Obamania

Confession.

I have been hit with a strange new illness. Obamania.

It spread out, this time from America, crept across the Antlantic, and has suddenly struck me. I should have been more vigilant.

My mate, (he supports Clinton), saw it very early on. He accused me of it some 3-4 weeks ago? I denied. Impossible.

I am a rational thinking human being, who is not struck by such irrational fancies.

But I am spending so much time looking at news of the American primaries, and, I confess, looking up Barack Obama, that I must shamefully admit it.

I am star struck. Obamania

But, me, being me, I have to rationalise. This is why I am suffering this intriguing, uncharacteristic, un-understood, hopeless, much unliked, un-recommended ailment. Not in my words. But those of a 10 year old girl more than a couple of continents away.

Mrs. Obama told a story about meeting a 10-year-old girl at a rally in South Carolina.

"I need to tell you something," the girl told Mrs. Obama.

"Okay," Mrs. Obama replied.

"Do you realize that after your husband becomes the next president of the United States it will be historical?" the girl informed her.

"Yeah," Mrs. Obama told her. "But what does that mean to you?"

"It means I can imagine anything for myself," the girl said, breaking down in tears.

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Any comment I add would be superflous.

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