Mrs Thatcher

I am Thatchurated: the Telegraph is full of her, the Times too; every where I look I see her face, young, middle-aged, old. Thatcherated, up to here (a point above my head) fed up with it all, the tributes, the what-a-wonderful-woman encomiums.
Mrs Thatcher was not a likeable woman. She was a sort of  female machine, a robotic creature with certain missions in her head and nothing was going to stop her seeing them through. Nothing: not miners and their families, not her colleagues who probably despised her as much as she despised them; not anyone daft enough to disagree with her - because she was right and everyone else who didn't agree with her was wrong. She could not compromise on anything because she was always right and they were wrong. She had no feeling for people, no empathy. At times she seemed to sympathise with ordinary people but this was always over trivial matters.
But she got certain things done for which we have to be grateful: she took on the unions which were just about getting completely out of control and won so that they became a spent force politically. She fought a war with a dictator who'd have over-run The Falklands and probably kicked the British out of there. And she helped Reagan bring down Communist Russia which I once believed would last for ever.
But she did all these things with a coldness that was as unfeeling as a boa constrictor.
Many feel she wrecked industry in this country, leaving parts of the North of England destitude.
She ordered the sinking of the Belgrano with all those young men on board. Maybe that was a turning point in the war but, I believe, she felt no remorse.
The odd thing is that while I dislike the woman I feel that she may have saved the country from open revolution - I believe it had got to that point when she became Prime Minister and I don't believe there was anyone else capable of facing up to it.