Maida Vale and the Suburbs

Here we are in Maida Vale, W9, during the autumn of 2002 before the move to Richmond. I remember our excitement over the leaves. Madeleine then already a terror on her feet. Unlike Eitan, she had no patience for crawling and so off she went by nine-months, bruises, knocks and all. Eitan took his time to the point where I had a mild concern that he was not, well, toddling. Then as now - he was just making sure of his footing before taking the jump.

We and everybody are gearing up for tomorrow's inaugural celebration which I choose not to attend in the end due to late planning. Probably stupid but I enjoy my family. And appreciate Sonnet who we thank for making it another perfect week-end by A) ensuring Madeleine at swim-practice and both kids football; B) making cheese sandwiches for lunch, Sunday pancakes and afternoon roast+ice cream sandwiches with home-made chocolate chip cookies; C) taking Madeleine to Richmond Park so Madeleine can paint her pastels; D) organising the house and letting me do yoga and read. On the couch. Watching football. Hmmm I am feeling kinda guilty as I write but always I ask myself: how on earth did I get so lucky? It is a good question for a husband to ask and, one hopes, repeatedly. By contrast, I am reading Richard Yates unsung classic "Revolutionary Road" which is now in theatres with Kate Winslet, who I love. Yates died a poor, unrecognised man and an alcoholic; the initial mixed reviews of Revolutionary, Yates first published book, crushed his spirit and while he wrote other notable novels and stories, Yates' life blanketed by depression. Easy to see in Revolutionary too, which is semi-autobiographical as most his work: the story follows the claustrophobic entrapment of the Connecticut suburbs in Eisenhower's 50s. Whomever has seen Golden Globe-winning series "Mad Men" will wonder if Matthew Weiner simply ripped off Yates (answer: he did). There is the Midtown office-affair, the boozed up lunches, commuter misery and the grey flannel suits. Mostly there is the struggle to define what being a "man" or a "women" about - here the ideal seems to macho bread-earning, martini swigging decision making, emotionless silent brute and stay-at-home, emotional, home-making, martini swigging spouse. Respectively. But of course the book goes deeper, oh boy. I am two-thirds through so don't know the ending but it is all about to go tits up.

We awake to more bail-outs - this time, Super Gee to give British banks another cool £200 billion to get the credit free-up since his guarenteed last-time did not work. We, the tax paer, are now £one trillion in the hole to our financial institutions as government nationalises the industry. Who would have ever thought? Nobody really feels the impact of all this yet but believe you me, we will for generations.

Also: Katie's pelican in Santa Cruz, not Florida. This bird way too cool for the everglades, no doubt.