Not long before her departure from the political scene, I was invited to a Christmas lunch at Lord McAlpine’s country house, where Mrs Thatcher and Denis were the main guests.
We were 12 in all: an odd mix, including Terence Donovan, Mrs T’s favourite photographer, Olga Polizzi and her husband, William Shawcross, and Henry and Tessa Keswick.
In the slightly awkward pre-lunch drinks, I was standing with two other guests and Mrs Thatcher when, out of nowhere, she announced (and this is best done in a
