Annette

A horrible shock on Saturday - Annette, perhaps my closest friend, died unexpectedly on Thursday/Friday. No-one knows for sure, since she died alone and I hope, peacefully.

Annette and I 'grew up' together in the Labour Party. In our late 20's, early thirties we campaigned together, to save Leith Hospital, to save Victoria Primary School, for better services for children with disabilities...together, with 3 bairns apiece, we constituted a crowd and we were useful to swell any demonstration or deputation to the then Tory/Lib administration.

We shared a lot, especially after we were both elected to Lothian Regional Council in 1986. Learning the ropes, sharing a strong sense of the ridiculous and both hampered by an inferiority complex (working class lassies, mothers too young, still with little sense of what we might accomplish) we leaned on each other a lot as we made sense of what was a male dominated world. We learned early that politics is a rough trade and Annette didn't like it much. She was great at harrying - wouldn't take no for an answer, hated the leadership role but was brilliant at guerilla and siege warfare. She played an immensely important 'backroom' role in youth strategy and integration campaigns.

She served only 1 term then retired from front line politics to work for Malcolm Chisholm. He owes her and her sisters a lot, since their campaigning took him to a comfortable victory. During that time, even though she was backing Malcolm as the Westminster candidate in the contest against me, our friendship did not falter - our relationship had long passed the politically expedient by then.

Over the years we met and spoke frequently and each time it was a conversation resumed without missing a beat. We admired each other's strengths, knew and accepted each other's weaknesses. She was a talented homemaker, loved spending money, great at gardening, able to turn her hand to anything: she was a little thing with huge energy.

When she phoned me to tell me she was going to Iraq as part of the 'human shield' I told her she was daft. We got as near to a fall-out as we ever did. I was fearful she would be hurt and though she acknowledged the risk she was utterly determined, so after that there was nothing to do but wish her luck and wait for her safe return. There is no doubt it was a life changing experience. She left the Labour Party, hating what had been done in her name by the British Government and, truthfully, lost any faith in democratic politics. She prefered to put her trust in individual people but a kind of bitterness had entered her soul.

She seemed to recover her spirit and joy with the birth of her grand-daughter. The last time I spoke with her she was full of delight about the new baby who I hope will get to know all about the plucky, valiant woman who was her granny.

She was my pal and this is not good.