The Auntie Doris Years: 1990

image The 1990s was my final decade in the land of the living. I was 76 in 1990. Getting old, body failing and my mind starting to lose interest a bit. The human body is an excellent device for allowing the human soul to express itself in the material world, the land of the living. But it only lasts so long. Towards the end, you get stuck in a failing body, and everything seems a bit too much effort. Still, life is so good, and separated from the other side and The Meld, you are under the illusion that it is all that you have. You definitely want to savour the very last drops.
I know I ruddy well did, particularly when my nephew Michael became a father that spring. I could hardly ruddy believe it. Him and his ruddy girlfriend. Not much more than kiddies themselves. Well, he was pushing thirty, but he’s over fifty now, and still a ruddy kiddie in my book. May Rose, they called her. I asked them not to tell me what it was going to be, and I was delighted to discover that she was a girl when she came. Having the chance to hold her in my arms gave me a real thrill. I could see myself in her, and April May, and my Mother. My Mother, who was born in Victorian days! And this little baby, my grand niece or whatever she was. So obviously full of my mothers stuff, call it DNA, Reincarnation, The Meld, whatever. It was ruddy marvellous to see.
She kept my interest up, otherwise I would hardly have bothered when the Tories kicked Thatcher out of 10 Downing Street that winter. It was a master stroke any road. She had become so much of a power crazed figure of hate that she was a ruddy liability to them. They replaced her with a new Prime Minister, John Major, a man so bland, genteel and well mannered that it was very difficult for anyone to muster up any dislike for him, which stood them in good stead when the elections came a couple of years later.
Like I said though, I wasn’t really bothered for my sake. But I didn’t want little May Rose to be growing up in a country ruled by someone like Thatcher. She was a bad role model for women. I just hope to God that the next woman that becomes the prime minister is a genuine caring person. And say what you like, I honestly don’t believe that there are any of those in the ruddy Tory Party, even though it would be hard to find one as vindictive and self obsessed as Thatcher.
Auntie Doris’s Top Pop Hit of 1990: “Nothing Compares” by Sinead O’Connor. All I can say is, I liked that one. It was a lovely tune and a lovely song. Not bad for a lass with a funny haircut. They had it on the stereogram when I had my first cuddle with May Rose, and it was true. Nothing compared to her.

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