, there was a strong feeling

of admiration, which goes so far that it comes into romantic love.

And I think she was sort of touched by him,

and Denis, in that sense, didn't mean that she wasn't serious about

marrying Denis, it wasn't a cynical decision, but it was on the rebound.

The newlyweds spent their wedding night in luxurious

surroundings that Margaret wholeheartedly approved of.

'The Savoy is a wonderful hotel in London.

'You just press a bell, and a valet, or a maid, or waiter appears.'

Then it was off on honeymoon, to the island of Madeira,

where just 20 minutes after arriving,

Margaret wrote to her sister with her impressions.

'Some things that the natives think wonderful are very second-rate to us.

'Some of the people with us are very nice,

'but some are rather tatty tourists.

'Jews and nouveau riche.'

Back in London, Mr and Mrs Thatcher

moved into Denis's Chelsea bachelor pad.

Unsurprisingly, Margaret enjoyed making her new home,

and the social opportunities that came with marriage.

'We are giving our first cocktail party a week on Monday,

'when we have invited 50 people to come.

'Eight of them are MPs, so we may have a number of last-minute

'refusals for unavoidable reasons.'

Margaret started her law course in London,

and continue to attend political conferences around the country.

In fact, she became so busy, that less than four

months into married life, her father Alf wrote to Muriel saying...

We had a letter from Margaret on Saturday morning,

obviously scrawled in great haste, but it appears that, if anything,

she's busier now than before marriage,

with one thing or the other.

But there was always room for more in Margaret's life.

And in June 1952, she contacted Conservative Central Office,

wanting to have another shot at becoming an MP.

After the '51 election, she didn't quite know what to do.

She tried one or two marginal seats, and they turned her down.

The cry in those days -

we want more women candidates. We want more women MPs.

But it always turned out when you went to a selection committee,

they'd say, "Well, this is an industrial,

"or this is an agricultural seat. And women are not quite right."

But before Margaret could find a constituency that was

ready for her female talents, her plans were scuppered by pregnancy.

On 15th August 1953, Margaret gave birth to twins, Mark and Carol.

It was a turning point in her life.

And I remember looking at these two, and thinking, now, this is fantastic.

Now if I'm not careful, I'm never going to make an effort to get back

to the sort of intellectual pursuits, I'm just going to be

so overcome with this that I'm not going to continue with law

or politics or anything, and I really ought to be able to do both.

'England was certainly making a good start, but with his score at 37...'

Denis knew nothing of the birth of his children

until he got home from a day's watching England

take on Australia in a Test match at the Oval.

'And the first day's cricket ended.'

And before Margaret had even left the maternity ward,

she'd arranged to go ahead and take her bar finals.