LAURA CARTLEDGE: I was finding my feet as Thatcher was ruling at Number Ten

This week I wanted to write about the new class categories, but then Margaret Thatcher died.

In the blink of an eye it seemed the country was divided.

And it was in ways that were harder to define than by just taking a quiz on the BBC website.

The class quiz had told me I am an ‘emergent service worker’.

However when it comes to the death of the former prime minister, who was at Number 10 when I was born, I am finding it hard to decide which picket line to join.

Don’t get me wrong – I have heard all of the stories and of course I have seen the film.

But I still find myself stuck in the middle.

I was finding my feet, quite literally, at the time Thatcher was apparently ‘bringing the country to its knees’.

Or being a ‘strong leader who made Great Britain what it is today’, depending on which newspapers you read and who you ask.

If I am being completely honest, the news on Monday made me feel sad more than anything.

I am not really sure why.

My connections to Maggie are strange ones, based more on geography than anything as my parents and their parents come from Grantham.

And more bizarrely, my great uncle, a baker, popped into her parent’s shop on a delivery and was given a newborn to hold. Baby Margaret.

Who I can’t help but picture with a bouffant hair and pearl earrings.

Perhaps I am sad because of the state of our current politicians.

Who seem to lack a part of the anatomy Maggie wasn’t short on.

Then part of it could be that there is something about celebrating death which just doesn’t sit comfortably with me. Regardless of who it is.

And that is it in the end.

She was a woman, she was a human... and she wasn’t made out of iron 
at all.