Debate of a state funeral for Baroness Thatcher has seen her image rekindled in the eyes of those who may have otherwise forgotten her, if not for Meryl Streep’s potentially Oscar-winning film the ‘Iron Lady’.
However, even the relaxed surroundings of the Court Royal, in the picturesque coastal town of Bournemouth, cannot settle the fires stoked within the minds of visitors to this South Wales miners’ convalescence home.
The Court Royal has been here for these men since 1947. They can seek respite there at discount prices.
Having said that, even the mention of Thatcher, so despised in these Welsh valley communities, can divide what was once the ‘vanguard’ of the working class and trade union movement in Britain.
One was brave enough to say that Thatcher was the ‘best thing’ that happened to them, hastening an inevitable industrial collapse in South Wales. Being of an age when giving piece of mind is often overtaken by the understanding and tolerance of alternate opinions, he was heard out in full.
In fact, there was something approaching appreciation of her predecessor in the Seventies.
“Ed Heath was the best Tory for the miners. Although we struck for six months, he offered us a good pension,” said ex-miner, Ken Chicken, 76.
Furthermore, some had little time for miners’ champion, Arthur Scargill.
Ben Wright, 74: “Did not like the man, strike was a waste of time. He had way more cases won for the Yorkshire miners than for anyone else.”
Another had yet bigger fish to fry. Roy Stanley, 71: “Colliers, every last one of them, thought they were God Almighty.”
She did not escape their fury entirely, though. Contrary to her uncompromising image, deals were struck in those days, to ensure – or hope – that the miners went back to work. Somewhere along the lines, in Ben Wright’s case, lay broken promises:
“Our mine was to remain open for another ten years, we were told. A mate said he was in work one morning not long after this, and I asked, ‘Why are you back so early?’, and he said they told him to go home: the pit was closed.”
One acknowledged his fortune at that time.
Terry Western, 68: “I was one of the lucky ones. I was never out of work. My brother had a small windows business – no one else in my family worked down the mines – and he put me in touch with one of the bigger companies.”
Although all proud to have been miners, Albert Evans, 88, Penyrheol, South Wales, was not afraid to be honest regarding his ambitions as a child.
“When I left school, my father said ‘I have a job for you’. I told him I didn’t want to work in the mines. I did errands for the baker and butcher. I worked on a farm for awhile. The money wasn’t good, so my father said, again, ‘I have a job for you’. I actually got better money going down the pit, than at the farm.”
He trailed off for awhile, describing in earnest his life up until now.
“My son used to love watching ‘The Bill’, and one day, he’d left the TV blaring and was in the toilet. His heart had just stopped. My wife died a few years ago, so I live alone these days.”
Fortunately, this is a story that had a happy, inspiring and rather poignant ending.
“My daughter lives nearby, so I see a lot of her. My grandson got all his medical certificates and is a doctor now, so I’m pleased for him.”
Roy Lewis, 69, from Swansea, had a simple explanation for his choice of work.
“My father and grandfather worked down the pit. Friends were all down in the mines, so I never really considered anything else, to be honest.”
Hoping to strike a chord with Roy, it was suggested that perhaps he would find Streep’s film to be a waste of time.
“I actually wouldn’t mind seeing the ‘Iron Lady’ film. It’s good to look back, I suppose.”
Reflecting upon the industrial strife in the Eighties, he said: “We had a wonderful time. Brilliant time, I did. I mean, it was hard; but we coped, didn’t we? The same thing was going to happen to the industry, sooner or later.
“Support from the Nottingham miners could’ve clinched it for us. The same thing would’ve happened eventually, though, wouldn’t it?”
Another ex-miner offered a great window through which today’s generation can see how Thatcher did battle with the miners, amongst other things.
Robert George Osbourne, 87, from the Rhondda Valleys, said: “Over the ‘bush’ was us, the community who’d suffered typhoid once upon a time. The others, on the opposite side of the town, had been left unscathed. To them, and us, being a ‘Bush Boy’ was like being a Roman! They never picked on you, if they knew who you were. They’d know they’d have a six-foot brother, uncle or father – particularly any man in my family – after them, otherwise!”
Moving onwards, he said, “The police would come in and we’d be obliged to give them a free drink. Otherwise, they’d be standing outside the door at closing time to ticket grown men for being ‘drunk’ – after only a few pints!
“Another time, young boys, in perfect order, were accused by the police of cursing. I knew fine they hadn’t, I’d have told them off myself. The coppers were walking under the bridge below at the time, anyway. They wouldn’t have heard anything, let alone cursing!”
No one, it seems, escapes his ire.
“Union officials back in the Eighties, even when fighting for other men, were there for themselves. Same with councillors. Same thing with the Labour Party.”
Coal will make a comeback, someday: “Once all, or most of, the pits were closed, many still had several miles of coal left in them. There is still coal there, where we worked.”
Is the legacy of Thatcher for better, or for worse?
