‘By 1979 one woman had become a regular fixture on our television screens, as she lectured the nation in her distinctly clipped tones,” says the historian Dominic Sandbrook at the start of The 80s with Dominic Sandbrook (BBC2). “Cool, capable and always impeccably groomed, this was a woman on a mission, determined to drag Britain kicking and screaming into the new decade. And what she inspired was little short of a revolution …”
Ah, I think I know what’s going on here, Dominic. You want us to think you’re talking about Margaret T. But then you’re going to surprise us. Who though, which 80s lady icon? Toyah W? No, neither clipped or impeccable. Selina S? Not lecturey enough. Samantha F … no, give up, who?
Delia S! Of course. But is Delia Smith really key to understanding what happened in the 80s? Yes she is, says Dominic, and as she herself might have said, he’s going to show us how.
First take one person who embodies the values that defined the decade: aspiration and domesticity. Then throw in a lot of stuff that was going on at the time: the decline of industrial working-class Britain, the start of a brave new world of credit and consumerism, advertising, enterprise zones and shopping centre, an Austin Metro, The Face, image and identity, Penthouse and Pavement, hooligans, snooker, Barry Hearn, riots, Brookside, Breakfast TV (there’s Selina Scott!). Then whip into a theory of soft peaks. With an iron spoon.
Yes, she – the Iron Lady – does feature a lot, in something she’s not supposed to be the star of. But, argues Dominic, she was not driving the revolution, merely responding to it. The real authors of change – to blame, or to thank – were us. And Delia.
I’m not sure about the snooker players – that Steve Davis and Dennis Taylor were the individual icons of an individualistic age. Nor am I sure that the Human League’s The Sound of the Crowd (also the title of this first of three episodes) is the right soundtrack for the Brixton riots. But I enjoy history with Sandbrook. There’s something of Breakfast TV about it: it’s not worthy, furrowed-browed analysis. It’s bold, cheerful, there is knitwear (a blue tank-top), and jokes (“they wanted family entertainment and who better to provide it than Frank Bough”). And the music – the Human League, Heaven 17, Duran Duran – is important, not just a soundtrack but part of the story.
Maybe there is something of a Delia recipe about it too – clear and easy to follow, aspirational and domestic ... history of the 80s, in the style of the 80s.
Oh, and what was happening on the other side of the House from Maggie (even though this is not about her, of course)? A party ravaged by infighting, ripping itself apart, caught between leftwing purity and the demands of appealing to the centre ground, condemned to years of opposition. Hmm.
There have been a few of these athlete profiles recently, to get us in the mood for Rio (“and she dances on the sand”). The ITV one on Tom Daley worked, not just because he is a very nice boy but because it wasn’t only about diving; it was also about more interesting things, like coming out and bereavement. The Sky documentary on Wiggo was also good because he’s a bit different from your average Olympian, and I enjoyed his rightly ashamed headteacher admitting she laughed when he said he was going to win the Tour de France and an Olympic gold medal. But in terms of story, and journey, neither can really compete with Mo Farah: Race of his Life (BBC1).
Mo returns to Djibouti, where he lived between the ages of four and eight, after moving from Somalia and before following his father to London. Here is his twin brother Hassan who stayed behind, because he was ill at the time and couldn’t travel. And this is where they used to sell samosas at five in the morning, and swim in the afternoon. And here’s the street where they ran around and played football, and the old family house, and a childhood friend he hasn’t seen for 19 years.
It’s a world away from elite athletics, CBEs, Nike sponsorship and from the lovely house in Portland, Oregon where he now lives with his lovely family. Not that it looks easy, defending two Olympic gold medals; he is putting a bit of work in, too.
It’s taken a while, but I’m beginning to look forward to it. Go Mo.
