We sat and watched and cried and laughed with young Barack Hussein - thinking he's right - but do we dare to believe in him, can he believe in himself, or at least in his ability to turn the huge tanker round that is America.
Can Gordon turn Great Britain round?
Oh dear, it is all going to be so difficult.
It was a bit of light relief to see Barack fluff his lines, all that wonderful preparation and presentation but if something can go wrong it will, thank the Goddess. I thought maybe he had stumbled over the verb "to execute" but it seems he just stumbled because he was fed the words in the wrong order.
Such a delight that he made sure of his position by doing it again later in the day in case someone tried to prove he wasn't president after all. My Grandma would have made reference to Fred Karno's Army.
I phoned Daughter Dearest, in Nevada, to get her reaction, and as I should have expected woke her up, she is still on baby's timetable . "Oh is it today?"
Special Son in California was at work, but had popped home to catch a glimpse of the events. His messenger group is a co-op and they are beginning to notice the work slowing up, so that is worrying as he is not sure he has saved enough to pay his taxes. They are all happy to cycle up and down hill all day but no-one wants to take responsibility for the tax returns.
Can't think what I have been up to lately. Retired Person has been happily hacking through the garden and we may have the joy of a bonfire, once it stops raining which may be never.
I am working on this old patchwork quilt that belonged to one of RP's ancient relatives. It is worn into holes with several younger and totally unsympathetic patches sewn over them.
Could have been RP's grand father as he was a a competent sewer and knitter. When he went to school in the village in the late 1800s they were all taught useful skills no matter which gender. I would have said he had no artistic skills given the clashing patches, but when he returned home after the First World War he worked on regaining his serenity by painting several pictures of the countryside round here, and they aren't bad.
I have printed some photos of young women of about the same era on fabric and dotted them among the patches. I have in mind some idea of time passing, but at the moment it just looks like a old wrinkled pinky patchwork, but it is pleasing stitching on a big soft piece of fabric so I shall twiddle on for a while.
I guess that after the first World War they felt much the same as us now, fearful and hopeful. They got through it tho, grandad married, had a daughter.
He became a policeman, only ever arrested one person and was retired on his pension for longer than he policed, as he lived to 92.
Then he gardened morning till night, RP has some work to do to match him.