• MARGARET THATCHER — 30 YEARS ON

Belgravia, London · 4 May 2009

A long wait, a tap on the car window — and an unexpected five minutes with Margaret Thatcher

On 4 May 2009, almost exactly 30 years after Margaret Thatcher's 1979 General Election victory, I was working a freelance shift for the Daily Mail.

I was sent to her home in Belgravia, central London, in the hope of getting some photographs to mark the anniversary.

Lady Thatcher had round-the-clock police protection at her home and armed officers were regularly outside. When I arrived, I asked one of them whether she was at home. Understandably, he wasn't giving anything away.

So I waited.

I was the only photographer there, which at least meant I wasn't under the usual pressure of competing with a pack of other photographers. But after sitting in the car for several hours with apparently nothing happening, I began to nod off.

Then somebody tapped on my window.

It was Carol Thatcher.

She asked what I was doing there. I explained that I was hoping to photograph her mother because it was the 30th anniversary of her election victory and told her I was working for the Mail.

Carol seemed happy enough with that answer, although she neither confirmed nor denied that her mother was inside. She went back into the house and I returned to waiting.

Another hour or so passed.

By early afternoon I noticed one of the curtains move. I couldn't make out who was behind it and thought little more of it.

About ten minutes later, Carol came out of the house.

And Margaret Thatcher followed her.

She was immaculately dressed in blue, complete with her pearls and brooch. After spending hours wondering whether I would get a photograph at all, I suddenly had the former Prime Minister standing in front of me.

Then she looked at me and asked:

“What do you want me to do?”

I was flabbergasted.

I asked if she would mind posing beside the doorway and she happily obliged.

For the next five minutes or so, Lady Thatcher effectively gave me my own little portrait session. She posed for photographs, chatted with me and interacted with some of the people who happened to be passing through the square.

She couldn't have been nicer.

At one point I even asked the armed police officer if he would take a photograph of the two of us together. It wasn't perhaps my most professional request—and he politely declined.

After Lady Thatcher had gone back inside, the officer told me that she had never done anything like that before and said:

“You're a lucky guy.”

He was right.

The picture desk was delighted with the photographs, but for me the assignment became about much more than getting the pictures.

I'd arrived expecting a long day sitting outside a house, perhaps returning with nothing. Instead, through a combination of patience, timing and probably the fact that I was there alone, I found myself spending a few unexpected minutes photographing and talking to one of the defining figures of modern British political history.

Thirty years after her election victory, I had gone looking for a photograph of Margaret Thatcher. Instead, she came out and gave me one.