Ketchup

I take the kids to Covent Garden so Sonnet can have the afternoon to herself. We park off The Strand and walk to Burger Heaven for - yes - burgers. And chips. Eitan follows his strategy of eating his least favorite first than the main event: in this case, the french fries before the hamburger. We discuss transportation as we are heading for the Transport Museum, which opened last year following a two year upgrade. On transportation, the kids belt out: "Subway! Plane! Car. Boat. A horse (Eitan) A snail! (Madeleine). We also discuss what goes on a hamburger and Eitan confides that he hates mayonnaise but loves ketchup, which he spreads everywhere until I stop him. If its green, Madeleine won't touch it.

Madeleine sees two boys on a doorstep: "Look Eitan - orphans!"

ゴジラ

Eitan announces to Sonnet that he wants to go to University so: "I can be a footballer. And a paleontologist." Yes, his class is discussing dinosaurs and the boy's imagination is captured. In fact, he wants to practice his new skill in our backyard digging fossils (I put the kabol on this idea). I think every kid imagines himself one day as Indiana Jones searching for some lost arc. I did, anyway, and this led to Godzilla by the first grade. We had a Japanese live-in nanny - Taka - who switched me on to the weirdness of the Japanese including monsters. I surveyed the Sunday TV listings for Friday night's Creature Feature preying Godzilla was on the midnight show. My fascination took us to San Francisco's Japan Town where I would save my coins to buy Japanese action figures and books, which Taka would loving translate (Katie was more interested in calligraphy and other practical matters). So who, or what, is Godzilla? Created in 1954, Godzilla is one of the most recognizable action/fictional symbols of Japanese pop culture. He has been considered a filmographic metaphor for the United States beloved by Brown's semiotics program and other less serious students (ok, an unnecessary jab I agree). The earlier Godzilla, especially the original, attempted to portray him as a frightening, nuclear monster. Godzilla was a representation of the fears that many Japanese held about the nuclear attacks on Hiorshima and Nagaski, as well as the fear of those types of attacks occurring again. As the series progressed, so did Godzilla, changing into a less destructive and more heroic character (who can forget Godzilla Vs. King Kong?) as the films became increasingly geared towards children. And so me. BTW it was Paul Tong who turned all of Washington primary on to our beloved creature.

The gas warning goes off while Sonnet on her way to pick up Madeleine.
Eitan, from the back: "what happens if we run out of gas?"
Sonnet: "We would stop in the middle of the road. But we don't want to be late for pick-up."
Eitan, after some consideration: "It would be sensible, if we do not want to be late, to get gas now."

Dipso, Fatso

Here's the boy at The Bank of England club. He has a goal scored on him during his morning match, and feels rotten only made worse by the sideline who cheers for the scoring kid. Eitan comes off the pitch dejected and tells me "I'm rubbish at goal." Poor guy. Madeleine begins her morning at swim team, then football and finally performance class. She's the energizer bunny and I have to tell the kids to keep their traps shut so Sonnet and I can have an afternoon nap. I'm recovering from my busy last week, which took me to Dublin, Munich, Zurich and Paris. I think it was productive but time will tell. Otherwise this weekend is pretty low-key and without social engagements and thank goodness.

Eitan writes a story, titled "The Dragon's Garden" about a statue that comes to life and befriends a little boy. We await the full action. When I ask Madeleine at dinner if she has a story too, she pauses and then: "well, it is in my head dad." Encouraged to disclose her secret, she describes a girl, who has a watch on her wrist and when twisted, she ends up in somebody else's bed. And she's a boy.... and has a willy. She (or he) longs to see her mother. Then her dead grandmother appears and tells her to take the watch off... but failing this they go to heaven together, where the little girl (or boy?) is given another chance so she goes to the doctor who cuts open her head and takes out her brains and replaces them with the brains of the girl (or boy) in her bed. "there's lots of blood" says Madeleine, matter-of-factly.

Apparently Britain, as a Britain-pride-boosting exercise, is debating a logo. You know, something like a "statement of values" defining what it means to be us - a Declaration of Independence of sorts. My favorite suggestion from the general public is: "Dipso, Fatso, Bingo, Asbo, Tesco" (Asbo stands for "anti-scoial behavior order while Tesco is the ubiquitous supermarket chain). Perfect.

Beer and . . .

I'm in Munich and this is a land of beer and football for sure. Of course it is also the Octoberfest which lasts sixteen days and draws many tens of thousands to Munich who drink many tens of millions of gallons of beer. The rest of the year these Germans are recovering. Or talking about it. As far as I can tell anyway. Before Munich I was in Dublin for the day which, being Dublin, was cold and grey and of course raining. Despite this, I managed to go jogging between meetings on Marrion Square and the smell of coal burning adds to the distinct cheer of the place. I'm with a number of private investors and pension funds who may be interested in buying Industry Ventures (I am a Venture Partner and helping them raise Fund V). It's a fickle business and today's stock market fall across Asia and Europe muscles its way to the top of any conversation - get out the popcorn, one Limited Partner tells me (we're relieved to see the US exchanges have only a minor declines when they open earlier today). Talking to the kids on the phone, Madeleine asks for a goldfish and Eitan a Nintendo DX. I tell them: no way.

Crawl

Eitan in motion. During swim practice, I run in Richmond Park with several other dads whose kids are doing the same (swimming, that is). Eitan's coach is pushing for a more advanced group which would require two work-outs a week. He's resisted so far while football remains his main sport (Bonus ! Manchester United won last night in Reading, putting them at the top of the Premiership - Eitan whoops with joy as his heroes Wayne Rooney and Christiano Rinaldo score the winners). We now sit at the breakfast table doing homework and me blogging. Sonnet is at yoga - Bikram BTW or the one where you sweat. This evening my friends from Industry Ventures arrive in London for the beginning of a mad cap across Europe visiting six cities in five days in a schedule which now rolls into the following week. I'm sure that Conde Naste would not approve.

Skate

Madeleine and I take a lap in an otherwise unseasonably warm winter - same as it ever was. Taxi drivers tell me 25 years ago London got several feet of snow which would stick. This year we haven't even a dusting - the first time in 11 - though it is only January. School yard Mums are talking early spring and daffodils are poking their heads three months early. This morning, Madeleine tries out for the local swim team and passes with flying colors. Her Saturdays will be loaded: swimming, football and performance class. Phew! We've also signed her up for Kumon, which is a Japanese approach to maths. It requires every-day homework which begins counting dots and continues to calculus building confidence along the way we hope. I've seen in the classroom those kids who are not going with the program - they become bored, distracted and behind. The teachers charge ahead and unless the parents are engaged it's over before it begins.

Eitan purposely scares the bejesus out of Sonnet this morning. Afterwards, he: "Mom, don't think that this is the last time I will be doing that."

Madeleine: "Dad, can I buy some squiggly string at Pandomium?"
Madeleine: "Dad, can I buy some squiggly string at Pandomium?"
Madeleine: "Dad, can I buy some squiggly string at Pandomium?"
Madeleine: "Dad, can I buy some squiggly string at Pandomium?"

Madeleine: "Dad, can I buy some squiggly string at Pandomium?"
Madeleine: "Dad, can I buy some squiggly string at Pandomium?"

Madeleine: "Dad, can I buy some squiggly string at Pandomium?"



Madeleine: "Dad, can I buy some squiggly string at Pandomium?"

Kiddo

Lest we forget the cute little sprogue that was Madeleine, here is a shot from early 2002. Many of Madeleine's best qualities were evident early: fearless, demanding, forceful. Of course, at the time these traits were not necessarily viewed with, ahem, our full appreciation. Now they are applied in the classroom where she often has her hand up with the right or wrong, greeting new people sometimes in Spanish, and on the football pitch - when she wants a goal, she brushes the boys back. Without doubt she feels the ever present thumb-on -forehead which is Eitan, but she is also figuring our her interests and this is half the fun (as long as she stays clear of the drums or electric guitar).

Pommes Frites

France attracted a record number of tourists in 2007, with no signs that the euro's strength has deterred outsiders to the euro zone, the Minister for Consumer Affairs and Tourism said yesterday and reported in the IHT. "France is going to set a record in 2007," the minister, Luc Chatel, said on LCI television. "It will pass the 80 million mark for visitors in 2007." France is the world's top travel destination with tourism accounting for about 6.3% of gross domestic product according to data from the Finance Ministry. Not surprisingly, Paris is the most popular city in the world welcoming 30 million foreigners in 2004 (the Big Apple sees 44 million, but this includes foreign and American, according to NYC & Co.). And what is the greatest draw, you may ask? Why Euro-Disney, of course, which receives 12.4 million guests per year, followed by Notre Dame and the Sacre-Coeur basiica with 12 and 8 million respectively. The busiest museum is the Louvre with 8 million culturistas and the beloved Eiffel Tower at 6 million per year (and 200 million since its birth in 1889). Photo from DK Images.

Yesterday evening heading into Mayfair on bus, I find Eitan's teacher Ms Swain on her way to see Kafka at the Lyric Theatre. This gives us a chance to talk outside the schoolyard. This is Ms Swain's first full classroom following several training years and accreditation and her enthusiasm is front and centre. She gushes about her kids and Eitan, who she describes as "a star". We trade a few notes on bands like Wilco and she is impressed that Sonnet and I saw the Chemical Brothers last month. And then it hits me: I am probably 15 years her senior. Woa. I could almost be her dad. And why is this somehow disturbing? Well, teachers and professors have always been statemanly like figures, mature, you know .... older. And here Ms Swain and I trade a generation and I'm on the downhill side.

Northern Lights

This image of the Northern Lights over Yellowknive, Canada, sent to me by Stan who of course spent many years admiring the phenomenon from Alaska. A sad truth is that during my early courtship of Stan's daughter, Sonnet and I failed to visit her home-state when it would have been convenient, ie, from San Francisco (London it's a 20+ hour indirect voyage + Stan and Silver now live on the Western Slope). As for the mechanism: Auroras are produced by the collision of charged particles, mostly electrons but also protons and heavier particles, from the magnetosphere, with atoms and molecules of the Earth's upper atmosphere (at altitudes above 80 km). Most originate from the sun and arrive at the vicinity of earth in the relatively low-energy solar wind. When the trapped magnetic field of the solar wind is favourably oriented (principally southwards) it reconnects with that of the earth and solar particles then enter the magnetosphere and are swept to the magnetotail. Further magnetic reconnection accelerates the particles towards earth.

The collisions in the atmosphere electronically excite atoms and molecules in the upper atmosphere. The excitation energy can be lost by light emission or collisions. Most aurorae are green and red emission from atomic oxygen. Molecular nitrogen and nitrogen ions produce some low level red and very high blue/violet aurorae. Unfortunately, I'm not able to credit the image which is part of an unmarked series.

Mice

Madeleine, over breakfast, casually announces that she has mice in her bedroom eliciting an immediate (and gratifying) response from her mother. I decide to probe a little deeper, and learn that the mice have names: Molly, Polly and Jack. They are friendly mice and like to take tea by Madeleine's bed, just before bed-time. Sometimes they sit on her shoulder and talk about "important things." Eitan, of course, is indignant: "You DO NOT have mice!" he says. When I turn to Eitan and ask how he knows if anything is real, let alone mice - he bangs his head against the table and says: "See! It hurts!" And existentialism takes the back seat to the pragmatic. Photo at school this morning before pre-class yoga.

That Camera

Here is one scanned from Spain several years ago. I'm doing most of my shooting these days with a Canon 400 which I picked up in Montrose over the summer while taking a break from my beloved Pentax SuperMe and Yashica Mat. The sad truth is that digital photography is instantly rewarding compared to the interminable delay of a clumsy SLR. Today, my black and whites are filed away safely and recall the kid's early years (thank goodness I might add). My last lab development was probably a year ago and the time required is prohibitive - minimum four hours (usually twice this) for maybe ten workable prints. But ah the cheer of seeing the end result from snap-shot to shiny glossy. And also while digital cameras are convenient they are not fashionable - as an accoutrement, an old snapper can't be beat. Especially for a Dad with a Fedora and a pipe. And while I have neither, I like to consider the idea of it.

Government

Has Britain become a police state? For certain we can say that she is different from a generation, or even a decade, ago. Our civil liberties, so dear yet taken for granted, have been shaved - nothing dramatic, mind you, but all the same diminished. For instance: The UK has the most comprehensive National DNA Database in the world. It contains information on 5.4 per cent of the population - the next highest national database, in Austria, is 1.04 per cent. And why? Because our Home Secretary Jacqui Smith thinks it necessary to keep the details of people who are arrested but then acquitted or not charged. Action group GeneWatch reports that criminal convictions have shown no significant increase as a result of Smith's policy, and the data has been used for genetic research without consent (GQ, Sunday Times). Combine this with CCTV where Londoners are photographed, on average, 320 times per day, and a proposed National Health Care database and it becomes troublesome. Factor in the Government's ability to lose large chunks of digital data and I'm worried (photo from the ScienceMuseum.org)

Gay

Sonnet and I are in Shoreditch, East London, to celebrate Garath and Richard's civil union (Sonnet wears a sparkly dress designed by Richard). Beforehand we meet Aurial, one of Sonnet's museum colleagues for a martini and chatter - Sonnet and Aurial attended the Courdault Art Institute and both now cover fashion. Shoreditch ten years ago was for students and creative types, with one bar and a lot of dirtiness. Since it was discovered by the queer community, it has blossomed into coolness and Hoxton Square, where we dance and drink at the Underbelly, is filled with sexiness while keeping its urban edge.

We sit around the table this (another) grey morning and the kids do their homework: Madeleine writing and Eitan his maths. Yesterday Eitan and I march to the toy shop to buy Pokemon cards - he dumps 10 pounds in coins on the counter and watches patiently as the cashier adds them up. I lend him 10 pence as he is off the mark by one coin (or two or ten, he points out).

Everest

Sir Edmund Hillary, 1919-2008

"We knocked the bastard off.”

(Photo: National Geographic)

Pissed Off Britain

While writing Paris, here's an image from Leon. Back in Britain, us Citizens are feeling ripped off. A Sunday Times/ YouGov poll reports 85 percent of British customers feel they are being ripped off by the energy firms. This compares to 76% who feel they are being ripped off by the railways; 74% by the petrol companies; and 59% by the banks and financial service industry. And what does Gordon Brown do? He hires Stephen Carter his most senior aid and Chief of Strategy, who has been accused of ripping off thousands of shareholders during his former business career as a Senior Executive of NTL's bankrupted American business ("NTHell" chanted customers). Said Carter then: "What I tell them (shareholders, customers) is nine-tenths bullshit and one-tenth selected facts."

Audrey Hepborn

Sonnet at l'église de la Madeleine in the 8th arrondisement. The site was originally home to a Jewish synagogue before Bishop Maurice de Sully seized it in 1182 and duly consecrated it a Church dedicated to Mary Magdalene. In 1722 the thing was annexed to Paris, needing a monument forming a line-of-sight between Gabriel's twin hôtels in the Place de la Corcorde at the newly established Place Louis XV in 1755. Today's massive colonade was finished in 1777. In 1806, Napoleon erected a memorial, a Temple de la Gloire de la Grande Armée. After the fall of Napoleon, with the Catholic reaction during the Restoration, King Louis XVIII determined that the structure would be used as a church, dedicated (again) to Mary Magdalene. And so it goes. Sonnet and I visit Costes to drink martini cocktails before dinner.

Cartier

I surprise a few workmen requesting a photo of the photographed gentlemen in front of Cartier next to our hotel. We spend the afternoon exploring the marais on the Left Bank. I've not been here for some time despite my visits to Paris - in fact, the last was with Sonnet five years ago. Not much has changed - crowded, beautiful stone buildings, a few small gardens and of course the cafes. We enter the Jewish area and see the Guimard synagogue which was built in 1913 for Russian and Romanian immigrants and designed by Hector Guimard who BTW is most famous for his designs used for Paris’s metro. We buy some perfumes and a few stylish man-shirts for me.

"On some great and glorious day, the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned with a moron."
H.L Mencken (1880-1956)

Grande Roule

Paris' "Grande Roule" - or Big Wheel - was built in 1999 as part of the city's Millennium Celebration I learn. With 50,000 individual light bulbs stretching its 200 foot height, the Wheel lit up the skyline like nothing else. Its central location on the Place de la Concorde - between the Champs-Élysées and The Louvre - ensured that all visitors to the city caught a glimpse, if not a ride. It was supposed to be removed in 2000, but due to side agreements, delays, and controversy, it stayed far longer. Finally, after almost three years - and after becoming another landmark of Paris - the Big Wheel was removed in January 2002. But wait! It's up again much to the consternation of most Parisians who, I'm told by my taxi driver, simply hate it. The wheel interrupts the perfect line from the Little Arc to the Arc de Triomphe. Personally I find it rather gaudy but then I felt the same way towards the London Eye which has grown on me. My photo taken from an embankment at Tuileries.

We stay at my favorite hotel - Le Faubourg, which is perfectly situated off rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, which though relatively nondescript (especially in comparison to the Champs-Élysées), is considered to be one of the most fashionable streets in the world thanks to the presence of virtually every major global fashion house. Number 55 is the Élysée Palace housing the Presidency of the Republic - which would be Sarkozy. And his hot new girl friend who is 12 years his junior. These French know how to keep it interesting, for sure.

Edward Hopper

Sonnet and I head to Paris for brief interlude and to visit some museums and shops. We depart from St Pancras - pictured, the Champagne Bar. The 96 metre space allows a panoramic view of the terminal while making the most of the historic vaulted ceiling - bling! Seating accommodates 110 plus standing room during the rush hour (St Pancras is also a major underground transfer). However, the banquette seating is where the vogue crowd goes: twelve banquettes, seating six people each, line the length of the bar. Flattering light from black shaded Art Deco lamps adds to the cool. As for the wine: 70 champagnes from £40 to £2,700 for a bottle of 1949 Krug.

Back to reality: in the out-lounge, Sonnet bumps into Damien responsible for the VA's public affairs. Damian is on his way to Christian Lacroix and Sonnet is invited to join the Haute Couture. We separate briefly for her fashion, which allows me to ramble around Concorde and Tuileries. Back home the kids are thrilled for Aggie who overnights - she is easy pickings for a movie or cartoons.

Mary Poppins

Madeleine and I join Paul and Camilla at the Prince Edward theatre for Mary Poppins (photo from DPChallenge). Both the girls are entranced and we recognise the songs thanks to Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke - the conclusion sees Mary swooping over the audience as Madeleine shouts out: "Strings, Dad!" (no fooling this kid). And of course: supercalifragilisticepialidoccious (which surprisingly enough is not recognised by Microsoft's dictionary). Afterwards I carry Madeleine to the car and this morning she is way tired so I join her in class for an hour to see her through.

Eitan shouts "I'm rich!" from downstairs, and I appreciate that he has opened a letter from his grand-parents. Yes, Grace and Moe have sent each kid Chanakuh geld and Eitan bounces around with his "250 quid" which Madeleine BTW refers to as "squid." After the initial shock of such unexpected wealth, Eitan counts the 'tactics and Pokemon cards he will buy ("all of them!"). When I tell him perhaps he would like to put his cash in the bank, he replies: "No Dad! It's way too much money."

I return from Dublin and an Investor meeting yesterday. It is wet, grey and cold - my same-day departure not particularly enjoyable but somehow captures everybody's mood: yes, Sir, the festive season is dead. Long live 2008!

Fancy Footwork

The Boy takes his football seriously- here before Saturday's game play. This time Eitan advances the winning goal on a cross-field kick which sales 25 meters before belted into the goal box by a striker (ie, bigger kid). The opportunity follows a pick-and-run manoeuvre which sets up the play. Eitan remains true to his pee-wee league and sometime soon he will have to move up to a club with inter-team and greater competition. For now, he resists and enjoys his friends and his comfort zone.

Led Zeppelin?

The kids get guitars and oh boy. Madeleine asks Eitan if he wants to form a rock band and the two bang away relentlessly. Otherwise, lessons begin this week. Sonnet and I held ground BTW against a drum set or electric anything. Last night we join Tabitha and Dave for Tabitha's 20th Twelfth Night party and our seventh. We visit our old stomping grounds Maida Vale, which looks fabulous with its stately white mansion blocks and unusual Grand Union Canal. Was this where the adventure began - 11 years ago? (and: am I really this old?) We see lots of friendly faces and people we have not been with since last year's party and it is a nice way to put a Wrap on the Festive Season.

Otherwise, 2008 begins in earnest as the kids return to footie, swim team (Eitan) and performance class (Madeleine) plus birthday parties over the weekend and tennis and Spanish during the week. Phew, no wonder Sonnet and I are in bed by 10PM. I am excited about Barack in Iowa and now follow the primaries with enthusiasm - we need this guy in the White House. Cal won their bowl game on the 31st, but that is way last-year. We all look forward to a good one.

VA

Here is Sonnet's professional photo - glam gal, for sure (Madeleine asks me yesterday if she is famous). The V&A Museum is the world's largest for decorative arts and design, housing a permanent collection of over 4.5 million objects. Founded in 1852, the V&A has since grown to now cover 12.5 acres and 145 galleries. Its collection spans 5000 years of art, from ancient times to the present day, in virtually every medium, from the cultures of Europe, North America, Asia and North Africa. Sonnet, of course, is the Fashion Curator. It is nice to know when visiting that she owns a part of it.

Happy Happy

Cousin Susan sends me a photo from Charleston - and was their transition to a new city difficult? Joey suggests not at all.

Eitan and Madeleine are up early and excited to see their classroom chums - school returns today. Unlike them, I drag my feet following a late night (ok, 10PM) dinner with neighborhood friends Karen and Andrew, whose oldest is in Madeleine's class and an after-school pal. Over dinner we discuss teachers, birthday parties, play-date strategies and etc. Man, from the outside, it is one dull conversation but for us, nothing could possibly be more interesting. Andrew is an investor with a UK buy-out firm while Karen has recently returned to work, helping her Canadian company establish a UK m&a operation. The temperatures have nose-dived and we expect snow - Richmond has kindly shoveled sand and grit on the streets and sidewalks. Expect chaos.

Madeleine and I agree that she will read books at home with me in return for Carmel Chew Chew ice cream (it's not a bribe - I like to think of it as a reward). This morning she resists before agreeing to "one page. And with mom."

Wordsworth

Madeleine: "Dad, was I actually raised by wolves?"

I ask: "What do you want to do when you are older?"
Madeleine: "I want to see the world because mostly I've been around the block."
Eitan: "I want to explore the jungle - I've never even seen a lion. Like Tarzan."

What do you want to do in the New Year?
Eitan: "Go to Legoland. The Trampoline. Get loads of candy floss"
Madeleine: I want to go to Bath, make New Years decorations with me, daddy and Eitan. Go Roller blading."

Eitan's 2008 goal: "Be as good a footballer as Ronaldo (who plays for Manchester United and one of the best in the world). Or Wayne Rooney. Or Ronaldino. And Scholes.

Eitan to Sonnet, on her second burrito: "Take it easy, mom!"

Eitan, after I prompt him to tell a joke: "You don't think anything funny that I think is funny!"

Eitan: "Daddy, If I hear one more new rule from you, it's banishment!"

"Books-O-Rama!" Eitan exclaims, when Sonnet asks about bedtime reading

"Listen guys: I.. .. Have . . ... Had... It!"
Sonnet

Eitan, gleefully, with his new "Wacky Carols": "See- this one stinks!" (shoving card in my face)

Sonnet to Madeleine: "You do not give presents you do not want to your friends."
And further: "You do not ask for a gift nor expect one for giving one."
And Finally: "You do not wrap that toy if it is broken!"

Stone

Yesterday, in front of The War Museum and some Portland stone.

How can I forget one of our early Saturdays when Sonnet and I toured Trafalgar Square to study this noble rock? It was us and the Old Age Pensioners, for sure.

For those who wish to wonder: Portland stone is limestone from the Jurassic period quarried on the Isle of Portland, Dorset. The quarries include white-grey limestone separated by chert beds. The limestone is lovingly extracted by hard toil and tears and is used extensively throughout the UK - notably in major public buildings in London such as St Paul's and Buckingham Palace.

It is also exported: Portland stone is the United Nations in New York, for example. Further, all gravestones for British soldiers killed in the First and Second World Wars are made out of Portland stone. However these began to weather and detail such as the regimental badges were becoming difficult to view and the Commonwealth War Graves Commission began to use botticino a white marble limestone from about 1998. Three main "Portland Beds" are quarried. The Base and Whitebed are fine textured and contain few fossil remains, and so are popular for high quality work (the fossils may be otherwise visible. The Roach bed is rougher with many visible fossils - we ooh and ahh at the clam shells visible in the columns of St. Martins in the Fields Church.

That Tooth

Eitan proudly shows his dislodgement. His other babies are now mis-aligned - perhaps future orthadonture? Let's hope not. For now we'll just say he's looking very English. On a practical note, he receives £2 from the Tooth Ferry.

It's reported today in The Times that the "colonisation" of the middle classes of the best state schools has led to a dramatic widening of the gap in educational performance between the rich and poor children in the past year. The government report shows that the achievement divide between pupils in the 10% richest and poorest areas of England has grown by more than ten percentage points compared with fractional increases in previous years. The figures show that the attainment gap between rich and poor continues to widen as pupils progress - at age 7, the gap widens to 20 percentage points in 2007 and 43% by 16 - suggesting that far from being a leveller, school is increasing the disparity. Michael Gove, the Shadow Education Secretary, notes that the system favours those fortunate enough, or rich enough, to live in areas with good schools - pupil performance in the richest areas had improved at twice the rate that it had deteriorated in poor areas. An additional explanation of the sudden widening of the gap may be the influx of immigrants who do not have English as a first language. Are we then surprised by Britain's yob culture with Europe's highest rates of teenage drinking and pre-marital sex/ pregnancy?

Yester-Year

Photo from May 2001, before Madeleine is with us. Eitan loses his middle tooth two days ago while we rough-house - it was snaggle for several weeks and awaiting a hard delivery, which I gave with my forearm. We are both momentariuly shocked by tooth-in-hand then the blood spills - he screams. Sonnet comes running up the stairs to find us in the bathroom and Eitan's mouth stuffed with Kleenex. Yes, this is as close to emergency ward as we have come and let us hope it is the most serious. Afterwards, the kids compare missing teeth and wobblies, Madeleine refusing to be left out of the action. Speaking of action: she and I have spent the last twenty-four hours practicing the months of the year - both their order and spelling. Madeleine writes them in her locked diary, practicing on an A4 beforehand. For some reason "October" is difficult - perhaps it sounds like August - but in the end, she is proud of her effort and goes to bed with the work tucked beside her bed. She wakes early so we can practice.

Love And Brit

The British love life depends on one's perspective and gender: 22% of married women wish they had chosen a different spouse while 12% of married men feel the same way (Daily Mail). Among divorcees, 56% of women and 44% of men cite unsatisfactory sex as the reason for the break-up. The good news is that persistence pays off: people who stick with their first choice of spouse tend to be happier: 60% of those on their first marriage believe they have found "the one," whereas 29% of those on a second or subsequent marriage say the same (The Sunday Times). Owning a pet may hurt your sex life: 48% of women would spurn a suitor who owned a spider. But it cuts both ways. If a prospective partner were allergic to their pet, 25% of pet owners would take the cat (Guardian). And is our yuff blessed or cursed? 38% of teenagers had sex in 2007, far more than any other European nation, although the Swedes come pretty close at 28% - God Bless those healthy cupids (The Sunday Times, compiled by The Week).

Blades

We skate the day before Christmas at Kew Gardens, which is otherwise closed to the public. Eitan is reasonably confident while Madeleine bull-sure: she races onto the ice, legs flying and arms flopping. Sonnet and I take turns circling the rink and holding them up, which in my case is a house of cards. Sonnet's Alaska meant icy summers while I mostly missed the winter time - without much regret, I may add. At some stage the circling becomes a race and Madeleine cracks the whip: "Faster dad! F-A-S-T-E-R !" It all ends in tears, of course, and hot chocolate.

Before the rink, I re-union with Arthur for a three hour walk along the Thames covering Richmond to Petersham. He is in town to give his belated good-byes after returning to the US in March, departing in a flurry of packing and construction. Arthur finished the redesign of his penthouse in about one month - following several years work where he single handedly reconstructed the electrics. Yes, he is an engineer employed by TRW (now Northrop Grumman) for nearly 30 years. His skills have taken him from satellites to communications, where he helped build the UK's police radio mobile communications network, among other things. And now Washington D.C. building the missile defense shield. Arthur and I met in '97 around running before his knees gave out and injuries caught up with us both. Now, as then, we hike London covering various locations and subjects - Author's generous and curious soul allows me to ask the sciences questions I missed at Berkeley and Brown.

Christmas Rack

A queue forms at Chubb & Son, the local butchers who have been in business for three generations, I learn. Us dads have our marching orders and stand in the cold, stomping feet and reading the papers or drinking coffee. Brave Madeleine joins me in return for a "treaty" at the next door news-agent (she brings her purse stuffed with various coins and currencies). Chubb tells me today is his busiest day and he fills his cold room for weeks in preparation. "I used to stay up all night sawing, but now trucks deliver frequently enough" he tells me. While Chubb's meat is organic and from farms selected by them, in the old days "butchers used to choose the animals for slaughter, which was done on site or nearby enough to be on the racks that day." Blood, guts and all, I might add. And the most popular selection for Christmas? Goose, of course.

Monday

Sonnet is up at dark to run with Stephanie while the kids awake too from a camp-out on Eitan's floor (there was plenty of excitement as Madeleine lined up her buddies next to her sleeping bag). I'm the last one up-and-at-'em, which is just as well given another grey and cold day - surprisingly thick fog makes it festively spooky and I tell the children to mind Jack. Here Eitan reads the football scores while we wait in the queue to pick up our holiday roast beast (FYI Eitan's hero Ronaldo scored the game winning goal for Manchester United yesterday versus Everton, which receives a giant "huzzey!")

I ask the Eitan and Madeleine to shout out the meaning of the holidays:

Madeleine: "Happy! Fun! Exciting! Nice, lovely, chimney, ash, sparkles, glow, God, Church, decorations, angels, bobbles, gold, Frankenstein! (I think she means Frankincense)

Eitan: "Mistle toe, turkey, Santa Claus, Rudolph, Dixon (reindeer), (rain deer) stables, Christmas dinner, stocking, presents, Baby Jesus, Star (of David), feast, Mary, Joseph, Christmas tree, cookies!"

Birds and Bees

Things have slowed for Christmas and Sonnet and I meet for an early lunch at the Armani cafe in South Kensington last week Thursday followed by a visit to the Lee Miller exhibition at the VA and Danish design at a house owned by Embassy of Denmark in London. Fun. Yesterday we ice skate with Nat and Justin before they holiday in Uruguay and today we spend the afternoon with David and Ashling, whose son Joe-H-Y is Eitan's school chum. Afterwards we go to church and the boys trade Pokomon cards during Silent Night and other carols. Madeleine is transfixed, and I note to my neighbor that even us Jews recognise some of the songs.

I ask Madeleine what happens when we grow old. She: "you grow hair from you nose. And ears too."

Madeleine on inception: "first there's a lot of hugging and kissing" she opines. Eitan adds: "a little seed with a tail swims around the mum's tummy." How does it get there, I ask? "she eats it." So today, for the first time, I describe the mechanics (this while walking home from the football pitch). Both kids reply: "Ew, dad, that is so gross!" and Madeleine: "did you do that to mom?" When they ask why adults do this, I explain so we can have kids like them which they ponder for a bit.

O'Brian

A frigate, in this case the representative USS Constitution, is a war ship which in the 18th century British Navy was as long as a ship-of-the-line and square rigged on all three masts, but faster and with lighter armament. Frigates were used for patrolling and escort but were also a ferocious fighters with a lower deck carrying 28 to 40 cannon - Jack Aubrey's Surprise had 28. I am on16 of Patrick O'Brien 20-book series detailing Captain Aubrey and companion spy Stephen Maturin during the Napoleonic wars. I was turned onto the story by Eric, who re-read the books and bought the audio - in other words, a serious recommendation. The Master and Commander is now the longest story I have read surpassing Churchill's WWII. I began in '03 and have recently slowed up to allow the stories to drag out - I don't want them to end (O'Brian died in 2000). O'Brian is a cult and on occassion I have been interrupted mid-chapter by some fellow pointing me his copy. We have visited Greenwich so I can look at the naval paintings. Last year, we went to Portsmouth where the old ships are docked for the public including Nelson's HMS Victory. O'Brian slowly brings the reader along with his story and is sharp about the ship's detail - after so many pages I still find myself searching for descriptions of "stuns'l", "spanker" and "backstaff." This, dear reader, is half the fun.

Snow Flake

I attend Madeleine's classroom to help Mrs. Reynolds do some filing and etc. It is over quickly and I spend my morning entertaining the kids and myself. First, we do verbs and the children shout out various conjugations (I run, he runs....). If the class gets a batch right a ruby is popped into the Jewel jar - once full, a secret surprise and the kids buzz: ice cream! After the morning's lessons, we break into tables and I help make snow flakes. We fold a square sheet and make scissor cuts - voila! just like we all remember. Did you know that snowflakes may form columns, needles, bricks and plates (with and without "dendrites" - the "arms" of some snowflakes) based on different temperatures and water saturation? The kids don't care either and Madeleine especially gives me a serious look when I begin my explanation. Christmas music plays in the background and soak up the holiday cheer. Photo by Mark Cassino.

"Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught."
Oscar Wilde from Intentions

Jesus

"We meet again" says Jerry Maguire. This photo taken some weeks ago at Kew Gardens with Shai and his family. From fish to Christmas and both Shakespeares want 'tactics. Eitan, in fact, has requested 30 which I tell him won't happen. The boy looks at me slyly: "I know Santa will buy them for me." Yes, we are at that awkward age when the older child knows and the younger clings to fantasy. Eitan is too smart to allow a fat man down the chimney. On occasion he lets his knowledge tickle the surface - met by my stern look and the promise, I assure him, that Santa will most definitely not deliver if he keeps it up. So, Christmas. Despite being Jewish (mom converted) I don't feel particularly conflicted by the Christian holidays. My parents generation assimilated and Katie and I were free to make our own decisions - and we chose swimming. Today, without a religious foundation, it is hard to be - well - religious. Sonnet and I discussed this many times but no longer. England after all is Catholic and our kids go to a primary where Baby Jesus is present and Christmas carols sung in the quire. Above all else, Eitan and Madeleine receive an excellent education. In England they will be allowed, thank goodness, to find their own way.

Poolside

Madeleine loves water and will soon try out for the local swim club - Eitan's team. Eitan's coach BTW has put the boy up for advancement- the only kid from his group. If he accepts, and I am not sure that he will, his weekly commitment jumps 3X and one hour work-outs. Madeleine has the body for swimming - she's a healthy kid whose growth chart suggests - gasp - 180 centimeters (5'11''). Plus man is she competitive. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here (ahem). I was a 14 year-old age-grouper when 16 year-old Mary T Maegher gave one of the most memorable performances in competitive swimming at the U.S. Swimming National Championships in Brown Deer, Wisconsin in 1981. At the meet, Meagher set world records in both the 200 and 100 meter butterfly. The times for both records were considered astonishing, especially the record of 57.93 seconds that Meagher set in the sprint. Both times would stand for nearly two decades - American swimmer Jenny Thompson broke the record in the 100 in 1999 while Susie O'Neill of Austrailia set the record in the 200 a year later. Some have argued that Meagher's records in the butterfly were among the most impressive records ever set in sport, let alone swimming, ranking among such noteworthy records as Bob Beamon's Long Jump in '68. Yes, let us allow Madeleine to decide on her sport first.

Harry

Here's one of our Prince stumbling from Mayfair's Bouji night club (photo from The Times). Yes, a fine role model for Britain's young who BTW out-binge any other Western European country. As worryingly, young women in the 18-24 age group are now matching, and in some cases overtaking, young men in their alcohol consumption reported by the BBC earlier this year - we are the only country in Europe where this trend occurs. Eitan, meanwhile, corrects my alcohol consumption: recall, dear reader, that we agreed several years ago that I would stop drinking beer if he gave up his thumb-sucking. We shook and he quit - so had I until the boy reminds me of the time I was with Erik... or when I watched a football match in March... or that time with Paul.... Well, yes I argue, but those were exceptions. Eitan is sceptical, and we agree anyway that beer makes people act silly and is not something for kids. On a more serious note, I tell Eitan and Madeleine that one day they will be offered pills which will make them feel different. They will have to make decisions for themselves, regardless of their friends or idiots like Harry.

The Chemical Brothers

Sonnet and I see The Chemical Brothers, who play from 11PM Saturday at the Brixton Academy. Think big beat, electronic dance music. Think loud. Think lasers and ecstasy. Numbing - pounding - euphoria. Wow. The UK based band, a duo really, is Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons who work an enormous computer set in the middle of the stage. There are otherwise no instruments nor performers. The Chemical Brothers, along with The Prodigy, Fatboy Slim and The Crystal Method, captured the 1990s rave spirit started in Detroit and exported famously to Ibiza and Europe. I recall a club in Almaty, Kazakstan, in 1997 where the music was similarly intense and young sweaty beautiful bodies deadened themselves to the world - somehow perfect for the location. Sonnet has the good sense to wear ear-plugs (middle age, must take care of ourselves) while afterwards I am deaf-tone from the performance and maintain a ringing 24 hours on. The music's vibrations, felt in the chest, stand my arm hairs on end. The audience is enraptured while visual images cross the gigantic digital screen: marching men with guns, a sad clown intoning "everybody get high," a squadron of bombers and so on. Sonnet and I agree that the only place a show like this could be had in the states is L.A. or Brooklyn.... perhaps Queens. It wakes me up from any sunlight deprived, early winter doldrums.

Jerry

Ah, Jerry Maguire - a film, I must admit, that is dear to my heart. Katie sends me this photo noting it was on late night TV. Back in ye olde England, Fleet Street buzzes Diana which somehow continues 11 years after Paris. And there is more salacious detail - this time, Diana's private correspondence to Prince Philippe who called Dodi Al-Fayed "an oily bed hopper", which we have always understood to be true. Further, after the 1996 divorce from the future King, the Royal Family considered Diana "an irrelevance." And more: Diana's best friend informs the court and us prying public that Diana could not have been pregnant with the Fayed because she had her period ten days before. Egad! (but what a relief to be pure of Dodi). So it goes on and on - supporting a media empire, keeping the unpleasant Al-Fayeds in knots, denigrating the palace and our country, embarrassing the sensitive reader who otherwise cannot get enough really. No wonder Monica Lewinsky took a flat in South Kensington several years ago - she be right at home.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna do what you all think I'm gonna do, which is, you know, FLIP OUT!"
Jerry Maguire