At Margaret Thatcher’s funeral, the Telegraph reports that expressions of appreciation and respect from the British public drowned out the unseemly expressions of animosity from churlish representatives of the left.
It seemed to come out of nowhere. No one knew whoâ€™d started it â€“ perhaps it was purely instinctual. But as the hearse came into view, the crowds found themselves breaking into applause â€“ applause that followed the hearse all the way along the route, until it drew up at the church of St Clement Danes.
Then, once the coffin had been loaded on to the gun carriage and the horses moved off, the applause started again â€“ and followed it all the way to St Paulâ€™s.
Down the roads it spread and spread and spread, a long impromptu chain of respect and appreciation.
The applause wasnâ€™t rowdy; there were no whoops or whistles. It was steady, warm, dignified. But also, somehow, determined.
At Ludgate Circus, protesters began to boo and jeer â€“ only to find the rest of the crowd applauding all the more loudly to drown them out.
Read the whole thing.
The Thatcher funeral inevitably reminds me of Ronald Reagan’s. I remember the whole long route of the hearse to the grave-site far out into the hills, lined all the way with ordinary people, and even the television reportage filled with emotion. I remember in particular the cameras catching sight of one woman holding up a hand lettered sign, which seemed to me to sum up perfectly the feelings of most Americans. That sign read: “Well Done.”