Sorry sorry sorry everyone. Granny ran hither and thither throughout her visit to London and scarcely had time to look at the internet, let alone add to it. And since she came back.....well having had her hopes raised for once, she received yet another rejection for Going Mental - not that editors don't want to take it....many of them LOVE it - it's their salesmen are the problem. She won't say more here: the implications of the particular rejections she keeps on getting on are depressing for reasons way beyond her personal disappointment. She has written a piece on this which she hopes will appear somewhere, soon. If not she'll put it up here, but not yet.
Meantime: Granny's mood has varied from blue to deepest black; hence her failure to write here, respond to comments, etc, etc, etc. SORRY EVERYONE. Especially sorry to Lin - who - among other things - asked her to spread the word about the dire Proposition 8 - the one that removes the right of gays to marry in California. Such a weird lot, Californians: they vote for the election of Barack Obama, and for the freedom of chickens - congratulations, you lot, on that. But when it comes to legalising gay marriage. NO. NO. NO. Lin asked her to spread the word; so she's spreading it.
(She wanted to paste the relevant section from Lin's appeal here, but alas, the system won't let her. So she will have to scream alone. If you want to scream with her - and publish this issue to all your readers, please do. Please do.)
So: what else in Granny's world?
1. A revolution. Really. For the first time in around twenty odd years, she is not the mother of a Doc Marten-ed daughter. Beloved Eldest Granddaughter has just acquired her first pair - mother 'n daughter Doc Martens? Well, perhaps no. Beloved Daughter has had to adopt another line in footwear. Pity about that. Sic transit. All too rapidly.
2. Beloved very nearly bought a gypsy caravan - a Varda - on Ebay - a charming idea. Beloved's ideas often are charming - remember that donkey? But in practice? He was proposing to park said varda in his Beloved Daughter's not very big back garden and live in it for extended periods during the summer: not a popular idea AT ALL; you can imagine. Appealed to by that other Beloved Daughter Granny had to inform him of the general thumbs down as gently as she could. As with all Beloved's wilder ideas - conveyed so enthusiastically too - disabusing him felt a bit like stamping on a kitten - even if Granny's does it with Croc-ed rather than booted feet. Pity about that too. But necessary.
3. Granny and Beloved headed for their cheapo tapas bar of choice this lunchtime, the one patronised by the local construction workers: a parade of concrete mixers was always lined up outside. But oh woe. It has closed. FOR GOOD. Is it because the construction workers have mostly been laid off? Is it because the owner disappeared mysteriously as while back and the bar had to be run by his minions. Or what? No means of telling. Granny and Beloved had, dolefully, to seek another, much less agreeable place. And will probably stay at home for lunch in future.
But at last our Barack is still on line to succeed, with or without his Blackberry. Which means that the days of Neocon sophistry, on the one hand, and Star Wars rhetoric, on the other, are pretty nearly over. That's one bright spot in Granny's minor, personal darkness (even if she still does have to listen to the Tory baby-faced extolling, yet again, pre-and post- Keynesian theory. Not so good that.) Good otherwise.