Dear Mrs May
As one woman to another, I am hoping that you might consider my application for Home Secretary.
Like you I am married – a few days off thirty nine years in my case – and I have hands-on experience of running a Home, including practice in which end to peg socks onto the outdoor washing line. (I was congratulated on that intuitive skill by a retired diplomat in Switzerland when I was only 18.)
As for the Secretary part, I can write letters unaided, as you can see. I can also type a bit, with a minimum of three fingers (the two middle ones are a bit stiff these days) and I am good at spell-checking without even using an online tool. My printer has broken though, and I need to warn you that I only use Open Source software, courtesy of my talented son (although I heard from one of your colleagues that you haven’t one of those. I am sorry to hear that, because I am rather fond of mine).
My friends would say that I am honest to a fault. In fact one therapist said (after the first (1994-95) of my breakdowns to be documented by the NHS. I suppose I should own the others): did I even know the meaning of the word “guile”? and then quoted from ‘The Duchess of Malfi’ to me. No, I haven’t see it either.
There. What else do I need to disclose?
My lifetime dedication to the Conservative party has been zero, although I have supported tactically many other parties (not UKIP) in all elections in which I was entitled, nay privileged, to vote, with the exception of the one in (? I forget) February 1974 when I was in emotional turmoil Trying to Leave (or Shall I Stay?) a relationship, not with Europe (as a biological scientist and teacher I have always been a staunch Remainer) but with a musical mathematician from St John’s. (Cambridge actually.)
Oh, and lastly, by the way
Please let me poetise and say
Tomorrow is your Lucky Day
Because it is the First of May
Do say: “Today, oh let us Stay
a European, E-United K“
Sorry about that; I do have this tendency to break into doggerel, and also to dance around the Chamber offering hugs and metta to anyone who looks sad.
Dr Kathy Labrum (New Hall/Murray Edwards College 1972-1980)