10 Downing Street
JOHN AND NORMA MAJOR
The idea of meeting your Prime Minister I must admit remains a fairly distant prospect for most people, I am and was no different. I remember watching the news bulletins as a teary Margaret Thatcher made her final statements as she stepped down as both the leader of the Conservative party and as Prime Minister. It was the first time that we had seen the ‘Iron Lady’ buckle, as the knives came out from who had formerly been her closest allies. It was indeed a moment befitting Brutus in British politics.
At the point that I watched the scenes I had no idea that only weeks later I would be knocking on the door of number 10 Downing St. and entering what is surely one of the most famous doorways on the planet.
It came about as a result of a most unflattering photo of John Major’s wife. John major had shocked the political classes and the nation by entering the Conservative party leadership race in its second round, after Margaret Thatcher had thrown in the towel. Major had shocked everybody by beating the chest thumping political equivalent to ‘Tarzan’, Michael Heseltine, to the top prize. I don't think anybody had seen that coming. John and his family had moved into number 10 and his wife Norma had appeared at the door where a very unflattering picture was snapped and published in several national newspapers. The stories were far from complementary and suggested she was somehow out of place and out of her depth at number 10. John himself was being ridiculed and undermined as I think his father had been a performer on the Music Hall circuit and in the circus.
Norma took matters into her own hands and contacted the brilliant Barbara Daly. An incredible makeup artist who had created the unforgettable identities for the Droogs in the legendary movie ‘A Clockwork Orange’, as well as more glossy magazine covers than you can imagine, before creating her own eponymous makeup brand in conjunction with the body shop. Barbara, who is a close friend of mine was very kind to recommend me for the job of helping to make Norma's hair the best it could be. I would like to think that both Barbara and I fulfilled the brief. I think people started to view Norma in a different way. The changes to both her hair and makeup were subtle but effective and all three of us felt it was a more professional appearance. I believe people think there is a team on hand to help and advice those who are thrust literally into the public eye, being photographed from dawn to dusk without permission ever being sought, this was not the case. I felt it was a mark of just how smart Norma was that she took it upon herself to seek out the people who could help her achieve the best results. Norma was no way profligate with her team. Both Barbara and I worked hard to teach Norma exactly how to look after her hair and makeup herself, which she did a lot of the time.
While Barbara would only really be present for photo shoots, Norma would either come to the salon in new Cavendish Street or have me on occasion visit number 10.
I visited Downing Street on several occasions, and each time I tried to take a different assistant with me. My reason was that I wanted as many of the young people I worked with to get the experience of walking through this world famous doorway and into the special building. Each time before we went I would emphasise what an incredible opportunity this was and that they should try to remain present and fully experience the visit, understanding that this might be the only or last time that this privilege was proffered to them. I would say that for the rest of their lives when they saw that door on the news they would be part of a very exclusive club that didn't have to wonder what was on the other side.
The first time I visited in my car (a white Mazda MX5 sports car) I had imagined that I would be ushered around to the back, but that was not the case. Downing Street was now a gated street, as a security measure. As I approached there were lots of people, tourists I should think, crowding at the gate looking down towards number 10. As I indicated and turned in towards the gate the people parted to allow my car access. I remember thinking it must be odd to see this little sports car approaching the gate to Downing Street. Not quite the Range Rover or Jag that normally came and went from the street. I think the police at the gate may have thought the same.
An officer approached and I wound down the window,
‘Morning Sir’. He said ‘and how can we help you?’ I explained that I was there to see the Prime Minister's wife and that the names of both William my assistant and I should be on the list. I passed him our passports as official IDs that I had been asked to take along. The officer sounded fairly embarrassed as I heard him talking to the radio.
‘Charlie tango, Roger (crackle crackle), got a fellow here says he's here to see the PMs wife, (crackle crackle).
I heard a few more crackles and a muffled response, and the gates started to open. After more officers had checked under the car with mirrors on sticks (bomb checks, I suppose) I was surprised to be told to park right opposite the number 10 door! Well I wasn't expecting that. We got out and knocked on the door, it was opened swiftly and we found ourselves in a large black and white tiled hallway.
It was a real privilege to be standing in this building and to walk up the stairway and look at the photographs of all the previous Prime Ministers, which hung on the walls of the stairwell.
On my very first visit it was clear to see that Margaret Thatcher had definitely not been wasteful with public money with regard to the decoration of the number 10 apartments. The main bedroom was lined in wood-chip wallpaper, a staple of most lower standing British homes throughout the 1970s. Like so many of those less than glamorous homes, this had obviously been over painted many times. I scanned the ensuite looking for a shower, in fact a shower attachment on a bath, but none was to be found. The ensuite bathroom was very basic with an old panelled in bathtub and a pedestal sink. The sink didn't even have a mixer tap, it was just old school with hot and cold separate taps. Norma appeared with a rubber shower adapter in her hands. I hadn't seen one of those for some time! We got the rubber connectors attached to the taps to create our own mixer shower attachment and we were away.
One of the most exciting visits to number 10 was for a shoot for the Tatler magazine. They were writing a feature about Norma and she was also to be on the cover. I arrived early and was taken up to the apartments. Barbara was also pretty early, and shortly after us the crew arrived. I couldn't believe how many of them there were. There may have been about seven or eight in total. Photographer, writer, wardrobe and I suppose all the others would be assistants. I think everybody was going overboard trying to get a look at how the Prime Minister and his wife lived. I actually found one of the younger Tatler staff opening private cupboards and drawers and having to poke around, I couldn't believe it! I made sure to say something as I absolutely thought it was the height of rudeness. He wasn't best pleased, but skulked away with his tail between his legs.
It was an incredible day, and we shot in several different locations in number 10 Downing St. I saw more of Downing Street on that day than any other time and it was a privilege. I think the only room I didn’t see was the Cabinet Room, Hey ho, I suppose you can’t have everything.
Norma appeared on the cover of the magazine and I think she looked fantastic. I think the chattering classes agreed, and I think that after that article she was viewed in a very different way and treated with much more respect.
Another of the great many stories that happened on my visits to number 10 was the day that I sat and had an interesting private conversation with John major. I don't know why, but we had found ourselves sitting in the spare bedroom he on one of the twin beds and I on the other just having a general chitchat. He then explained to me that he was leaving the UK on the next day to go to America to meet Bill Clinton. I couldn't believe it, here I was a young man of 26 sitting casually chatting with my Prime Minister about his historical first meeting with the leader of the free world! You couldn't write it.
One of the most incredible things that ever happened was when I ended up with an invitation to go for lunch at the Prime Minister's country residence ‘Chequers’ in Buckinghamshire. John and Norma Major were hosting a luncheon and they had been kind enough to invite both my girlfriend at the time Rachel and I. It was the summer of 1992. Chequers was only about 2 or 3 miles from Rachel's parents house. So we went there the night before in order that we would be close by. I don't know whether she was nervous but I remember us having a bit of a row before we left, she wasn't getting ready and I of course didn't want to be late.
We drove along to ‘Chequers’ and entered the gates, they were well manned with police and the car was again checked by the bomb squad with mirrors underneath. We drove down to a parking area that was just in front of the front door. We got out of the car and then we noticed that John Major had appeared at the doorway, any tensions were dissolved by, and I'm sure many people wouldn't believe this, his effervescent charm. He bellowed from the doorway how great to see you Ian, hello Rachel, lovely to meet you. As we entered he stood between us and put an arm around both of us. It's really interesting because I think that when you saw John major on TV, he appeared smaller than he actually was in real life. He is tall, strong and has long muscular limbs, when he put his arm around you it really felt like you were being guarded. As we approached the larger common hall area he was calling, ‘Norma, hey, look who's here, it's Ian and Rachel’. Norma rushed over to greet us, she is a lovely person.
I thought that was a very clever move. I imagine it was designed to put us at our ease. We were by some way the youngest people in attendance. There was a mixture of celebrities, business elites and government ministers. The only other youngling was a dress designer that Norma had a fondness for.
Lady Kalms, who was a client of the salon, was there with her husband Baron Stanley Kalms the founder of electrical giant Dixons. She introduced me to her husband who clearly had no time for me, looked down his nose and slipped off. It didn't bother me, I understood and respected he was probably a donor and was thinking; what was the hairdresser doing here? Generally everybody else seemed very pleasant.
The real shock came when I looked at the seating plan, there were six tables for ten and two of eight. The two smaller tables were being hosted by the Prime Minister and by Norma. We had been seated on Norma's table along with an historian who had helped her write a book about Chequers, he owned the magnificent name of Plantagenet Somerset Fry. Wow that's a Monica. Also on our table was the Lord Mayor of London and his wife along with the actor Roger Moore and his wife. It was handy that Sir Roger Moore was in fact my favourite ‘Bond’ and it was an absolute pleasure to chat with him.
As we were seated I looked across and noticed that Baron Kalms was seated far off on one of the larger tables, the irony wasn't lost on me but I'm not sure how he would've felt.
The interesting thing about these lunches is that they are catered by RAF staff, I believe from the nearby Halton RAF base. They take the form of a buffet, so you have to leave the table to go and fill up your plates. It was truly one of the oddest and most surreal experiences as we all lingered at the large fully laden table, oh excuse me Prime Minister do you mind if sneak through that to get a piece of ham! Absolutely hysterical.
After lunch we all had a bit of a wander into some of the rooms, it was sort of a mini tour and it was fascinating, to imagine the people who had walked before you. We saw the painting that Winston Churchill had added a tiny mouse to, we enjoyed coffee and a relaxed, and of course we signed the visitors book. It's great to know that somewhere in the archive it's registered that I visited.
I suppose the final funny story was one day when I turned up to the New Cavendish Street salon. It was early, I was on the trip back from New York and I didn't have a key for the property. I knew Greg the kitchen guy was always in early, his small kitchen was in the staff area situated in the basement underneath the little streetlights on the pavement. We had a bit of a code. I literally stood above the street-lamps and jumped up and down, sure enough 30 seconds later Greg was coming upstairs to open the door for me. Just as I was going in Norma got out of a car that had been waiting, she smiled with her warm and genuine smile and said to me “oh Ian if I'd known it was that easy to get the door opened I would've gone and jumped up and down myself”. We both howled with laughter at the thought of that.
It was a brilliant experience getting to know Norma and John. I still see her from time to time, she is always charming. Oh and getting a Christmas card from from your Prime Minister and his wife, handwritten from No 10 is a trip!