“Were you a big fan of Mrs Thatcher’s stint as Prime Minister, Peter?” said Jack.
“Not too bothered either way,” I answered. “I’m not exactly what you’d call a particularly political animal.”
“Head in the clouds, head in the sand, eh?” said Jack, with a look of distaste. He plonked a bottle of expensive looking brandy on his desk along with two glasses.
“Cheers,” said Jack, filling both glasses. He pushed one towards me.
“Cheers,” I said.
“You see, Mrs T was, in many ways, a visionary, Peter. She believed in an aspirational society,” said Jack. “Get on your bike; go for it; seize the day; grab the bull by the horns. That sort of thing.”
I sipped my brandy, enjoying the burn.
“But, that’s not for everyone, is it? Ninety-nine per cent of the population are just here to make up the num
