“THREE to five years?” says a colleague, incredulous at Professor Chamberlain’s statistic in today’s main piece. “That’s why you should always read while you’re in there. Multitasking.”
“THREE to five years?” ponders another. “My husband seems to take that long in a single sitting the morning after a curry.”
A BIT more on Margaret? Go on, then. Why not?
Pitsmoor’s most famous Tory supporter Peter Stringfellow has been remembering her in his own inimitable way.
“I first met Baroness Thatcher at Stringfellows, for a Conservative fundraiser I hosted in 2005,” he told the Huffington Post.
“None of our dancers were performing. I had been told by the organisers that it would be a good idea not to have them there. But Lady Thatcher had a surprise in store. In the middle of the evening, she looked me directly in the eye and asked: ‘Where are your girls?’
“I replied: ‘Ma’am, they are not here tonight as it is a special, fundraising evening.’
“She replied: ‘What a pity.’”
And at the end of the evening, he adds, she smiled and blew him a kiss.
“As far as I’m concerned,” concludes the 72-year-old, “the only thing that beats that is if I tell you I shook hands with Sir Winston Churchill which, of course, I never did.”
HE concluded his memories, incidentally, by adding: “We will never see the like of her again.”
There are plenty of people who hope not.
A MISSIVE arrives from regular Diary correspondent Phil Parker.
“I’d like to claim the prize for spotting the made-up word that you slipped in to Wednesday’s paper,” he says. “‘The stew had made intimate acquittance with the bin’. Now call me pedantic but I think ‘acquaintance’ would have sounded better there.”
He’s right. It would.
AND while we’re talking mistakes, anyone without a working knowledge of hieroglyphics may have struggled with the first line of this column on Thursday.
Symbols replaced the opening paragraph due to gremlins in the system.
Apologies all round.