Indian Summer
Season's change is upon us; photograph on the toe-path in Richmond.
Given Friday's misery, Europeans are whispering "what next?" should a unified bail-out not pull things forward. Gordon Brown and G7 meet in Paris today to hammer out a solution while Super Gee's rescue scrutinised as the Bush-Paulson plan has so far netted zero while in fact wasting critical weeks. The depth of this thing depends on a global, unified government action which, fortunately, seems to be happening following a rocky beginning (Europe initially watched America with mouth wide open: couldn't happen here, dog gonnit). This is probably how Berlin felt in the fading days of the 1930s... in '39 many Germans went to the forest to enjoy an unusually warm "Indian summer" with no idea what their autumn would bring... or if they did, not wishing to acknowledge it. Of course the Nazis invaded Poland that September.
England is finally coming down hard on the drinks industry, announcing there will shortly be a ban on free drinks for women and other bar give-aways; elimination of price-reductions or freebies at "happy hour;" and aggressive on-site advertising including, perhaps, notifications on every restaurant table regarding the menace of "over indulging". I often, in fact about every week end at the pool or football pitch, hear some dad sheepishly say "I had a bit of a late night of it." This could be England's moto given the extreme levels of intoxication and especially with da yuf who indulge and fornicate like nobody's busines. One might think that the neighborhood dads might be a tad more responsible but no way. In the conspiratorial huddle they smirk: "can't let life get in the way of beer." The financial crisis only gives license to drink more, and indeed super market Waitrosse reports a 15% increase in wine sales (interestingly champagne up too by 13% - maybe the poorer classes Shadenfraud?). Anyways, the social costs of alcohol in this country runs to the billions of Stirling per annum. The idea of a drinking-caf society with 24-hour licenses now completely debunked. All one has to do is enter any central town, post-midnight, to see the wastage.
Driving by an old cemetary:-
Me to Madeleine: "What do you want on your gravestone?"
Madeleine: "Dad, I don't even want to think about it."
Me to Eitan: "And you?"
Eitan: "Here lies Eitan. He lived at Old Trafford" (Old Trafford being Manchester United's stadium)
