So, there was Our Man trying hard (well, OK, not that hard) to think up something witty or oh-so-telling about the current state of play in Japan, and all he could do was listen to Little Feat's silly song on the previous post (by the way, it's good but not a patch on the late Lowell George's singing or slide guitar, check it out here). Anway, Our Man tried but failed to get much beyond the Southern rockers, so this is the post you're gonna get instead:
Confession time. Our Man may like milk in his tea, but he's not completely British. His grandmother was American. She was a politically astute Arkansan who saw out the defining moments of the 20th Century - The First World War, Great Depression, Second World War and Cold War. She single-handedly brought up three children, one of whom was Our Man's mother, and was part of some astounding changes in the South, including Civil Rights and the march of women from behind the sink to behind the desk.
Our Man used to visit her every Wednesday night in the early 1990s, and bring her copies of his latest newspaper opinion columns, and she would feed him dinner (Our Man definitely got the better end of the deal there). Then, together, they would watch a little of the McNeal/Lehrer Newshour on PBS. She would nod wisely when a Democrat was on and scowl when a Republican spoke. Roosevelt's New Deal policies had kept her family in food and, in return, she was a Democrat for the rest of her life. Her proudest possession in her latter days was a Christmas card signed by President Bill Clinton, thanking her for her contributions to the party. The feeling was mutual.
Anyway, forgive Our Man his off-message senior moment, normal service will resume shortly.