By The End Of The 1980s, Seattle

The Falklands Held A Mirror Up To Our Own Islands, And It Reflected, In Brilliantly Sharp Focus, All Our Injured Belittlement, Our Sense Of Being Beleaguered, Neglected And Misunderstood.

It's Been So Long Since A Talented Writer Last Occupied The White House; No Wonder, Then, That American Writers Have Been Among The Most Prominent Of All The Demographic Groups Claiming A Piece Of Barack Obama For Themselves.

My New City [seattle] And Its Hinterland Felt Deceptively Homely. Their Similar Latitude Gave Them The Angular Light And Lingering Evenings I Was Used To. Their Damp Marine Weather, Blowing In From The Southwest, Came In The Right Direction. When The Mountains Are Hidden Under A Low Sky, One Might Almost Imagine Oneself To Be In Britain.

Seattle Is A Liberal City, Its Politics Not So Much Blue In The American, Not The British, Sense As Deep Ultramarine, And Its Manners Are Studiously Polite.

By The End Of The 1980s, Seattle Had Taken On The Dangerous Lustre Of A Promised City. The Rumour Had Gone Out That If You Had Failed In Detroit You Might Yet Succeed In Seattle - And That If You'd Succeeded In Seoul, You Could Succeed Even Better In Seattle... Seattle Was The Coming Place. So I Joined The Line Of Hopefuls.