he’s done it

--January 19th, 2009--
inauguration seal

What a com­pletely thrilling after­noon and evening for us here in Lon­don, watch­ing our lovely man become Pres­i­dent. Eng­land is so excited! Europe is thrilled, expec­ta­tions couldn’t be higher. Fes­tiv­i­ties here started as soon as our lit­tle girls came home from school, since Avery’s friend Emily was com­ing with her fam­ily to cel­e­brate. They banged on the door in the gath­er­ing twi­light, “Why didn’t you pick us up, your phone doesn’t work, we waited in the cold…” all the usual litany of com­plaints from an after­noon when noth­ing went quite as planned.

I must explain why we had Eng­lish friends with us for the inau­gural: Emily’s fam­ily lived for years in Darien, Con­necti­cut, and heart­warm­ingly, they came away from their years in Amer­ica with a firm love of all things across the Pond. It was to them that we repaired on Thanks­giv­ing, and it was of them I thought first when I wanted to invite some­one to watch the inau­gural fun with us. So in they trooped, bear­ing gifts as always: a plate of lus­cious brown­ies, tubs of ice cream. I was putting the fin­ish­ing touches on my Alder­ton ham baked in mar­malade, and enor­mous dish of very Amer­i­can mac­a­roni and cheese: the smoothest Raclette in the world form­ing the basis of the sauce this time.

We watched the oath of office in the liv­ing room, on that insanely ridicu­lous sofa cush­ion of such drama. Annie and I cried off all our makeup, lis­ten­ing to our new pres­i­dent become so, and speak of his new respon­si­bil­i­ties. A remark­able moment, speak­ing to our ene­mies: “we will reach out our hand, ready to shake yours if you unclench your fist.” Amaz­ing! To hear the pres­i­dent speak of rec­on­cil­i­a­tion, to hear him utter the word “curios­ity” as a virtue to be attained by the Amer­i­can peo­ple was a very invig­o­rat­ing and touch­ing expe­ri­ence! Things may not be per­fect, but there is a new breath, and it feels so good. The BBC describes his speech as embody­ing “the mix­ture of hope and real­ism that he has made his own.” How lovely. And when he said that the son of a man who could not have got a seat in a restau­rant in Amer­ica 60 years ago was now tak­ing the high­est oath of office in the land, we all felt quite over­whelmed, includ­ing the lit­tle girls who clapped and clapped. I’m so glad Avery is old enough to under­stand what hap­pened today.

And din­ner: “Oh, no!’ I remem­bered at the last minute. “I meant to make stuffed mush­rooms for a first course.” Emily’s cookery-mad brother and I looked at each other. “Let’s do it.” We worked fever­ishly and had a mar­vel­lous time pro­duc­ing them and wished instantly that we’d made about four times as many. It is really the best recipe, rich with goats cheese and bacon, shal­lots and gar­lic. With a huge salad of rocket and baby beet­root leaves, and a spicy dress­ing, it was a nice, warm­ing sup­per. In the back­ground played all the inau­gural drama. Avery brought out her first real self-made dessert, a lovely choco­late pot made from a recipe by Mark Hix, and a total suc­cess it was.

Alto­gether a gor­geous evening with such trea­sured friends, good food though I say it myself, and now, late at night, a chance to breathe and relax. I face a meet­ing of my writ­ing class first thing in the morn­ing, and feed­ing them lunch after. Left­over ham, anyone?

Con­grat­u­la­tions, Amer­ica. It has been a fab­u­lous day.

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