Say it now. Say it again. Remind yourself that, today, in blistering heat, on slippy worn-out grass, Andy Murray won on Centre Court at Wimbledon.
Throughout the season, journalists have filed endless reports on the exceptional circumstances of this electrifying Championships. They told us that this was shaping up to be the game-changing year. This year’s action in SW19 – so they said – would be remembered for decades.
And how right they were.
“MAGGIE DEAD”, screamed The Sun.
“REJOICE!”, cried the Socialist Worker.
“Margaret Thatcher: 1925–2013”, led The Times, The Telegraph, and The Independent with rather more dignity.
News last Monday of the death of the former British Prime Minister started it all: a week in which the public were accused of bad taste, broadcasters were accused of bias, and (in my opinion) the state massively overstepped the mark.
Above it all, one phrase was used over and over again: that Baroness Thatcher is proving as divisive in death as she was in life.
What a poetic observation. And how witty. It’s all awfully clever.
But there’s something very unpleasant, I feel, about celebrating the death of somebody… anybody. Sure, she may have snatched the milk from a generation. And she may have ‘ripped the heart out of society’. Don’t mention the trade unions.