Tamzin Lightwater

Diary of a Notting Hill Nobody | 15 September 2007

Dave has moved into the building! He and his staff left the Commons office on Friday night and set up camp in The Thatcher Room!

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Dave has moved into the building! He and his staff left the Commons office on Friday night and set up camp in The Thatcher Room! That ought to put paid to the silly people saying Dave doesn’t respect Lady T. I went for a little peep earlier and he’s got piles of clever books. Inside Her Pretty Little Head: A New Theory of Female Motivation and What it Means for Markets sounds interesting. Bit concerned about The Low Carbon Diet. Are we going to have to eat CO2 now? Do I, as a Modern Compassionate Conservative, have to swallow my own footprint? Oddly, someone seems to have taken The Thatcher Room sign off the door. Asked Nigel why, and he claimed Dave insisted on it coming down. Must say, I feel a bit hurt. I fashioned that sign with my own hands, along with signs for the Pankhurst, Strummer and Toynbee rooms. It was one of the rare moments I have been able to put my artistic flair to use. Even if they did look a bit cheap bluetacked to the doors.


So exciting having Dave here. Wandered past his office few times (55 to be precise) and managed to catch a glimpse of him actually in the middle of making policy. Historic, really. He was pacing up and down looking v sexy in open-necked shirt when suddenly he stopped and looked at himself in a mirror on the wall. He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a tie, or should I say ‘The Tie’, the lime-green one. He put it on, and looked at himself. Then he took it off. Then he opened the drawer and took out a purple one and put that on. Then took it off. It was just such a privilege to watch it all happening. One day I will tell my grandchildren about moments like this!

Apparently the room is not going to be renamed after all, as that would be disrespectful. I asked Jed whether he wanted me to make a sign saying ‘Dave’s room’ but he said that wouldn’t be necessary: ‘We’re running a political party not a teenage sleepover.’ Hello! I knew that!


Another day, another lurch! There is to be no more ‘love-bombing the Libs’. (Must say, I won’t miss it. Made me feel bit queasy). From now on the strategy, or should I say Lord A’s strategy, is to kill the Libs stone dead, and if that means insulting Lib Dem voters with all their silly ideas about high taxes and saving the planet (yawn!) by wearing biodegradable sandals like a bunch of bearded hippies, then so be it. We don’t want their kind voting Conservative.

V stern internal memo about the lovely Zac’s report and ‘personal compatibility’. Most of the instructions won’t affect me. Mummy and I hardly ever shop at out-of- town supermarkets. In fact we are v much ahead of the curve on these matters. It’s so much nicer to go to Partridges on the King’s Road or the Londis in Wibberley where you can pull up right outside. And we never use the standby button in our house. Daddy falls asleep in front of the TV most nights so it pretty much stays on 24 hours.


V annoying call from Labour Party Bev. ‘So, to recap, you’re going to charge people for going to the supermarket, supertax their holidays and fine them for watching their own televisions. While we are going to cut taxes, boost business and clamp down on immigrants. And people are going to vote Tory because ...?’ I could have cited any number of policies, not least our super new pledge to teach every child in Britain to make scrambled eggs. But quite frankly, it’s beneath me.