Fat statue two

 

Every town has something it is known for.

Some have castles. Some have cathedrals. Some have particularly aggressive seagulls.

Our town has gravity problems, a cherry tree that negotiates with fate, and a statue of Margaret Thatcher that appears to influence the behaviour of politics in much the same way nearby physics was influenced by Isaac Newton.

The statue stands in Grantham, which is where she was born and where history has decided she ought to remain for the moment. The statue was originally intended for Parliament Square in London, which is where most statues of prime ministers eventually end up once time has sanded down the arguments.

Unfortunately time had not yet finished sanding.

So the statue stayed here.

Now statues, like trees and old houses, have a habit of absorbing the personality of the people they represent. Most statues merely stand around being symbolic. This one appears to be… active.

Not physically active. It does not climb down at night or reorganise the traffic.

Its influence is subtler.

The effect is easiest to observe in conversations.

Stand within a few streets of the statue and two perfectly calm people discussing something ordinary such as the price of bread will, within minutes, begin outlining entire economic philosophies. One will argue passionately for market forces. The other will counter with public infrastructure. Both will feel slightly surprised to discover they are speaking with the conviction of televised debate panelists.

Step half a mile away and they return to discussing bread.

There are other phenomena.

Pigeons that gather on the statue tend to organise themselves in tidy rows, as though forming a cabinet meeting. The local wind occasionally sweeps through the square with the brisk efficiency of someone privatising a weather system.

And the town council reports a curious pattern. Every time someone proposes a small change to parking regulations, the discussion somehow evolves into a complete reconsideration of national economic policy.

This is exhausting for everyone involved.

The statue also stands very near a branch of Wetherspoon.

Now, placing the likeness of a formidable Prime Minister beside an establishment famous for economical breakfasts and early-morning beer produces a particular flavour of British irony.

Wetherspoon pubs have their own natural laws.

In most places, breakfast is followed by coffee.

In a Wetherspoon, breakfast may also be followed by a pint.

Or two.

Or, in the case of one very memorable regular I observed while eating breakfast there during the years my son attended the The Isaac Newton Primary School, two very brisk glasses of white wine.

She would arrive almost exactly as the doors opened. The staff greeted her warmly by name, the way one greets a reliable sunrise. She would sit down, accept two glasses of wine, and drink them with impressive efficiency, as though the day had begun with a firm and non-negotiable agenda.

Then she would leave.

This entire ritual occurred beneath the distant but unmistakable gaze of the statue of Margaret Thatcher just outside.

There is something wonderfully theatrical about this arrangement.

Inside the pub: discounted breakfasts, cheerful clatter, and the quiet industry of early drinkers attending to their morning routines.

Outside: a bronze Prime Minister associated with discipline, conviction, and the vigorous restructuring of the British economy.

It creates a sort of civic stage set.

Tourists stand outside debating political legacy while inside someone orders a second pint before 9 a.m. The statue looks resolute. The pub looks busy. The pigeons conduct their cabinet meetings on the plinth.

Everyone appears to be following their own version of national policy.

Local people have developed a theory.

Near Isaac Newton’s home the laws of gravity learned to bend a little. Near my mother’s cherry tree the universe occasionally leans toward kindness.

And here in Grantham, where the statue of Margaret Thatcher stands watching the square with unmistakable certainty, political energy behaves in unusual ways.

Arguments gain momentum.

Opinions become structurally reinforced.

And just across the pavement, someone is ordering breakfast with a glass of wine.

It is difficult to say whether the statue approves.

But it certainly has an excellent view. 🍳🍷🏛️