Calgacus
Calgacus

The EU Creates A Desert and Calls It Peace

Sir Teddy Taylor.  A recollection. A salute.

Sir Teddy Taylor. A recollection. A salute.

Sir Teddy Taylor

A recollection. A salute.

I met Sir Teddy Taylor before I met Enoch Powell. I do not think I would have been interested in politics nor inspired much by politicians enough had I not seen Teddy Taylor, gone to listen to him and met him afterwards.


At university the Conservatives had meetings and invited speakers. This was the mid eighties - Thatcher-time.


The Student Union and establishment marxists would hold "no platform" demonstrations. One of the first I witnessed was when - no, let us forget this chap's name - a cabinet minister, came. His cars sat at the top of the hill, his security guard came for a recce and then the minister, for fear of the violence, cleared off back to London.


Next time, the victorious mob were out again. But this time, some bloke, not very big, came to speak. The screaming mob seemed to excite him. He went up to the biggest of them at the front rank, pulled his placard from him and wrote his own slogan on the back. He probably did it in fountain pen because I cannot rememeber what it said. It was the way he waved it that counted. It was the courage.


What did it matter? Who was this man? Who? Who ever this bloke was, I was going to listen to him. I pushed my way through the protest and got into the meeting. Who was this man?
It was Teddy Taylor - and I had been inspired by the courage of a politician for the first time. One of the few times.

 

Sir Edward MacMillan Taylor (18 April 1937 - 20 September 2017)

 

Rest now.