I woke up yesterday morning, as I do most September mornings, thinking about my daughter Zuzu’s birthday which is this month on the 23rd in fact. This year it’s her 19th. 19 years old! Where does time go? So, I got up, took out the photos of her that I keep in my wallet, and looked at them, thinking again, “19 years old, crikey.” Then I saw the pictures of the dead toddler on the beach in Bodrum.
If there is one thing I have tried to keep firmly away from my current work on The Labour Party, Spin and the 1997 and 1966 party machines it’s the relationship between Harold Wilson and his Personal and Political Secretary Marcia Williams (later Lady Falkender). It has proved to be an impossible goal as we can see here.