Plate

Here is madeleine, with Doggie, at the Sunday table before waffles (thank you Stan). This weekend Roger visits us following a whistle-stop tour with Microsoft. Roger is my dear college friend and the '96 Best Man - we and Eric Connally had a Chinese before the wedding - Dear Reader, I am still in the dog-house and can we blame Sonnet? More from Roger later. Madeleine has her second swimming gala Sunday and "competes" back- and breaststroke. She is all butterflies beforehand and receives a loud applause at the finish - Madeleine is the youngest kid on deck by several years and her "stroke" is more enthusiasm than style. That will come though. I am reminded that swimming attracts a dedicated and unusual support - us spectators bare our tedium by comparing training tips, swim suit fabrics and racing times. The more enthusiastic volunteer as timers or race officials. There is a certain amount of, ahem, bossiness from the organisers but to their credit a military style is required and delivered. The competition is hosted at St Paul's prep, which has an average 25-meter indoor pool. This a far cry from the three or four-day swim meets of my and Katie's yuf often at 50-meter Olympic pools with sprawling green grass, viewing stands and indoor gymnasiums for rain or rest before the evening's finals. Such lavishness undoubtedly impacted performance or at least enhanced the sport's exoticness. Boy was there no free time for anything else. Now I get a kick watching the Olympics run-up (this is a Big swimming year) and of course Eitan and Madeleine's progress.