Politics has been everywhere this week following the demise of Britain's first woman Prime Minister. Tomorrow my in laws are coming for lunch. Between now and their arrival a sign will be going up on the door announcing that this house is a Thatcher free zone.
I have never seen the point of debating politics, after all my humanitarian, leftie leaning arguments are hardly likely to have a die-hard Tory suddenly having an eureka moment and declaring 'golly, you're right' are they?
The trouble is my father-in-law, lovely man though he is, doesn't work by the same rules. He loves nothing more than to bang on about politics and will argue black is white if it's the opposite of the view everyone else around the table is espousing. When my father was alive I would stand well back and watch them, one the son of a Socialist who believed vehemently in unions and didn't have much time for management, the other a self made man, a member of the management class and believer in free markets with not much time for the welfare state or NHS. It's amazing they never came to blows.
I'm a political being and have firmly held beliefs and principles but, as far as I'm concerned, they're my business and no-one else's. I don't hide them but I don't need to impose them on anyone else either. I grew up under Thatcher. My views about her and those of my father in law are as wide apart as the Grand Canyon. I've interviewed a few politicians in my days as a journalist and have concluded, generally, they tend to be much of a muchness. The best I can say about David Cameron, our current incumbent, is he has lively hair.
We're just back from a couple of weeks in America visiting North and South Carolina and New York. The United States is a fine place with many lovely, friendly people but I've found, it's best to steer clear of politics and religion especially when you're in the South.
I reminded the husband of this before we left the UK and pleaded with him, for the sake of a relaxed, pleasant holiday, not to come out with anything inflammatory. He got distinctly huffy at the very possibility.
Eight hours and two flights after leaving the UK we arrived in Charlotte, North Carolina, on a beautiful, sunny afternoon. The sons and I sat with the luggage in the Avis car rental office while the husband did the paperwork. Our accents were much admired, the wonderfully friendly staff took the boys to have their photos taken sitting in a whizzy Mustang, the atmosphere couldn't have been friendlier, until the assistant commented on the husband being left handed as he signed the rental agreement.
'The same as your President, I'm in good company then,' I heard him utter chirpily. Oh great.
The temperature dropped several degrees, the previously effusive assistant turned distinctly chilly and snapped in her Southern drawl, 'I'm no supporter of his, I'm a Ronald Reagan girl' and the bonhomie was long gone. Fabulous, we're not even out of the airport and he's done it. Sigh.
It didn't even come as a surprise when, suddenly, our pre-paid all inclusive voucher now was mysteriously £350 short and when, a few days later, the supposedly top of the range executive Chrysler 300 developed a burning smell and all the electrics packed up.
See, steer well clear of politics and religion.
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