Happy Fourth of July

I think of the Fourth of July and immediately I find myself scouring the marthastewart.com website; that's iconic for you. Hip hip hooray for Independence Day, for strawberries and blueberries and cook-outs and American flags lining the streets feeling for once uncynical. Hip hip hooray for the children sleeping in their beds, for the climbing hydrangea and the purple butterfly bush, the three squirrels on the bird-feeder, and the cascading waterfall. We sit in wait for the one hundred degree day and for once Mr J is not complaining about use of the air conditioner. I plan to make burgers for lunch with potato salad and pickles. We shall listen to Copland and Roffe and the Beach Boys. This evening we venture to Pasadena for a grand party overlooking the Rose Bowl, and those marvellous fireworks.

Hip hip hooray for Alan Johnston, the BBC journalist who has been released today after months in captivity. And a sad thing - Gottfried Von Bismarck, who like to make passes at my boyfriend at Oxford while dressed in fishnets and red lipstick, has died. Apparently from a heroin overdose. The Telegraph describes him as a louche. "Bismarck" I remember him spitting down the phone while ordering a cab one night, "as in the Battleship."

But on to better things perhaps, and the momentary return of innocence that this day brings. It's about children and hope and grilling and lemonade and those marvellous red, white and blue cupcakes with swizzlers in them that Martha makes. She makes paper wind lanterns too. Has a picture on her site of a whole avenue of apple trees covered in them. If I may indulge one cynical thought: how many underpaid interns did it take to create that festive image?

As I'm feeling a bit deprived in the red, white and blue department, I'm going to pop into Ralphs before the whole house wakes up, and stock up on Americana.