TRY WALKING IN HER SHOES
It was the boots I noticed first, as they looked as though they belonged to another person entirely. Theresa May was perched precariously on a rickety chair in a primary school classroom somewhere on the outskirts of Birmingham, and frankly the only thing anyone was looking at was her gigantic pair of leopard-skin boots. They weren’t exactly knee-length – which would have been too much even for her – but they wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Milanese nightclub, on a Parisian catwalk, or indeed in the pages of Vogue. She was sitting quietly, watching David Cameron, her boss at the time, telling a bunch of teachers, county councillors and local dignitaries why they should vote for him at the next general election. This would have been about…