Guy Fawkes

Saturday is spent on the school grounds where we and London celebrate Guy Fawkes with a bonfire effigy and rousing fireworks. Again I am the Chief Executive of the Grill Team, assembling seven volunteer flippers serving beef-burgers and pork sausages. Gross. The weather is not friendly and things are touch-and-go until the final moment. Rain is not so much the problem but rather the wind: nobody wants drifting embers to replay 1666. Eitan and I arrive early to set things up, shred lettuce and pre-cook the hot-dogs and chopped-onions. He is eager to help and happy to be useful, which is nice to see. Four years ago Eitan scared shitless by the fireworks but now it is old hat and the dads tease him about drinking beer with us (this is England). Sonnet arrives with Madeleine who, with the other kids, impressed to see her brother behind the counter even if he is just standing there. I toss her "secret-crisps" that she doesn't have to pay for - she refuses and good for her. Afterwards we Dads clean-up and head to The Victoria for an after-action "refreshment."

Cal loses to USC in Southern California. Another year no Rose Bowl. Just.. . once.. I . would... like to. . see the Bears . . . . compete.