The Last Day

It is the final 24 hours of George W. Bush's presidency. With just a few hours until a new president is sworn in, it seems appropriate to pause for a moment and consider what has passed and what's to come.

First, I'm glad to see Bush go. I believe he is more intelligent than some have given him credit for, but I also believe that he's bad news. Bush is like a bull in a china shop - there's no finesse there at all. It scares me to think of George W. Bush in the same situation that Kennedy faced during the Cuban Missile Crisis. At that time, the world was on the brink of a nuclear catastrophe as America and Russia faced off against each other. It is, of course, impossible to say for sure how Bush would've behaved, but we can look at his reaction to 9/11 and Iraq, and see how swift he was to lead the United States (and Britain) into an ill-conceived war. At the end of the day, the Bush legacy is not stability and peace, it's the opposite.

As for Obama, I am so pleased that the U.S. electorate has chosen him to succeed Bush. He is clearly intelligent and has some interesting policy ideas. Plus, as a UK citizen, I like his attitude when it comes to Foreign policy. I believe that he can take on board the intelligent opinion of his advisors and others around the world, and balance that with his own beliefs, knowledge and understanding and make educated decisions. He seems able to listen, gather information and insight but ultimately, make his own judgements without coming across as arrogant - something that I could never give Bush credit for. However, I do have one concern. At the moment, the American public is applauding itself for electing a coloured president. I agree that the nation has come a very long way since the de facto apartheid of the sixties and seventies, but there are still many Americans who harbour a deep seated and evil loathing of anything that isn't 'normal'. It is hard to quantify from a distance exactly how widespread this might be, but I wonder how people really fell about having a coloured president (or a gay, Jewish, Hindu, Latino or female) and I also wonder how long Obama will last. I hope I am wrong, but I have a horrible dread that one day I will switch on the news to reports of assasination. God, I hope that doesn't happen! If it does, will it be an Islamic Fundamentalist or a close-minded biggot? Where will the finger point: to the world at large, or in on itself?

This, by the way, is not to say that Americans aren't intelligent. Please don't think that I tar all U.S. citizens with the same brush: Many of my friends are American and I love the country for it's fantastic geographical and cultural variety. The American people deserve a leader to be proud of. Tomorrow we will say goodbye to Bush and welcome to Obama. I wish him all the best and hope that he can meet the challenges of the next 4 (and maybe even 8) years head on with the same respectability and dignity with which he conducted himself during the election.

Life and Death

It has been an odd sort of week...

Patrick McGoohan died on Tuesday 13th January at the age of 80. I'm sure most people will remember him for his role as 'Number Six' in the cult TV series, The Prisoner, but I will always remember him most fondly for his utterly Machiavellian performance in the Mel Gibson film 'Braveheart' as Edward Longshanks. What a shame my generation didn't get the chance to see more of him.

Ricardo Montalban died on Wednesday 14th January aged 88. A stunning actor with a velvet voice, he has and always will be KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAN! He was a superb and totally underrated and underused acting talent who completely stole the show from William Shatner in Star Trek II. I had always hoped that one day I might meet this acting Titan and sadly that is no longer possible.

Television and film has lost two of it's best sons. May they rest in peace and may their legacies continue long into the future.

On Thursday January 15th, I witnessed something I never believed possible: a large passenger jet made a perfect landing... on water... with every single passenger and crew member walking away! For anyone that doubts it, the skill involved in landing on water is beyond comprehension. The angle at which the aircraft makes contact with the water has to be just right... nose too high and the tail will be ripped off by the force of the impact, nose too low and the aircraft will plunge into the water and somersault tail over nose, tearing the fuselage to shreds. The aircraft has to be perfectly level too... if one of the engines or wings touches the water before the other, it will be sent spinning out of control, pulling it to pieces. Carrying out this kind of perfect landing under power is hard enough, but with the added difficulty of having no engines (which also means no power or hydraulic assistance!) achieving any kind of survivable landing is truly remarkable. The pilot, Chelsey Sullenberger, is a hero and deserves a medal for his skill.


And so, in a week that has taken two wonderful actors, it has given us 155 lives in return. I'd call that a fair deal.

1 week down... 50-ish to go

So here we are, the end of the first week back at work and the start of the next. I'm not thinking about how long I have to wait until next Christmas... honest!

Anyway, it was while brewing up a pan of soup (actual real soup, not the metaphysical stuff), specifically while I was peeling carrots, that my mind wandered back to my college days. Back in 97-98 I spent nine months studying Stage Management at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. It is probably one of the defining periods in my life so far and will probably remain so.

The first half of the term was one the most awesome things I have done to date. I was off on my own, throughly enjoying the course (well, except for Theatre History which was totally yawn-worthy... although the tutor was VERY dishy), and full of the possibilities of the future. I had somehow managed to surround myself with great people - in cyber-life and real-life - and was getting to know my future husband. It was hard work and there were times when, I think, we all questioned why we were there and not off doing something normal and mundane, but everyday I was buzzing. I was truly happy.

It's funny how life sometimes likes to slam you down when you find a moment of perfection.

Just after half term - literally half way through the course - my brother died very suddenly. I'll never forget the moment when Mum told me. It was like the universe had broken into a million tiny pieces and there was... just nothing. That moment was a pivot point as my life: It had been trundling along quite happily, minding its own business and without warning turned a sharp 90 degree angle and seemed to career off in a totally different direction, completely beyond my control. The rest of the first year at the R.S.A.M.D. was filled with tears and a constant burden in my heart. There were good times, yes, but it was like living in the shadow of a giant tree: Occasionally the sunlight broke through the canopy, but it was always a fleeting moment, lasting only seconds, minutes, days or weeks and the shadow was always waiting on the other side.

It took me years to recover control - working away from home at QVC was part of that regained control, proving to myself that I wasn't dependant on family or friends, like taking those first tentative steps after being in traction for months - but now I can look back on that year and the recovery that followed and actually treasure it. There's a piece of my heart where my brother lives and where I keep that broken year in a little gilded box. It's part of who I am and, as long as I am happy with the person I have become, I can look back on that painful chapter of my life with a degree of fondness. As with many of the problems we face in our lives, it was important for growth and learning. It taught me the fragility of life and how to hold everyone I love as precious. It also taught me that the future is what it is. Occasionally there will be stuff that is beyond my control, but that's OK, because what's around that 90 degree corner might be difficult or painful for a while, but the tree cover will eventually end and one day you'll turn around and realise you've been in the sunlight for quite some time.

What interests me the most in all this, is how, when I look back, my memory views that period so many different ways. I can look back and see the nine months at the R.S.A.M.D. as a single experience, other times I will look back through time's telescope and focus on the happiness and variety and experiences of the first few months, while other times will bring back, sometimes with sharp clarity, the tough second half of the year. At the same time, I look back over other things that happened in the same period - dating my husband, spending time with friends, movies that I saw and enjoyed, music and books that I heard or read at the time - and they are sometimes entirely separate and sometimes woven into the fabric of that year as if they could never be plucked loose.

But anyway, my soup is done now. Time to go turn off the heat!