Reflections on a 'Special Relationship'

So, Theresa has visited the Donald, and reaffirmed the Special Relationship between the United States and the United Kingdom. She'll doubtless be pleased that she has been seen with the new President before any other major leader, and timing does matter. He's said the right things from her perspective too, as The Times puts it on its front page this morning;

Trump blesses Britain

It does come at a cost though. She has been blessed by a man whose popularity in this country is rather less than that of Jeremy Corbyn, and whose views on a range of key policy areas are a long way from the apparent mainstream of British politics (now I come to think about it, a bit like Jeremy Corbyn). Indeed, in some circles, his views are seen as mad and dangerous. Being pictured holding hands with such a man might not look quite so good when your political opponents have had a chance to play with the images. Mind you, it does beg the question, "Why were you holding hands anyway?".

Theresa will argue that she is influencing Donald in a more measured direction, but I fear that she has allowed her ego and her tin ear to camouflage the reality, that Donald will do whatever Donald wants unless his core advisors can persuade him otherwise. And given that many of them have little experience of government, and appear to have been chosen for their business reputations rather than any understanding of public service, I wouldn't count on that happening much.

My fear is that there will be a price to pay for Donald's blessing. If you're a free trade Conservative, being allied to an America Firster, whose first major trade pronouncements have all been protectionist, you might wonder how this can be reconciled with the idea of signing a great trade deal between our two countries. Deals that can be terminated with thirty days notice might be fine in the hands of people with a measured approach to trade disputes, but might not be so stable in the hands of a man willing to build a big wall and then attempt to charge it to the people most damaged by it.

If you believe that we need to have a mutually beneficial relationship with the European Union post-Brexit, finding yourself allied to a man who is actively calling for its destruction might not enhance the prospects of an amicable divorce. After all, for the Europeans, this is existential in its threat, and Theresa may yet find herself having to choose between an unreliable partner (Donald) and an angry one (the European Union). Trying to agree a beneficial divorce settlement with an angry ex is not a bowl of cherries. And, of course, once Article 50 is triggered, the balance of power in negotiations lies squarely with the European Union.

And, if you believe in 'taking back control', the sight of a British Prime Minister rushing to support a man with such unfortunate views might be an unhappy reminder that we are not the major player we were given to believe we might still be.

In truth, for the time being, Theresa can probably get away with it. A huge opinion poll lead, an inept, disorganised rabble as the Official Opposition, and a compliant media means that it will be some time before the impact of Brexit starts to impact on Conservative support. We haven't even left yet, so the prophets of doom for the British economy haven't really been tested, whilst the markets are still responding erratically to perceived clues in statements made by people who may not have one.

Time will tell, as they say. But I fear that Theresa will find herself forced to choose a side eventually, Europe or an isolationist America. Because the only things you find in the middle of the road are white lines and dead armadillos...

To the Maine Shore by air, but not necessarily the conventional way...

When it was decided that, by way of respite from our two big city destinations, we would probably need some oxygenated air, Ros came up with the idea of Bar Harbor, a small resort town on the coast of Maine. I was sceptical at first, but discovered that, whilst there were no trains, or even buses, there was an airport.

And so, I set about finding flights, only to discover that no major American airline flies there. On the other hand, United would sell me a ticket to get to Bar Harbor from New York, with an aircraft switch at Boston. And yes, I did note that the connecting flight was on a Cessna 402...

Anyway, having made it to Newark's Liberty Airport, our first flight was somewhat delayed. Indeed, it was late enough to jeopardise our connection, entailing a breathless dash through Logan Airport in Boston to get to our gate. We were, thank heavens, just in time to be questioned as to our weight, which seemed not to be problematic.

And then, with seven other people, we were led down a flight of stairs and out across the tarmac to a mosquito-sized aircraft, where our hand luggage was taken from us and a rollcall taken by first names. Seats were assigned and we were off, the pilot's window open so as to allow some fresh air into the cabin.

We taxied across the airport before taking our place in the queue for take-off, dwarfed by the Boeing 737s and the like all doing the same thing. Frankly, we could have been run over and I don't think that many people would have noticed.

On a Cessna 402, every seat is a window seat, especially 1B, which would be the co-pilot's seat were Cape Air to have any, but instead increases the passenger capacity to nine. There is a rather good in-flight magazine, although it does take second place to the incredible views of the New England shoreline.

However, after an otherwise uneventful flight, we arrived at Bar Harbor's Hancock County Airport in bright sunshine. As a final reminder that we weren't on a big faceless airline, the couple waiting in the arrivals lounge turned out to be our pilot's mum and dad.

So, Cape Air is probably not recommended for nervous fliers. However, it got us to our destination on time, and in time for a lobster supper...

Take me out to the ball park...

I've always had an interest in baseball, at least, ever since I was introduced to it twenty-five years ago. For my sins, I follow the (ill)fortunes of the Cincinnati Reds, a team cursed with being in the same division as the rather more successful St Louis Cardinals. When I'm in the US, I usually try to catch a game and, when Ros and I were here three years ago, I took her to see her first game, at Safeco Field, the home of the Seattle Mariners.

This year, we're on the East Coast, and, being in New York, we had a choice, between the Mets and the Yankees. That is, we technically had a choice, as it had been made clear to us that the Yankees really weren't an option (we have a Boston Red Sox fan house sitting this week...).

So, we've spent a warm afternoon at Citi Field in Queens, watching the Mets slaughter the Colorado Rockies, 12-3. Beer may have been drunk - in moderation, naturally - and hot dogs eaten. This is pretty exciting, as the Mets are top of their division for the first time in years and, best of all, the Yankees aren't.

All of this seemed unlikely when, in the first inning, Mets pitcher, Noah Syndergaard, gave up two home runs. The Mets struck back quickly though, with three runs of their own, and by the end of the third inning, the game was symmetrically tied at three apiece. That, as it turned out, was as good as it was going to get for the Rockies, whose season is already effectively over, as their pitching staff gave up a steady stream of hits and runs.

Citi Field is one of the new generation of ballparks, with great sight lines, whilst giving a gentle nod to the past. The entrance area is a tribute to Ebbets Field, the old home of the Brooklyn Dodgers, and Jackie Robinson is honoured with a section of the stadium named after him with an exhibition for visitors.

It isn't a cheap experience - think of it as being akin to a Premier League game - but it is worth it if you're curious about this cornerstone of American life.