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01 October 1998
The Iron lady and whisky
By Peter Clarke

The world knows that Margaret Thatcher likes a dram. In her futile, or at least unsuccessful attempts to woo the Scottish voters her affection for whisky has been underplayed. Now Peter Clarke has asked The Rt Hon Lady Thatcher OM FRS to talk about her experience of whisky

I did not ever taste whisky until the Dartford by-election in 1950. I was working for Dick Body, now Sir Richard Body and we had to swig some down to appear one of the lads in the committee rooms. I did not like it. I endured what I think was Glen Stagg and resolved never to seek out whisky ever again. It was Denis, when he was wooing me, who introduced me to malts. Private Eye has created the caricature of Denis being a gin man but of an evening he is loyal to whisky. Now I see it as a gem but my first taste of Laphroaig was repellent.

Ted Heath, when he was whip, was a great one for lashing out whisky. If you were getting a reprimand, you got a generous helping of his own favourite - Highland Park. I never got reprimanded by him then - only later.

It was at a meeting in Berlin that I first recall realising whisky could be a delight. It must have been in 1960 or thereabouts. It was at the Wannsee Conference Centre. I was the guest of a German Foundation and I thought it would be a patriotic gesture to choose the only native British drink on offer. It was a Glenmorangle. I have never looked back. I have come to think I have a good taste for all whiskies now. I think it is an aspect of growing up. You need a developed palate.

I know that some regard it as a desecration but I confess I water ordinary whiskies as well as my malts. I can associate different dramas In my political life with the distinctive regional flavours. I recall when my beloved Keith Joseph said he did not want to challenge Ted Heath for the Leadership in 1975, I needed to take a large measure to embolden myself. It was a Glenburgie. It is strange how memory colours an event with aromas and flavours. The palate and the nose store experience. The tang of Glenburgie is astringent. It was what fortified me to go for the Leadership. The rest is history.

One of the earliest decisions in Government was to scrap Exchange Controls. Nobody now remembers that until 1979 you needed the Bank of England's consent to take more than £100 out of the country. The decision was mine but the mover of the reform was Nigel Lawson. My Chancellor, Geoffrey Howe was wobbling, as ever. Nigel, I remember gave him a classic Macallan and by his second glass Geoffrey had mellowed into suspending the tyranny of the exchange controls. I recall all the advice from the experts, including those chumps at the CBI, was that we could not privatise the huge State Monopolies - gas, rail, phone, and electricity.

The crucial meeting to discuss their liberalisation was at The Centre for Policy Studies with Alfred, now Sir Alfred Sherman. He said the experts were always wrong and a market has got to be better than a monopoly. We could not decide which one to sell off first. He placed several bottles on the green baize table. A Bunnahabhain 12 Year Old, from Islay was placed above a doodle of a phone. That is how the PO's crumbling phone system came to be the now highly successful BT and a whole new telecomms business was created. I don't think I have ever revealed that before. The malt was a gift from Lord Margadale who owns much of Islay. His son, Peter was my PPS. The other vivid whisky association I have is during the Falklands War. It was a tense few weeks. It was far from clear we would win but we could not just limp away from the Argentine aggression. John Nott, my Defence Secretary, must have knocked back a few dozen Lagavulin with me. It is so easy to pretend it is medicine. We could do nothing. It was up to the military.

I had acquired a taste from my regular visits to Islay to stay with the Morrison family. Lord Margadale used to send Denis and I a crate of 12 bottles of Islay's finest for Christmas. I have a good selection of whiskies to choose from at my home. I usually offer a whisky to any guest. I frighten too many and they choose only polite tonic water or fruit juice. I would feel a greater rapport if they accepted a dram with enthusiasm. I regard it as a test of character.

I have one final, and bitter, whisky association. During the week I was defeated for the leadership in November 1990, I was far too relaxed. I believed my close advisers that I was safe. I think I was too calm. The flavour I associate with the frantic week was the marvellous Springbank. I had been given a case by an admirer. It was not a whisky I had encountered until then. The 12 bottles disappeared quickly - I do not mean just by me tippling but every visitor had to be mollified or comforted. A whisky is a consolation and a cushion against despair.

I ought to feel guilty that a drink that has given me and Denis so much, remained burdened by heavy excise duties but Prime Ministers have to follow advice and I never received a hint from The Treasury they would permit a lightening of the tax load. Soon all these decisions will be taken by the Commission in Brussels. Executive action there is lubricated by claret and cognac, rarely, if ever by whisky.

Peter Clarke has a regular column in The Sunday Times and contributes to several other publications, including the Wall Street Journal, on a freelance basis

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