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.

The Auntie Doris Years: 1987

Ruddy, Ruddy, Ruddy, RUDDY Thatcher! She only went and won her third Election in 87, didn’t she? What on earth people were thinking, I can’t imagine. Neil Kinnock was in charge of Labour, and although he was no Clement Atlee, or Harold Wilson, he was a decent enough seeming bloke. But the Labours were turning away from socialism, and half the people in the country couldn’t tell the difference between them and the ruddy Liberal Democrats Social Alliance or whatever they ruddy called themselves. So Ruddy Thatcher got in again. But if she had been a bit crackers before… You could tell that she was getting close to completely crackers now. She was like ruddy Caligula. She really believed that she could do anything she wanted. “I am going to give more privatised industries back to the people” she said. Some ruddy idiots actually believed her. They didn’t see that nationalised industries actually belonged to them already, and all she wanted to do was let her rich Tory mates get hold of them cheap. Yes, some ordinary people could afford a few shares, but how many hung on to them for more than a year or two before selling them to Thatcher’s ruddy Tory cronies, for a few quick quid. And how much was your last gas bill?
“I intend to be the Prime minister until at least 1994” she said. Which was so frightening that it even frightened her own ministers. “I want to introduce a new tax, a ‘community charge’ by 1990,” she said. What she meant was she wanted to tax people to vote. You had to pay this “poll tax” to have your name on the ruddy voting list. Not that she only wanted rich people to vote. She wanted another reason to send poor people to prison too, because that way, they couldn’t be counted as unemployed.”
She didn’t want poor people to read the small print and understand this properly either, because she abolished free eye tests. She took that many biscuits that Mr Peak and Mr Frean eventually had to close down their factory. Like everyone else that was actually producing anything in 80s Britain. It’s probably a ruddy call centre or a biscuit museum now.
The 1980s should have been a happy decade for me, I should have turned 70, and grown old comfortably. But I could see the country falling to bits at the same rate as me and Raymond’s bodies were. All the beautiful organisations and things that had been set up for ordinary people who had fought and returned from world wars. People who wanted equality, who had defended the country for toffs and commoners alike. Now being ignored, and cheated, and treated as worthless. Left Right and centre. By a mad old woman and her greedy cronies. It was a crying shame.
Auntie Doris’s Top Pop Popperty Topper of 1987: “Something Inside So Strong” by Labi Siffre. It’s a funny ruddy name, Labi, but it’s a great song. A great song for downtrodden people everywhere, and there were plenty of them in Britain in those days.. And more to come….