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Excerpted from Give Me Ten Seconds by John Sergeant. Copyright © 2002. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
As we gathered at Heathrow on Saturday, 28 March 1987, for the flight on an RAF VC-10 to Moscow there was still very much a cold war atmosphere between the two countries. It was the first visit by a British prime minister to the Soviet Union for more than twelve years and the Russians even thought it might be cancelled at the last minute after what they regarded as a hard-line speech by Mrs Thatcher the week before. She was not at all anxious to lose the Iron Lady sobriquet, which the Russians had bestowed on her before Mr Gorbachev came to power, and relished the idea that one of her roles was to put backbone into the American president, when it came to dealing with the Soviet Union. She was also totally committed to the retention of nuclear weapons. But she was also highly intrigued by the reformer Mikhail Gorbachev and made much of the fact that after their first meeting, some years before, she had announced that he was a man she could do business with. For weeks she had been preparing for this visit, being briefed by the most senior advisers on the Soviet Union.
The group of about twenty journalists were installed in the back of the plane. Conditions were fairly cramped, but we knew that RAF hospitality was of a high standard and soon after take-off we were assured by Bernard Ingham that we could look forward to our dinner undisturbed. Proper crockery plates, not the usual airline plastic, were laid out and the main course arrived. At this moment, right behind me, Mrs Thatcher appeared. I was taken by surprise and without thinking stood up. Plates, glasses and food shot on to the floor. Oh, thats all right, she cooed in her most motherly manner. You stay where you are. She then proceeded to clear up the mess, before stewards rushed to her aid. As I looked down on the prime minister I thought to myself, This really isnt my day. But I think Mrs Thatcher rather enjoyed the incident. She liked to give the impression that we were all incompetent men and only she could sort us out. As she rose from the floor I managed to push a microphone under her chin and, somewhat to her surprise, launched into a long radio interview about the Soviet Union. My colleagues in the lobby were kind enough not to interrupt; and the interview only ended when she rather delicately put her hand over the microphone. But by then I had had Mrs Thatcher at her best, fluent and interesting, unloading herself of all that detailed briefing, but doing so in a way that was easily understood. It was the best interview she ever gave me.
Later in the flight there was a bizarre incident when Mrs Thatcher once again came to the back of the plane. In tow was the foreign secretary, Sir Geoffrey Howe, literally so. She pulled him down the gangway between the seats, her hand gripping his casual sweater. Look at Geoffreys new jumper, she told us with almost schoolgirl delight. Sir Geoffrey gave no impression of being disconcerted, but in a few years time he would get his own back for this and other humiliations. For many people it was his resignation speech in the House of Commons which led to her downfall.