Frogger

Eitan competes at the Wandsworth Borough Junior Closed Championships hosted by the London Borough of Wandsworth Amateur Swimming Association. Madeleine is too young yet. The boy is all nerves though I wouldn't know it without asking. Our swimmer takes three disciplines avoiding the butterfly. He also anchors the victorious 8-11s freestyle relay. Since this is England, there are no 25 or 50 meter pools making it a bit weird at 33 meters. Not that times matter. The kids cheer each other forward and I am reminded of the strange camaraderie of swimming - its like no other sport, really. The preparations, pursued in a watery silence, bond the children together: "hup! Hup! Hup!" they scream during the heads-up on Eitan's breast stroke. I sit in the stands thinking how boring it must have been for Moe during those all-week end competitions at Ohlone or Spieker or wherever which often began Friday and went to Sunday late. At least those pools were outdoors and often (though not always) in glorious California sunshine. Usually it was Moe who loaded the Volvo and away we went. Eitan comes home with four medal ribbons and is happy: "I am very proud" he says, laying his tin on the bedroom floor. Leaving the pool complex we bump into a school chum whose eyes are wide when she sees Eitan's success. Could we have a legend in the making?

Here is Moe wearing the Wandsworth Swim Club team-colors. Way to go Dad!

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.

PC

The kids maul each other this morning, an otherwise peaceful morning Dear Sir, after Eitan unintentionally steps on Madeleine's hand and she punches him. The tension escalates to a fight and I holler: enough! Madeleine thinks, as ever, that I favor Eitan but she knows the game: strike then counter-defense: "he did this! His fault!" before racing upstairs in tears. They just need to get outdoors on an overcast Saturday morning and fortunately two hours of football solve the problem. I do get Madeleine to apologise but Eitan is in no mood to accept her gesture.

I'm feeling a bit slow today after a full loop of Richmond park for my power-walk, which takes >two hours. Hey I am really getting into this walking thing and even buy some walking-shoes. Pretty gay, I know, but they add different support than my usual runners. Walking is a good balance to lifting, swimming and jogging without the pounding or soreness+efficient without the groan-factor of lane lapping or the first few miles of a run. Plus Richmond park is a pleasure and yesterday gives me vibrant oranges, yellows, reds and green. Magnificent. Now is the deer culling so the gates closed dusk and dawn for six weeks.

Eitan checks out Torres Top Ten Goals, which he would do all day if allowed. Cal vs. USC today.

"I always jest to people, the Oval Office is the kind of place where people stand outside, they're getting ready to come in and tell me what for, and they walk in and get overwhelmed in the atmosphere, and they say, man, you're looking pretty."
W., Washington, D.C., Nov. 4, 2004

The South Bank

Sonnet treats me to a remarkable concert at the Southbank Centre's Royal Festival Hall: Vaughan Williams's 'Dona nobis pacem': a cantata for soprano, baritone, chorus and orchestra; Symphony No 3 ('Pastoral Symphony'); and Symphony No 4 in F minor. Richard Hickox conducts the Phiharmonia Orchestra and London Symphony Chorus, with Lisa Milne (soprano) and Alan Opie (baritone). The orchestra is backed up by 120 vocalists. It is exhilarating and terrifying - Williams created the symphony on the eve of World War I imploring man to avoid its annihilation. Williams's music has often been said to be characteristically English, in the same way as that of Gustav Holst, Frederick Delius, George Butterworth and William Walton. Here is what writer Peter Akroyd writes, "If that Englishness in music can be encapsulated in words at all, those words would probably be: ostensibly familiar and commonplace, yet deep and mystical as well as lyrical, melodic, melancholic, and nostalgic yet timeless." Photo from the www.

From the RFH we have dinner at a nearby Asian-fusion - average age 25 and definately cool. The young women have their autumnal style which is black leggings and Ug boots, a long sweater serving as a skirt, big belts and funky hats. The blokes have it easier - too skinny jeans, trainers, stripy sweaters over dark t-shirts. Hair moused to unholy perfection looking straigt-outta-bed. We enjoy the open flirtation discussing our middle-age things mainly children and money. We might not be in our 20s but we still got it good.

"I also have picked a secretary for Housing and Human Development. Mel Martinez from the state of Florida."
W., Washington, D.C., Dec. 20, 2000

Zo Zexy

This photo-shopped image of our sexiest citizen might be out of bounds but, come on, we are all thinking it. Rrrrrr, tiger. Sarah Palin it turns out spent more - well more - than the reported $150,000 on her wardrobe, Newsweek reports. Husband Todd also got in on the game: $20,000 to $40,000 and why not? Wasn't his dough (angry McCain aid: "Wasilla hillbillies looting Neiman Marcus from coast to coast.") Fox News Chief Political Correspondent Carl Cameron tells us Palin didn't know which countries were in NAFTA and she "didn't understand that Africa was a continent, rather than a series, a country just in itself." Palin was also a nightmare for her campaign staff refusing preparation help for her Katie Couric then blaming them when the interview bombed. She threw "tantrums" over her bad-press. She walked around naked during conference calls with the RNC (OK, I made that one up). How can we not welcome Palin for 2012? She would ensure the Republicans are gone for another eight years or longer. Will Alaska take her back I wonder?

Exiting the Underground at Waterloo I walk past an elderly black women and ask her about Obama? Momentarily startled she recovers and gives me a thumb's up and "it is a dream come true." I tell her for us all.

"The ambassador and the general were briefing me on the - the vast majority of Iraqis [who] want to live in a peaceful, free world. And we will find these people and we will bring them to justice."
--W., Washington, D.C., Oct. 27, 2003

A Very British Island

Given the All-British Bank Holiday Monday miscue and feeling a bit, well, forgotten thanks to the US elections, here is a short-list of where the United Kingdom ranks:
Number one globally: Grand Prix winners
Second: per capita global aid
Third: obesity
Fourth: scientific literacy
Fifth: radios owned
Sixth: beer consumption

We also have the Queen and stirling, which has fallen like a brick since the financial collapse (but the "£" is still cool). The BBC is world-class and dear: I must pay £120 for a yearly license on five channels which bombard me with advertising - Radio 4 makes up for it. The Thames is a proper tidal river - not like the "skinny legs" on the Seine. Our parliament kicks ass and of course London, where everybody wants to live. It is easy to make fun of a cockney accent whilst Oxford and Cambridge are better (for now) than the Ivy League. The Beatles and Stones. Ozzie and Vivianne. The V&A and British Museum. Elgin Marbles! Le Shakespeare. Hadrian's Wall and the Romans. Streets paved with gold, now melting underfoot. Portland stone. And loads and loads of history. It is inescapable: castles, bridges, monuments, battles and wars. Plus the decline which don't seem so bad in a country ranked the world's fourth richest (stay tuned, however - we have the highest consumer debt anywhere).

"When in doubt, go for the dick joke."
Robin Williams

A Brother In The White House

I awake at 5:00AM (Sonnet rolls over) and stumble downstairs to the BBC. It is indeed a Brave New World and a black president. After 20 months of slugging it out, our most improbable candidate fulfills his destiny and we are there to celebrate. Yesterday's media is filled with lines, lines and lines at the polls then throngs of people in the streets cheering, crying and whooping it up. This is how it must have felt in '74 when Nixon gave his peace sign and boarded a chopper rather than face the Senate and impeachment - the times they are a-changin'. I get calls and emails from everywhere including Christian who, from London, went straight to PA to campaign for Obama; friends and strangers congratulate me and ask what next?; Eitan rubs his eyes and grins when he hears the news. Dale owes me a photograph in a dress - we made a bet when Palin selected VP and McCain up solidly in the polls. The British media gets their darling and the newspapers shout "Gobama!" and "The Vote For Change." There is a real sense of relief - and glee - in the London press after eight years of it all; most believe Americans to have finally returned to their senses. Me too, for the record. The honey-moon will be short: two wars deep, well into a financial crisis and a recession looming large. There is no money in the kitty for health care or welfare. For the moment anyways we can dream of our salvation. And BBQ at the white house. Go figure. Photo from AP.

"If you're walking down the right path and you're willing to keep walking, eventually you'll make progress."
Barack Obama, Feb. 25, 2005

"I know the human being and fish can coexist peacefully."
W., Saginaw Michigan, Sept. 29, 2000

Lodgings

From the castle we go to a hunting llodge that dates to the 17th century now converted into a luxury hotel which, in Britain, means a decent bathroom and pool-spa (hot-tub like it is a big deal) which we put to use. Eitan brings a football good for the ground's healthy green allowing us to kick it about (the other guests are enamored with the action on an other wise stuffy estate. At least I think so). Madeleine in particular gets into the action and I impress upon her the need to "push, pull and kick" her way to a goal. When she goes for the blatent fish-punch I tell her she has to be subtle - "football is a game of secrets" I say. Eitan just grins - I've coached this into him years ago, Dear Brother. Such pearls of wisdom that drop from a tree. Madeleine remains forever the tom-boy and we practice headers until it gets too dark to see the ball. From there we swim, again, then dinner. Everybody way tired and I have to growl at Madeleine to sit-up straight - she is so tired she can barely be contained, poor child. Inevitably this turns into a giddy exchange and finally I join in the fun. In my defense (assuming Sonnet reads) I did get napkins in laps and cutlery (this morning Eitan stuffs the better part of a full English breakfast into his mouth with his hands). We have a great giggle before the light's out, which is 8:30PM. Since it doesn't seem quite fair to keep a reading light on I go to bed at this hour too and you know what? It feels great.

"I fully understand those who say you can't win this thing militarily. That's exactly what the United States military says."
W., on the need for political progress in Iraq. Oct. 17, 2007

"My job is a decision-making job, and as a result, I make a lot of decisions."
W., Lancaster, Pa., Oct. 3, 2007

DDG

Princes Diana used DDG for Wils and I think appropriate for my kids too, no doubt. My Grandmother Dorothy would say they "come from good stock." Over a dinner-party Sonnet and I are told how the mothers ogle Eitan on the playground, poor him. Of course he absolutely hates anything to do with looks or love. Egad. Our tour of the castle continues and from the outside turrets and cannon we head inside to outrageous splendor beginning with the most wicked doll-house I have ever seen (it is Queen Mary's). From there into the main salon then the various apartments for sleep, dress, library and reception - all in various gold leaf or style with plenty of da Vinci's, Rembrandts and Holbeins to marvel upon. A touching chamber, created for Prince Charles 60th, presents black and white photographs of the next King from birth to Diana to Camilla. He has formed 17 charities and whilst perhaps he took a beating over the People's Princess he has been actively campaigning for Britain and for good.

The kids enthusiasm quickly diminishes once inside and after an hour of endless frivolty they do what comes naturally: run amock. I have to pull them in hard under the reproachful eye of the wards who, as a job's perk, get to live on the grounds. So the kids don't quite, ahem, appreciate the 900 years of history we plod through and just as well because it is lunch time. They have only one thing on their minds and it is a clown. With red shoes.

Madeleine: "Dad can I have a buddy. Can I? Can I have a buddy now? After lunch? Can I have a buddy? Dad? A ... b-u-d-d-y. I promise to be good, dad, if I can have a buddy. Ok? Just. One. Buddy, dad. I'll give you my french fries for a buddy. Please, dad, Pleeeeassse. Can I have just one buddy? Can I? Why not? You are so mean. You always say no. Always, dad. Please can I have a buddy? Aw, dad. It is always the same answer. Please. No? Dad! Just one, I promise. I promise one buddy, OK? Dad! I will give you a hug and a kiss..."
Repeat, if possible, for 24 yours.

Windsor Castle

I peel out of the house Sunday morning with the kids in tow allowing Sonnet a run to work and a day of catching-up at her office. Lucky her, lucky me. We pick up the M4 and drive past Heathrow on our way to Windsor Castle. It is appropriately damp and white - no sunshine, no Sir. From Richmond it is an easy drive and our 10AM arrival gives us nearby parking and a head-start on the crowds - already there are Japanese everywhere taking videos of the squirrels and pigeons. Who knows why? On our way to the castle we pass McDonald's and both kids wake up to our historical adventure (in faith, we were here on Christmas Day several years ago with Katie and Moe but neither Shakespeare remembers accept, of course, the McDonald's). Finally we crest the hill and there she is: one huge pile of impenetrible rock. It is a legitimate castle and I explain how guardsmen poured boiling oil upon mauraders mounting the mote then spears threw their eyeballs. This gets small beer from the kids accept Madeleine who asks sweetly: "really, dad?" The castle dates back to the William the Conqueror or around 1022-1066 and is the oldest, continuous occupation in England - the Queen going there >once a month, I am told by the tickets guy. We know if Her Royalness is in residence by the flag on the highest mount - Union Jack, she ain't; Royal Windsor she be. Though Me Lady is not en-scène we practice our curtsies and English standard none-the-less. Pip pip!

"As yesterday's positive report card shows, childrens (sic) do learn when standards are high and results are measured."
W., on the No Child Left Behind Act, Washington, D.C., Sept. 26, 2007

Homework

Eitan's acrostic poem:

"
Most miraculous team you'll ever see
Amazing players
Non-stop winning
Courageous playing to better clubs
Hour after hour they score a goal
Energetic shooting whenever they train
Staggering performances all the time
Talented foot-work in the matches Eitan is there biggest fan
Resting is what they never do

United are the real dream team
Never insult the legends
Immense applause whenever they play
The one team you can understand
Ever lasting hard work
Did you know it's Manchester United?

Illustrated and authorised (sic) by Eitan Orenstein"

"Let me start off by saying that in 2000 I said, 'vote for me. I'm an agent of change.' In 2004, I said, 'I'm not interested in change -- I want to continue as President.' Every candidate has got to say 'change.' That's what the American people expect."
W., Washington, D.C., March 5, 2008

Tricks

Last night's trick-or-treats see us about in the neighborhood - think Charlie Brown and the Peanuts moving in a scrum from door to door. Ours have it down cold - the courtesy "trick or treat" usually forgotten as their expectation of candy is, well, obvious. Cruising the streets with the youngsters are roving gangs of dreaded teen-agers, to be avoided at all costs - the kids look warily away when teens are spotted. Perhaps their fears merited as our carved-pumpkins go missing and Madeleine cries out: "Those teenagers! They did this! Why? Why!" Otherwise, Eitan and Madeleine score big, which will surely be gone by Thanksgiving. Once home, the doorbell continues ringing and Madeleine dishes out Mars Bars and Snickers until we are cleaned out. So to satisfy the little beggers she goes into her personal stash and I am like: "why would you ever do that?" but she is concerned that her guests go away empty-handed. I must respect this. We head to Chris and Kate's for a post-action dinner party with Steve and Louisa while the kids upstairs watch Indiana Jones and we drink red wine. Our treat.

Eitan and I goof this morning while I wear my last night's costume, pictured, which gets a lot of bemused looks for the other patrolling adults. My description - "It's a chicken" - is a guaranteed guffaw. Go figure

"Thank you, your holiness. Awesome speech."
W., to Pope Benedict, Washington, D.C., April 15, 2008

"I'll be long gone before some smart person ever figures out what happened inside the Oval Office."
W., Washington, D.C., May 12, 2008

More Buildings

Here is a no-name building that abuts Waterloo train station - I take this photo yesterday on my way home from Rothko. It is horribly bleak, constructed I'm sure when London began filling its bomb craters (I recall Ludgate Hill at Blackfriars Bridge nearby Botts & Co - there was a city block of rubble from WWII; today it is a modern high-rise). The appropriately named "brutalism" architectural style of the 1950s and 1960s, as pictured, evolved from the work of Le Corbusier and Mies van der Rohe. An offshoot of modernism, it was uncompromising in its approach, believing that practicality and user-friendliness should be the first and foremost aims of architectural design. Materials such as steel and concrete are favoured. The city skyline began to rise in the 1960s with the construction of Centre Point (1963-67), which rose to 120 meters smack dab in the middle of London at Oxford St and Tottenham Court Road - an abomination unless you are in it, then wonderful views. Other early high-rise edifice include Hyde Park Barracks (1967-70) and the Barbican residential arts and conference complex; the 124 meter Euston Centre (1963); and the Post Office Tower, reaching 124 meters.

“A hundred times have I thought New York is a catastrophe and 50 times: It is a beautiful catastrophe.”
Le Corbusier

Fangs

Eitan shows his teeth - we were supposed to visit the dentist this week but Dad got stuck on a conference-call and then got stuck in traffic going to the clinic. Dad was pretty PO'd especially because the nanny dressed the kids in shorts even though it is like freezing in London. The good news is that I make an effort, and it is an effort, not to take out the day on the kids. Especially when they are in the back seat screaming or biting each other. Yes, I breath deeply and do what every father does in the circumstances: turn up the radio.

Tonight is Hallowe'en (where does the time go?) and again Sonnet will host a pre- tricks or treats? party. From there it is a candy grab. Some costume shuffling has Madeleine from clown to witch (complete with broom) while Eitan to be ... wait for it now... a footballer! That's original - the boy doesn't have to change from this morning's camp (pictured). Yesterday the Shakespeares did up their pumpkins with Natasha while Sonnet turns the gore into pumpkin seeds.

"Let me tell you my thoughts on tax relief. When your economy is kind of ooching along, it's important to let people have more of their own money."
W., Boston, Oct. 4, 2002

Skate Punks

And yes it is Friday again. I snap this image walking from the Tate Modern to Waterloo. The skate-boarders congregate underneath the Southbank Centre home of iconic Royal Festival Hall, Queen Elizabeth Hall and The Hayward. This is where the London philharmonic plays next to jazz, modern dance and poetry. More than any place else, it is Britains cultural destination since construction in '51. Unfortunately too it reflects the architecture of that period: cement, and lots of it. London needed cheap buildings following the WW and concrete the answer. As for the skate rats, they occupy the dark, ground level space looking perfect for a good mugging. The designer must have had something in mind - maybe parking? - but instead unused and eventually derelect despite the splendors above. The yuf made it their own and following a many-years struggle with the police and blockades London finally said WTF not? and let them have it. I watch blacks, whites and Pakis show their stuff mostly riding cement blocks or jumping from platforms. They are self-contained and ignore the idle observers - of which there are many. In the end, as with everything, it is just another freak show.

So the US Treasury prepares its >$40 billion program to help delinquent homeowners avoid foreclosure. The problem is negative equity - it is anybody's interest to stop making their obligations if their $1 million borrowings supports a $600,000 house. The government agrees and contemplates reducing prop values (and hence P&I payments) for those who cannot make ongoings. How they prevent an all-in is beyond me.

"I can press when there needs to be pressed; I can hold hands when there needs to be -- hold hands."
W., on how he can contribute to the Middle East peach process, Washington, D.C., Jan. 4, 2008

TH.2058

Erik and I check out the latest objets d'art in the Grand Turbine Hall at the Tate Modern. On display is TH.2058, by French artist Dominique Gonzalez-Foerester who "imagines a world 50 years into the future, as the inhabitants of London take shelter in the Turbine Hall from a never-ending rain." To do so, one pushes through heavy, plastc, multi-colored curtains guarding the work and is then assailed by the sound of rain; inside, the Hall is filled with 200 empty bunk-bed frames scattered with books, over-sized sculptures, a massive screen playing extracts from science-fiction films, and piercing lights that suggest some unseen surveillance. From the guidebook: "TH.2058 explores the notion of a shelter, inspired by Gonzalez-Foerster's ideas of real and fictional situations when London has been under attack – by flooding, bombing or invasion." The pictured spider is at least 30 meters and its legs twice that - difficult to see, but in its pouch are white egg sacks.

On The Unilever Series which makes these wonderful exotics come true: "Every year since 2000, an artist has been commissioned to make a work of art for Tate Modern's Turbine Hall. And every year, the innovative and significant sculptures create a buzz in London's Tate Modern." Way cool.

"But oftentimes I'm asked: Why? Why do you care what happens outside of America?"
W., Washington, D.C., June 26,2008

On Bikes

Erik poses with his favorite gaget - a remarkable, folding bicycle which he takes everywhere. The toy snaps into briefcase-size and easily checked at restaurants or museums - as we do today for both. I used to have a similar red Folder in the go-go webby days to get from our Maida Vale flat to the Warwick underground station. With a nob's twist, the Folder collapsed into half-size to be stored in a hall-way or where eva (full disclosure: I thought that damn thing cool rather than good transpo). Folders were popular in the '50s and '60s when everybody broke and the tyranny of the automobile yet to come. Now there is a movement back to the foot peddlers started by our commie mayor Ken Livingstone and continued by Boris who, as far as I can tell, has never excercised a day in his life. London now has a bike-network and while still dangerous to scoot about it is better than when we arrived. Erik informs me, without hesitation, that biking London is twice a car's speed and I believe it: one study leading to a congestion charged noted that driving in the Capital slower today than 100 years ago.

"When I see an adult on a bicyle, I do not despair for the future of the human race."
H.G. Wells

"Goodbye from the world's biggest polluter."
W., in parting words to British Prime Minister Gordon Brown and French President Nicolas Sarkozy at his final G-8 Summit, punching the air and grinning widely as the two leaders looked on in shock, Rusutsu, Japan, July 10, 2008

On Buildings

I have always enjoyed this simple building in Vauxhaul, not far from MI5 (which is an abomination of green and cement). I take a photograph awaiting the 344 Bus to the Tate Modern (I tell Sonnet "an advent'r" which it promptly becomes as I get completely lost in SE1 with no taxis any wheres). London has compelling architecture though very different from my other Big City - New York (Providence does not count, oh boy). Unlike the Big Apple, London does not do scale - sky-skrapers top out at ten or twelve floors though the City and Canary Wharf go higher+we are getting Europe's tallest with Rogers' "Shard Of Glass" at Tower Bridge assuming, of course, the financing holds up. London has done an admirable job of maintaining its historical skyline and the steadfast rule is never taller than the Wren Dome. My book-club friend Tim notes that "a city becomes beautiful only after the construction stops+200 years" which I think an interesting observation. Of course today there are as many cranes as I have ever seen - I count over 20 - which means for sure the boom is over and we are heading for bust.

Liquidity

This Bloomberg graph pretty much says it all. The green reflects the Fed's interest-rate reductions to offset a feared recession following the the telecoms/Internet collapse. All that cheap cash went into the housing market.

Boom!

Frost

This morning, pictured. I experience life's spiritual in Richmond Park on my walk - the false dawn presents a frozen tundra as frost covers everything including the tall reeds - it makes me think of a BW negative. Trees are autumnal orange and yellow and while there is the dead and dying yet remain green leaves and grass for an unusual backshade. The contrasts are resplendent in the misty fog and there she comes - the hazy, deathly sun over the horizon, one side unbroken treeline, the other dotted with Corbusier towers sharp and angular. My moment of other-wordly occurs at Roehampton Gate when I pass within 15 feet of a stock-still buck whose antlers must reach six or seven feet a side; he follows me with his eyes while puffs of raw air shoot from his nostrils. On the other side of the toe path: two youngsters butt heads (the only sounds this morning) and farther still their heard of females. From Monday, as every first Monday of November, the park closes from early dusk until dawn for the culling which lasts six weeks.

Kool Kid

Madeleine before football camp. A cold front has brought winter cold+frost this morning, so I force the kids to bundle up before taking them to the pitch. In these troubled times, it is good to learn that Manchester United has no fear of losing its best players and that is because AIG, despite being bailed out by you and me, will continue its €25 million per year sponsorship. It is nice to know that our tax dollars go straight to WAGs row, Manchester, where new-money and guaudy mansions exist in their little gated community. Eitan anyway thinks this to be excellent investment - he would sooner eat eggplant than see Rinaldo leave Old Trafford.

Madeleine slugs away at reading - this morning it is Katie Morag, a can-do gal who lives on the Island of Struay (author: Mairi Hedderwick). Katie is continually harassed by unwitting family or embarrased in front of friends; she finds herself in predicaments requiring cool resolve and clever calculations - always she perserveres and we are the better for it. Morag reminds me of The Great Brain or Harriet The Spy but less developed - afterall, it is meant for early-stage readers and that is Madeleine whose sentences stumble from her mouth with little aid from me. She uses her sounds to work through more challenging words and I give her 5p for every time she says Ā instead of AH - she must pay me the same in reverse. At the end of today I give her a high-five for work well done.

"$250,000 over a lifetime? I bet they're stealing that every day in Washington."
A salty Alaskan on NPR re Senator Stevens' guilty verdict (presumably she will vote for Stevens next week)

"This thaw -- took a while to thaw, it's going to take a while to unthaw."
George W. Bush, on liquidity in the markets, Alexandria, La., Oct. 20, 2008

"There's no question about it. Wall Street got drunk -- that's one of the reasons I asked you to turn off the TV cameras -- it got drunk and now it's got a hangover. The question is how long will it sober up and not try to do all these fancy financial instruments."
George W., speaking at a private fundraiser, Houston, Texas, July 18, 2008

"The economy is growing, productivity is high, trade is up, people are working. It's not as good as we'd like, but -- and to the extent that we find weakness, we'll move."
W., Washington, D.C., July 15, 2008

Ladies That Lunch

Arthur and I have lunch at The Wolseley then head across the street to the Royal Academy to see the "Miró, Calder, Giacometti, Braque: Aimé Maeght and his artists" exhibition - here is Aimé (centre) with the Chagalls (picture from Maeght archives). Arthur The Engineer is in town for his Penthouse, which he renovated by himself including electrics and everything. Recall his expertise satellite networks. Since moving to Fairfax, VA, 18 months ago with Northrop he reports that life is not quite so interesting - not surprising following ten years in London where he was building the police's secure-mobile communications network, I suppose. So we have a catch-up then see some wonderful art - Calder always strikes me as shallow but I do love the Braques and Miró (who is new to me) and Giacometti. Ah, Giacometti - his "standing woman" and "dog" are remarkable and totally different from, well, anything. Eight identical smaller bronzes on permenant display at the Tate Modern. As for Aimé, his gallery opened in Paris in 1945 and was to become one of the most influential and creative of the twentieth century.

National Day

Super Gee's plans for a bank-holiday-Monday "national day" to encourage the celebration of Britishness have been quietly dropped. I kinda like the idea of a a patriotic celebration similar to July 4 or Bastille Day in France; the idea was put forward in 2006 following the 7/7 bombings.

Hamburgers and Equal Pay

There are few things Madeleine enjoys more than a hamburger, which consistently ranks in the top-three with pizza and ... pizza. The kids on fall break and begin football camp this morning. I drop them off at the park where they spend >three hours practising their skills and playing matches. Eitan, not surprisingly, up at the dawn dressed and ready to go. (Unfortunately) we have all morning which, for them, drags on and on and on.

For posterity, here is Sarah Palin's explanation re her and John McCain's opposition to the recent Ledbetter Fair Pay Act, which sought to counteract a Supreme Court decision limiting how long workers can wait before suing for pay discrimination.

Palin: I'm absolutely for equal pay for equal work. The Ledbetter pay act - it was gonna turn into a boon for trial lawyers who, I believe, could have taken advantage of women who were many, many years ago who would allege some kind of discrimination. Thankfully, there are laws on the books, there have been since 1963, that no woman could be discriminated against in the workplace in terms of anything, but especially in terms of pay. So thankfully we have the laws on the books and they better be enforced.

Couric: The Ledbetter act sort of lengthens the time a woman can sue her company if she's not getting equal pay for equal work. Why should a fear of lawsuits trump a woman's ability to do something about the fact that women make 77 cents for every dollar a man makes. And that's today.

Palin: There should be no fear of a lawsuit prohibiting a woman from making sure that the laws that are on the books today are enforced. I know in a McCain-Palin administration we will not stand for any measure that would result in a woman being paid less than a man for equal work.

Couric: Why shouldn't the Ledbetter act be in place? You think it would result in lawsuits brought by women years and years ago. Is that your main problem with it?

Palin: It would have turned into a boon for trial lawyers. Again, thankfully with the existing laws we have on the books, they better be enforced. Se we won't stand for anything but that. We won't stand for any discrimination in the workplace - that there isn't any discrimination in America.

Madeleine, age 6, can do better than this. An interesting bench-mark: would I trust a 6 year old to stand in for Governor Palin? That would be a tough one, you betcha.

On Mandelson And The Sunday Papers; Madeleine On Unfair

An in-class photo appropriately posted on the eve of half-term, which keeps the kids away for ten days. This one taken in Mrs. X's class whilst making cookies.

The kids come home from Aggie's this morning excited and exhausted, a bad combination and immediately there are tears when I tell the Shakespeare's we are not going to Snakes and Ladders (full disclosure: I am lazy). It rains so we settle into a Sunday afternoon routine: kids finish home-work, Sonnet reads Harry Potter and I leaf through the papers. I used to hate the UK Sundays especially comped to the New York Times but now I enjoy their shallow-reporting of British concerns. I am not being patronising - but the articles never more than a half-page and no more in-depth to the BBC Radio 4 which keeps its news-reporting to a short minimum.

For instance, today the Fleet Street rags focus on Shadow Chancellor Gordon Osbourne's relationship with Russia's richest oligarch Oleg Deripaska who deals in metals - Osbourne may or may not have solicited £50,000 for his Tory party. This is where the fun begins, you see. The politically inexperienced Osbourne let slip some secrecy about rival Peter Mandelson whilst on Deripaska's £80M boat in the presence of Nat Rotschild. Well, Mandeleson tit-for-tats influencing friend Nat's father Jacob to force Nat to write a letter to The Times discrediting Obourne, which he does. Then the worm turns. Now all eyes on Mandelson who also knows the oligarch and lies about their first meeting in 2006 or 2007. It turns out Mandelson and Deripaska dined in Moscow in October '04 weeks before Mandelson becomes the European Trade Commissioner and - surprise! surprise! - certain EU tariffs on European imports of Russian aluminium eliminated favoring - ding! ding! - Deripaska. If you follow all this, well done. Mandelson has been sacked from government twice for his shadiness and now it may be a third - what is equally surprising is Super Gee's appointment of him and why?

Madeleine begs me to buy her a pair of reading glasses at the neighborhood pharmacy.
Me: What do you need to do before I get you reading glasses?
Madeleine: Get a subscription? (I think she means presciption)
Me: Guess again
Madeleine: give you ten pounds?
Me: Yes, but something else too.
Madeleine, after some thought: Know how to read?
Me: Bingo!
Madeleine: Aw, dad, that is sooo unfair! Alison has a pair and she so cannot even read!

Sonnet: Madeleine, please come down and set the table for dinner.
Madeleine: Why don't you give me a break?
(Sonnet gives a dressing down to Madeleine, who comes to me sniffling: "it is not even fair. I did not even say anything mean - I just wanted to have a break from doing all the chores!" In this instance I cede to her understanding of the expression.)

Madeleine, to no one in particular: "Life can be so unfair."

FUCLA

With Kevin Rily as QB all the way, the Bears handle UCLA at Memorial Stadium (sans hippies in the trees - we will get our athletic extension folks. Earthquakes be damned). Even Katie notes that the Bruins "are pansys" and she should know being at the game and all; before that my parents host a pre-kickoff party for 30 (touchdown Bears! as I write making it 41-13). It is a nice fourth quarter, which I listen to online following dinner at the Gaucho Grill in Richmond overlooking the Thames. The kids are with the Agster tonight allowing us a romantic and yuful evening to ourselves (of course Bears first - Sonnet awake upstairs). Over dinner we discuss kids and parenting, past girl-friends, Microsoft (not sure why) and middle-aged banality. I love looking across the white table at Sonnet who listens to my wine-soaked stories and puts back interesting ones herself. We hold hands walking riverside to the car, remarking on a lovely London. Final score Cal 41, UCLA 20.

Photo from calbears.com

John Lennon

Madeleine back from the toy store and models her new specs. The kid has got some style. Aggie arrives in 45 to take the Shakespears for a night away. She has recently moved into a new pad and tonight invites Eitan and Madeleine to a slumber-party. They have been looking forward for several days and Madeleine plans which of her 75 buddies will get the nod. Eitan meanwhile contemplates DVDs and the treats. Looking at Aggie, I command "no TV. No sweets." Both kids are stunned (in unison: no TV?). I add 7PM bed-time, no late night giggling and most certainly no fun and they are on the inside of the joke. This morning Sonnet runs a loop of Richmond Park then we head to the Hampton pool so I can swim laps while the kiddos splash about. These days I am using flippers, which have been a revalation - I have changed my stroke to accomodate the added leg power and it feels like I fly through the water. Rather than a fast turnover, my arms "catch-up" and consequently I hold more water; my legs further stablise my body while providing propulsion. The new style remains without the fins and for the first time I do not use a two-leg cross-over kick, which I have been doing for >30 years. This stroke served me well for the mileage but not so efficient. And the proof? I normally take 19 strokes in a 25 meter pool. Today, without the flippers, it is 12. By comparison, freestyle sprint world-record holder Matt Biondi who I swam with in HS would take six or seven pulls. Phelps I don't know but it is probably about the same.

Grand Parents

Imagine how proud these folks are of their grand-son. Any fellow is proud of his kids or grand-kids, no doubt, but to watch your son (or grand son) move into pole position of a presidential race? Wow. Katie and I always knew our parents were proud of our achievements, well, because they told us in more ways then one. Our parents must have burst when we got into the Brown and Harvard schools, which then to me never seemed like something that would not happen. Today I interview the same youngsters who are incredible and yet not admitted at least to Brown (Katie's first college reply BTW was a rejection from Michigan - the only one she got). So to be a white grand-parent to watch your black grand-kid moving towards the grandest title in America represented by a white, older, political generation... having lived through the '60s civil rights movement, NYC black-outs and looting, the segregationist south and Jim Crow. Having seen the KKK and lynchings. Again, wow. For me, I think Obama is the coolest black guy I have experienced including my many amazing ethnic friends in Berkeley who pursue law, jazz, banking. Re Obama, it is about time brother.

Sonnet: Madeleine, can you spell "friend" for me?
Madeleine: F-R-A, no wait, P-H-U, no... Can I spell cousin instead?

Eitan farts loudly and everybody cracks up (accept Sonnet). Says he: "That was a whopper."

Madeleine swallowing loudly: "Eitan, did you hear those big gulps?

Sonnet to everybody: "If you are trying to annoy me you are doing a pretty good job right now."

We talk presidential politics over Sonnet's home-made broccoli soup.
Asks Sonnet: "what do you know about the candidates?"
Eitan: "John McCain supports war. And he is not in good health" (Madeleine nods her head)
Madeleine: "Well, that old man chose the pretty lady because he is in love."
Eitan: "He is not!"
Madeleine: "Is!"
Eitan: "Not. Any ways, you don't even know her name."
Madeleine: "Do!"
Eitan: "Do not"
Madeleine: "Well, if you know, what is it smarty pants?"
Eitan: "You're just asking me because you don't know."
Madeleine: "Not!"
Eitan: "Way!"
And so it goes.

Red Hat and Bill Gibbs; More Sarah Palin Funnies

Here we are at Friday again. The Rays and Phillies tied 1-1 in the World Series (which sorta krept up on me), I can still withdrawel money from a bank and polls show Obama out- pacing his rival McC. So on the balance, life is good. Last night, Sonnet and I have a date attending Bill Gibbs at fashionisita Zandra Rhodes's gallery on Bermondsey Road in South London, an edgy part of town south of the Thames. Sonnet knows Rhodes who I meet briefly - Rhodes is known for many things including her colour which is pink. Her hair, for instance, is pink. She also has cool diamond spectacles, terrible teeth and was friends with Gibbs who died from cancer in '88. Gibbs was also a contempory of Ozzie Clark and came up around the same time as Ozzie during London's swinging 60s (Adam points out that "swinging" means something rather different today. Thank you Adam). Also like Clark, he was a highly respected International style and fashion icon and clothing designer who was much in demand - many celebrities and stars wore his clothing including Twiggy (who openeded last night), Elizabeth Taylor, Joan Collins, Bianca Jagger and Tessa Dahl. Gibbs was ahead of his time which then was mini-skirts and space-aged stuff. From there, Sonnet and I go to a noisy supper and I am intrigued by a couple smoking before us on the other side of the glass- they are young and sexed up and I am happy to ease drop on their intimacy which reminds me, I tell Sonnet, of Doisneau.

Yesterday's daily idiocy:

Brian Williams: "Is an abortion clinic bomber a terrorist under this definition?"

Sarah Palin (seated next to McC): "There's no question that Bill Ayers by his own admittance was one who thought to destroy our U.S. Capital and our Pentagon. That is a domestic terrorist. There is no question there. Now others who would want to engage in harming innocent Americans or facilities that it would be unacceptable to, I don't know if you're gonna use the word "terrorist" there."

As pointed out to me, in 1970 Bill Ayers and The Weather Undergrond gave warning of their attacks unlike anti-choice terrorists: Dr Barnett Slepian and Robert Sanderson (killed in 1998); Dr Jack Fainman and another unnamed physician (wounded in 1997); Dr Hugh Shorted (wounded, 1995); Dr John Bayard Britton, James Barrett, Shannon Lowney and Leanne Nichols (killed, 1994); Dr David Gunn (killed, 1993); Dr George Tiller (wounded, 1993). Nor did they give warnnigs in most of the >200 clinic bombings and arsons since 1993, most recently in Albuquerque, NM, in December '07.

March '03

Time flies. I attend Madeleine's class today and Mrs. Y has the kids preparing for tomorrow's visit to a Synagogue - there are only a few Jewish kids in the class. I do not think our neighborhood particularly religious despite the number of churches including one across the street from the school. The kids have to write a few lines on how to behave during tomorrow's field trip. They go to work, boy do they. Between various moments of complete silence and concentration there is... chaos. I help with grammar and sentence structure - things like: "I will not run into the street" or "I will not throw anything at a car." All of sudden I am worried. Madeleine of course is thrilled to have me around and looks up at me with the most loving eyes that melt my heart every time. It is good to be dad. After the busy chores, Mrs. Y does class-room inter-actives while I do reading one-on-ones. There are some Big Things Year 2 must learn and reading is top of the list. It is hard, hard, work and I watch the struggle of sounding symbols, putting pieces together and making words - all the while trying to stay focused. Somebody once told me the hardest thing one learns to do is walk but now I am not so sure.

In the gym I leaf through a stack of magazines. Ok, they are women's magazines and I pull this little chestnut from the January '08 Marie Claire on how a gal must sort out her finances: "... consider investing in a buy-to-let property (be careful here, however, as the property market is likely to be choppy this coming year), thereby setting yourself up with a regular income, and growth for years to come." Now that is just one bad piece of advise as prop values off 20% this year. Here is another: "if you have some cash to invest, look at buying a hotel room." Did anybody finish primary at this magazine?

Back to the John Humphries - Sex Ed segment on Radio 4 this morning. By far the most awkward moment of an already cringeful ten minutes was Norman Wells of the Family Education Center uses his 14 year old daughter as an example of why we need responsible training in the class-room (presumably she is "active," you see, as Wells did mention she has a boyfriend). Can you imagine that poor kid? A teen-age Madeleine would cut off my nuts and still not feel vindicated should I ever do such a thing on national radio.

Madeleine, out of the blue: "Is it Thursday!? Oh, no!"