It's Thanksgiving Day in America.

It's Thanksgiving Day in America.

To those of you who may be reading this piece in the USA, we would like to extend our best wishes to you for this is Thanksgiving Day. From here in Britain may we be the first to convey nothing but goodwill,  kind hearted felicitations and the happiest of days. This is normally the day when American hugs itself in self congratulation, eats plenty of turkey, drinks in suitably convivial amounts and then gathers around the family log fire before exchanging a whole load of pleasantries and civilities.

America will once again be hoping that the country that is now glorying in the presence of one Donald Trump as President will continue to bathe in more success and prosperity. It is the country that looks at itself in the morning, pinches itself in the rudest of health and then gives much thanks for its timeless extravagance and excess, its extraordinary self confidence and its natural ability to sell itself, promote itself, make a fuss of itself before slapping itself on the back yet again.

Of course we were horrified by the catastrophe that was 9/11 in much the way a previous generation would have been shocked and shaken by the cold blooded assassination of John F. Kennedy in November 1963. How desperately America has tried to pull together all the strands of resilience over the years when all looked bleak and melancholy.

But today is different, a riotous celebration of everything the Americans hold dear. It is indeed the land of the free, the hugely patriotic Stars and Stripes, of pledging allegiance to the flag, bonding together as families and friends, remembering Dynasty and Dallas, JR Ewing, Bobby, Bob Hope, Bing Crosby, Arnold Palmer fashioning genius on a golf course, George Burns and Gracie Allen reducing the whole of America to helpless laughter, the corrupt and manipulative Richard Nixon, the wonderfully imaginative Woody Allen and the splendidly amusing Muppets.

Here in Britain we could only look on in wonder at those first TV pictures in colour years before the idea had even been thought of in Blighty. How we despaired when we first set eyes on legendary chat show hosts such as Johnny Carson and Ed Sullivan in bold and outlandish shades of blue, red, yellow and green when the equally as chatty and garrulous David Frost and Simon Dee were still stuck in monochrome black and white.

Around the world the general perception of our American friends is one of a country that is so impossibly rich and comfortable in its skin that if you were to challenge its baseball greatness and its boundless exuberance you'd have to believe that nobody could possibly beat them at anything because they're probably good at everything.

We will always admire the vastness of their skyscrapers, their soaring financial buildings that tower over the humanity below them and the millions of feet that stamp purposefully on their sidewalks in New York, California, Los Angeles, Chicago, Texas and Alabama. We will take our hats off to a country that revels in its sumptuous grandeur, its imposing height, its immensity, a country seemingly spoilt for choice in everything it does.

We hold our breath at its multi billion dollar corporations, its driving ambition that never seems to abate, the moneymakers on Wall Street, the giant conglomerates who just get wealthier by the second, the glittering showbiz capitals of Broadway and Hollywood and the movies with their gigantic budgets. It is a country that refuses to sleep because if it does it might miss out on something fundamentally important.

At its epicentre though is New York where all the tourists seem to head if only because of its multiplicity of shops, massive department stores, hundreds of restaurants and cafes of all sizes, the mountainous helpings of salt beef in their spacious sandwich bars, the wondrous jazz cafes, the yellow taxis racing along Times Square with almost frightening speed and the people all in a frantic rush to get somewhere anywhere with doughnut and coffee to hand.

Then of course America will always find time in its hectic schedule to make its way to Disneyland since Disneyland was the place where America re-discovered its childhood. It is the one place in the world where America found its iconic cartoon heroes, those endearing drawings that suddenly came to life in a lovely splash of colour. Walt Disney was the dream maker, the relentlessly optimistic one who even convinced Pam Travers to convert Mary Poppins into a major Hollywood film.

But then we turned around and found that Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Minnie Mouse and Daisy Duck and all of Mickey's acquaintances were all there large as life and in the flesh. Our children could still queue endlessly for their autographs, they could even share breakfast with them if they wanted to. Then we gazed with amazement at that wonderful fairy tale castle where Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs allegedly lived although perhaps they didn't after all.

There is still a breathless pace and intensity to everything America does, a sense of frenetic urgency where nothing must wait and absolutely everything has to be completed in five minutes or perhaps five seconds. Appointments have to be made, schedules planned months before hand and nothing left to chance. At some point you suspect America does have time to draw breath but not now thank you since they're busy and they haven't got time to take stock, consider, pause and reflect. It all has to be done here and now, in the present and you'll have to forgive us because we might be late.

And yet America does have to cause to reminisce, to find itself in an almost mournfully regretful mood. It continues to looks back at the horrendous tragedy of Vietnam, the civil wars, the poisonous racist riots, Rosa Parks being disgracefully humiliated on a bus and so much more. There had to be a period in its history when America must have thought it had lost its soul and heart when Kennedy was shot dead, when former president Richard Nixon shamefully succumbed to tears as David Frost exposed him for what he was.

Still, America will always have its comedians, its grandstanding entertainers, George Clooney, Tom Cruise, Harrison Ford, Brad Pitt, Meryl Streep, Cameron Diaz and numerous characters who have their utmost to embrace those core American values. None of us of course will ever forget the Hollywood stardust that was sprinkled liberally by James Stewart, John Wayne, Jimmy Cagney, Edward G. Robertson, Gregory Peck, the macho Burt Lancaster, Clint Eastwood, Mae West, Bette Davis and the eternal boulevardiers such as Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire.

So here we are on Thanksgiving Day and America that has rightly abandoned itself to its alfresco barbecues, its hedonistic, high society parties in LA and blissfully boozy bacchanalia. America loves to have a good time, drink its alcoholic bourbons, the interminable snapping of turkey legs and a willingness to let themselves go. There is nothing that America loves better than a party and who could possibly deny them that right?

Now whatever your point of view might be on the subject Donald Trump is still the president of the United States of America and that's the truth. There are those of us who can barely believe that a frequently bankrupt billionaire is occupying one of the most influential roles in world politics. When Hilary Clinton finally accepted the fact that she wouldn't be following in the footsteps of her husband by becoming the next and first female president of the USA, a part of us privately yearned for a proper alternative.

Instead the Americans have to content himself with a man who, by his own admission, is a complete political novice. Trump is of course unashamedly conceited, a man so self obsessed and self righteous that if anybody challenged him on any topic he'd probably tell you exactly what he thinks of you. And it wouldn't be too complimentary by any stretch of the imagination.

But then again perhaps we've underestimated Trump. Maybe he is nice as American pie, as apple cheeked and lovable as a country farmer. Quite possibly, Trump has principles, morals, a sense of proportion, something profound to say, a clear statement of intent that might have been mistaken for muddled thinking. Or have we all got it completely wrong?

For a while tonight though Donald Trump and his family can kick off their shoes, pick up a basketball or two, grab a juicy burger, distribute a present or several and dance the night away in the Oval Office. Some have said that his policies are utterly questionable, that the Trump mind just works on autopilot, a soundbite artist who just bumbles and blusters because he can and he will. Mind you if that wall in Mexico is anywhere near completion then maybe Thanksgiving Day could be his chance to celebrate again. Donald, the microphone is yours.