Obama Notebook

As Obama-mania engulfs America, I feel that I’m living in the middle of a historical bubble.

As Obama-mania engulfs America, I feel that I’m living in the middle of a historical bubble. The palpable excitement that began two months ago, when Obama was elected president, has grown into a great thumping worldwide lovefest. I have never seen such immense pride in a new president. His every move and those of his wife and kids is chronicled, yet amazingly he hasn’t (yet) apparently put a foot wrong, even when snapped chomping on a chilli-dog in a diner. Obama is awe-inspiring. On his train trip from Chicago to Washington, he descended at many stops to speak confidently and eruditely, as he always does, and every speech was different.

At the inaugural celebrations we had a terrific front-row seat in front of our flat-screen TV, to which I was glued for several days. The Sunday afternoon concert outside the Capitol Building was fabulous. Every star was superbly dressed, no shabby jeans or tacky T-shirts; but their mostly black clothes were sober, as if mirroring the credit crunch that’s engulfing all of us. The cameras were so close on all the performers that you could almost see the hairs in Bono’s nose. Obama’s little princesses, looking adorable in pre-teen chic, snapped away excitedly at the singers while Barack and Michelle grooved to an exquisitely attired Beyoncé.

The actual inauguration started at 11 a.m., so in LA I was up and ready at 8 with a cup of coffee and almost as much sense of anticipation as the one and a half million people who stood patiently and excitedly in front of the Capitol Building cheering, screaming and waving their little star-spangled banners.