Nowadays politics chew ups and
disgorges politicians and there seem to be few heavy weights around. Didn't
politicians used to be dull but reliable, grey but consistent and stuffy but
honourable? When I was growing up politician Willie Whitelaw was a safe pairs
of hands, more a heavyweight than a deadweight. After decades holding high governmental
positions I thought he’d be buried in London but he’s a long way from
Parliament and lies in a quiet churchyard in a village in Cumbria. The first
war I knew of was when the British had to defence the invasion of The Falkland
Islands and Willie presided over it and was regularly on the news. Here I am at
his grave.
He was born in World War One (in which his dad
was killed) and fought in World War Two before entering politics where he became
a mainstay of the Conservative Party under prime ministers Edward Heath and
Margaret Thatcher. I can remember him being the Home Secretary during the 6-day
long Iranian Embassy siege in London in May 1980 (first time I heard of the SAS's
existence.) Margaret Thatcher relied on his wise counsel and consistent
support, famously announcing that "every Prime Minister needs a
Willie".
He’d have remained in politics but aged 69 he
suffered a stroke and was forced to resign, probably marking the decline of
Margaret Thatcher. He died from natural causes aged 81 at his countryside mansion
in Blencow which is a ten minute drive from his
grave. He had been married to Celia for 56 years and they had four daughters.
If there's a place quaint enough to instil eternal rest this churchyard in a
small village in the Lake District is a candidate. I soon found Willie and his
wife lying together until the sun burns up the panel. Willie's headstone is a
little more weatherworn as he died 12 years before his wife. I did a salute and
left.
Willie's home where he died...