Blather

Sometimes there is no reason to a thing - good, or bad. Regardless, we like to control the outcome. The United States, which has the world's largest military budget by far and in excess of $500 billion per year, has enjoyed decidedly mixed results in its last five goes, which I score as 1-1-3, holding Iraq and Afg as draws for the now (I don't include Grenada which, other than a Clint Eastwood movie, long ago forgotten; nor Mogadishu and Haiti; while Russia never a military battle). Indeed, our might seriously compromised during the Bush-years: prior, America generally viewed as the sole Super Power capable of policing the world. And now we know for certain this not true. "Talk softly and carry a big stick" somebody said then, and as true as today. Sonnet's parents visit for Passover and we celebrate the Sedar, with Madeleine and Eitan vying for the traditional questions: "Why is this night different from all other nights" and so forth. Reading the blessings, it is hard not to observe Israel's relationship with Gaza, where more news comes forward about the war's conduct, which left >900 Palestinian civilians dead compared to 12 Israeli soldiers. Is Israel now Pharoah? I have always been a knee-jerk, and steadfast supporter of Israel and it is hard to be Jewish American and feel any other way. Yet, I met Katie's Jewish friend Phil Weiss in New York a couple months ago and he has attacked Israel's treatment of the Palestinians and America's powerful Jewish Lobby, which contraven US interests in the Middle East, he says via his blog www.philipweiss.org. Phil was once the New York Times's top reporter but became disallusioned and quit - he asked me, "How can you trust the NYT after Iraq?" and he has a point. Anyway, Phil is bringing his focus onto a local, and personal cause - his site has raised over $5,000 in micro-payments to attend the upcoming AIPAC and Gaza and this, he believes, the future of our news.

Mbita

Photo from Marcus, taken in Mbita, Africa, on his way to Malawi. Marcus is setting up blogs and video programs for donors who have contributed to his non-profit Sola International. Marcus is travelling with 12 experts and staff and his time has been chaotic, full of meetings, trips and travel for almost every minute - "trying to find a way to get to an Internet cafe almost impossible." He will join us Saturday and together with family we will celebrate his 4-0.

"The biggest risk to the project is our own thundering incompetence."
Dilbert (taped to my office-wall)

John

This is John, one of Eitan's three coaches at KPR. He is from Newcastle and the real-deal - despite a stern look, he loves the boys and would do anything for them. I've observed this on the pitch and at the several friendlies the boys have so far played. They respect him.

Sonnet's parents settle following their long-haul flight from Denver (Silver: "The flowers, Jeff. The flowers!" - sometimes London needs to be seen from an outside eye). Sonnet stops by their hotel on her way home from jury duty and she and Stan end up at Cadogen Hal to see the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. The concert venue located at Sloan Terrace in Chelsea in what used to be the First Church of Christ. Lucky, lucky. Meanwhile, I take the Shakespeares to Waitrose to buy some needed dinner supplies (red wine) and, since this is half-term break, spoil them with sugar cereal. Their little eyes go wide with shock when I answer their pleas with positive (Madeleine: "Do you really mean it, dad? Do you?"). Unable to decide, they go for the tried-and-true holiday pack - a selection of Cocoa Pops, Fruit Loops, Frosted Flakes &c. in diner-sized boxes. This nets a fight over who gets what so we end up buying two. From there it is the ice-cream locker where they are allowed to select whatever - again, it beggars belief and they push their good fortune: "Can we watch TV, Dad? Can we?" and I say - why not? So yes, Dad is on patrol ..

Liverpool Street Station

Note: I didn;t particularly like my original posting photo taken with mobile phone. I replace it with this one - taken by Orchan.

Liverpool Street Station - the equivalent of New York's Grand Central Station in proximity to wealth - shuffles The City's bankers to and from the suburbs. It is the third busiest in London after Waterloo and Victoria with 123 million visitors each year. I note that movie Mission Impossible takes advantage of this cool moderno setting placing a fabricated CIA "safe house" above the Old Broad Street entrance where Tom Cruise enters the main line concourse to use a payphone situated under the double staircase. Dun dun dun. For most ex-pats, LSS is the gateway to Bishopsgate plaza which, like Midtown Manhattan, provides industrial steel and glass hq's for UBS, Lehman Bros (ker-plunk), Bear Sterns (ker-pow), Merrill Lynch (ker-splat) and other American institutions, whomever may be left. Buy your rent - cheep. On top of the station London's "Square Mile," the wealthiest pinch of land in Europe with the London Stock Exchange, Lloyd's of London (insurance) and the Bank of England herself. starting in the early-90s, many of the global franchises moved to Canary Wharf which offers more real-estate holding many thousands of employees .. it is also a soulless, God-awful area on the Isle of Dogs not far from Greenwich - feel sorry for the poor slobs who work there. The real power shift, in effect, occurred from my arrival in '97 as the money managers chose the West End - Mayfair and St James's own virtually all the hedge fund and private equity firms and why not? Much less oppressive than The City+night life and go-go right around the corner. Then there is the Wolseley and La Caprice not to mention Dukes. I rarely find myself in or nearby Liverpool Station these days and it kinda gives me the creeps - reminding me of my first couple of years in London when I worked for lbo firm Botts & Co. on New Fetter Lane ..

While thinking about The City, here is something to ponder: Americans are saving more - in the last quarter of 2008, net-debt fell by $100 billion or 1%. Yet net worth fell by $5,000 billion or 10%. As a result, debt ratios have become worse - to better them, savings and defaults will have to rise - or governments will have to keep up the stim-u-lus.

Madeleine and I await Stan and Silver's arrival at Heathrow - on time and hurray! - then, after dropping Stan and Silver off at their hotel in South Kensington, Madeleine and I have lunch at La Brasserie. On her mind these days? A pet. Our summer holiday. And living in California, which she would like to do now or when an adult, she says.

Wedding Dress and Marbreds

Madeleine tries on a wedding dress for Diane, who ties the knot this summer in VT. More to come. Here's something to note: US smoking hotlines swamped, sometimes by four times their usual volulme the USA Today reports, by would-be quitters following the largest-ever increase in the federal tobacco tax - a pack of Marlboros ("Marbreds" back in the day) by $1.01 a pack, for instance. But here's what these poor hackers are up against: 3% have success on their own; with counseling it is 16% and with medication like the nicotine patch - 30%. Not encouraging - how on earth consumers believed this nefarious weed - nicotine added accordingly - not a drug nor addictive? I recall like yesterday the seven Tobacco CEOs '94 testimonials under oath before Congress. They squirmed as much as I did knowing full well they were a lie. Not surprisingly when I was in business school around this time, Philip Morris recruited and the shadiest dude in my class took a summer internship - his comment then: "every company has skeletons in the closet..." Dumb ass MBA. Of more interest, PM presented at Columbia's Presidential suite - not even the Big Investment Banks or Consulting Firms did this - and brought their top-brass from Vice Presidents to the Head of North America who opened his presentation by saying (this the very first thing, mind you): "Ours is a legal product, and as long as it is legal, we will do everything in our power to promote Philip Morris and smoking." There was no mention of the lobbiests in DC or the cancer spread across our country. Well, things have improved and fewer people in the Western World smoke, excluding the French who smoke all the time God bless them. Thank goodness, then, for Asia where >50% of their populations inhale. It is hard to imagine how their health system will cope in twenty years when the health system forced to address the smoking related suffering. It won't be pretty, nor any of us guilt-free.

Lily Allen

CW sends me this cool pic from the Warfield the other night. Lily Allen is a controversial Brit singer who has made the world-stage; she is despised by some for her intemperate behavior (see Perez Hilton who cannot stand her) but I admire her pluck and independent spirit, which reminds me of Madeleine. Plus she's a girl in music which is mostly a man's world and I should know having worked for Jim Fifield, the CEO of EMI Music, during my summer of business school. Of course, Allen also produces beautiful and interesting music and her lifestyle - married lovers, drunk nights with a dubious crew and other various self-destructive habits - should, while not being defended, not be reviewed with a puritanical, snobbish and condescending eye which is what I see from Fleet Street and Perez (who for the record is a little prick but I cannot help reading his website www.perezhilton.com. Does that make me a little prick? Probably, oh well). The Warfield Theatre BTW an epic San Fran venue on Market Street built in the 1920s for vaudeville; it was the home of the Grateful Dead who, in 1980, played 15 sold out concerts to celebrate their 15th anniversary. Lucky Christian for living so close by - for living in San Francisco, for that matter.

On Barak Obama and Europe - what a thrill to see him. In one week he changes the perception of America. There is no fear of his miscue or embarrassment; he appears confident and, in fact radiant - and why not? He could easily win an election in any country of Europe and remains, by far, the world's most popular politician. Media takes us within inches of his various arrivals and I note how he treats the support - touching the door man on the shoulder or a quick comment to the security guy or police.. I also see him shake Sarkozy's hand with a strong, powerful grip similar to something on the street vs. a formal contact - Sarkozy, of course, basks in the macho glow. Michelle adds to the glamour and unlike that embarrassing, dip-shit, money chasing Jackie Kennedy Onassis, Michelle brings style, education, career and family to the Euro affair. Similar to her husband, she is somebody we want representing our country. Representing me. They've got game.

Redoubt

Wow - check out this photo by Chris Waythomas of Redoubt volcano in Alaska, which erupted March 31, 2009. View is to the west. Note ash covered slopes in foreground. Silver "glad we're not there." For sure. I recall that Stan and Silver arrived in Anchorage six months before the Great Alsakan earthquake on March 27, 1964, which went across south-central Alaska, ground fissures, collapsing buildings, and tsunamis directly caused about 131 deaths. It lasted nearly five minutes, it was the most powerful recorded earthquake in U.S. and Northern American history, and the third most powerful ever measured by seismograph; it had a moment magnitude of 9.2 and registered 8.4 on the Richter scale.

The quake produced earthquake liquefaction in the region. Ground fissures and failures caused major structural damage in several communities, much damage to property and several landslides. Anchorage sustained great destruction or damage to many inadequately engineered houses, buildings, and infrastructure (paved streets, sidewalks, water and sewer mains, electrical systems, and other man-made equipment). Two hundred miles southwest, some areas near Kodiak were permanently raised by 30 feet (9.1 m). East of Anchorage, areas around the head of Turnagain Arm near Portage dropped 8 feet (2.4 m), requiring reconstruction and fill to raise the Seward Highway above the new high tidemark. In Prince William Sound, a 27-foot (8.2 m) tsunami destroyed the village of Chenega, killing 23 of the 68 people who then lived there; survivors out-ran the wave, climbing to high ground. Post-quake tsunamis severely affected Valdez, Whittier, Seward, Kodiak, and other Alaskan Communities, as well as people and property in British Columbia, Oregon, and California. Tsunamis also caused damage in Hawaii and Japan. Silver describes the ground "melting underneath".

Dude!

Surf's Up

I spent the last couple of days in a five-star fancy-schmancy on the French Atlantic coast (photo taken with mobile during my long-run yesterday). So here is what the tour guide says of the town: "Biarritz a city which lies on the Bay of Bisca, on the Atlantic coast, in southwestern France. It is a luxurious seaside town and is popular with tourists and surfers." The city about 11 miles from Spain where we dinner at Michelin three-star Otzazulueta baserria considered Europe's fourth finest by Condé Nast Treveller. Of the nine-course meal, a piece of milk veal, roasted and perfumed with vine cutting embers stands out - the grey outer shell contrasts with the pink raw meat leaving an indellible impression, oh boy. We also have a tour of the basque country where I learn about its history - Louis XIX and and Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte major influences - and I buy three types of salamis from a local charcuterie and mon d'eau they are good - we picnic on them today in Richmond Park. Biarritz and its coastline offers world-class surfing - confirmed by my friend Dan who wrote a book about such stuff - and attracts world competitors. The Quicksilver Pro France (part of the World Pro Surfing Tour) held every September at nearby Hossegor. The best news of the week end Astorg, whose funds are performing admirably despite the economic crisis - Funds III and IV, where I am involved, have enjoyed exits and considerable mark-ups... and better, no surprises in '08 nor expected next year, budgets suggest.

South France

Here I am the next several days and I am dashing out the door after dropping the kids off at "breakfast club" (pancakes!) while Sonnet to jury duty - knife murder, bloody. I'm going to Biarritz in Southwest France and jet set, no doubt, so I have my short-short swim trunks, ahem - Italian style, and aviator shades, of course. There will be lots of work in between I am sure, yeah right - but really, the purpose is to see my friends at Astorg Partners and hear of their progress through these troubled financial times. So far, they appear to be on tops but we shall see. We shall see. I will re-engage this blog Saturday so mom and dad - don't worry. No need to call the police.

Run, Joe, Run!

Martin, my trainer, and I meet at noon to do a workout together. At some point I'll get a picture up of him - he's an intense guy, shaved head and serious character. My secret weapon, as it were, for the Berlin Marathon. Before Berlin, though, is London - in fact, the race less than four weeks away. I won't run London hard but rather for charity - as my faithful support group knows all too well. I cannot
thank you enough. Today Martin and I do a series of walk-jog-sprints and I'm feeling pretty sore as I write this; tomorrow, it is deep-tissue massage which is truly agonising so banish the idea of a refreshing experience or whatever those ladies that lunch and spa do - then Biarritz in the South of France for the Astorg AGM. If anything like usual, we will drink the world's best wines, God Bless the French. Sonnet stays home with the kids so I feel a bit guilty ... for a shallow moment, oh well. Truth be known, I would prefer to not travel at all (family holidays of course excluded) but since I must - at least I am going to European capitals instead of Houston. Or Cleveland. So I remind myself, as I do every day - life is good, and I feel blessed.

World Cup qualifier England Vs. Ukraine kicks off inside the hour - Eitan perched on the sofa watching the pre-game memorising, no doubt, people and scores. It's pins and needles for 90 minutes and the entire country tuned in. Come on, England!

Update: England wins a thriller 2-1 on John Terry's goal at 84 minutes. The team is now 5-0 with Capello.

Righteous

I dress up as a surfer for Madeleine's classroom to tell an on-the-fly story about made-up legends Frank Capatola and arch-rival and nemesis Spokane Aurora (Capatola BTW a small beach town near Santa Cruz where I used to boogy-board as a little dude). Somewhere in there I discuss Big Waves, the California Culture and of course.. surfing. Accompanying my effort, I bring in The Beach Boys "Pet Sounds" to focus the urchin's minds.. the highlight, though, the beginning when I strip off my shoes and pants to display baggy surf-shorts and flip-flops.. and then the wig and dark glasses+OP Shirt, straight from the late 1970s. I'm the first to admit not perfect, but my faux-accent ("duuuude! That's righteous!") catches the moment (I hope). Madeleine bugged-eyed and it is well worth the effort to see her proud, smiling face: yes, Dad is a weirdo, but he's my Dad... I ask her how I did on the way out, and get a big thumb's up.

Here is a link to a Stanford story regarding the university's partnership with Katie.

Floating

Here is a very cool image taken by Devi Gill, who I used to swim with in grade-school. So the Big News is Barack Obama, who arrived sometime today for the G20 and stays in undisclosed Mayfair for meetings in Westminster and at the Excel Conference Center in the East End. Naturally, protests have taken place since Sunday, and the general theme seems to be the Developing World, which must not be forgotten. I think also the Brits love a good parade - who doesn't - as long as they are not on record nor front-and-cente. Join the crowd! Otherwise, the President's car, fondly named "The Beast" at the January inauguration, on site to chauffeur Obama through town. A full-page Times spread notes the bullet-fortified plates, air-tight seal (for chemical gas or biological whatever), spike-rejecting tires and internal weaponry including anti-missile and machine gun. To get to the Excel Center, Obama will use the Air Force helicopter also equipped with the latest gadgetry... so all this begs the question: why in earth's name is the G20 in London instead of an off-shore military safe-site? The NATO headquarters outside Brussels, for instance, fully locked-down and near an airport. Save the tax-payer a buck, for Pete's sake, and let us drive in the streets.

I have been pondering Dick Cheney's recent self-defeating appearance on CNN where he told John King the country less safe now that Obama the president. Such unbecoming and unprecedented sour grapes and even Bush has, rightly, not questioned the new leadership - so why would the Vice President (other than the fact he's a asshole)? Well, for one - Obama a master at slipping in the knife - just ask Bill Clinton, then Hillary and finally McCain, who all merrily self-destructed whilst taking on the under-rated new-comer. Next, Obama allows his opponents to do the damage - McCain has nobody to blame but himself for Alaska. Finally, he keeps them left-footed. With Cheney, Obama fuels public anger re torture &c. by side-stepping a formal investigation - at the same time releasing information, primarily internal memos, that connect Bush and Cheney and Gonzales and Yoo et al to contraventions of the Geneva Conventions. While it's warm, it brews.. . Cheney, I think, now desparately using his last podium to change the story-arc; if not, he may find a gentle tap-tapping on his shoulder at some foreign airport.. the Spanish now debate, for instance, whether to bring the Bush cabinet to trial, in abstention, in an international court of law. How soothing... ahhh.

It is "checkers-day" and the kids allowed to wear black-and-white to school. Eitan draws a chess board and tapes it to his chess; Madeleine wears black pants and white flannel shirt which she otherwise sleeps in.

Dutch

I spend the day in Amsterdam and even take my camera - but only have time for this lame-ass picture at the departing airport. Oh well. Did you know that KLM is the oldest airline in the world still operating under its original name and has 30,118 employees? Wikipedia told me that. I do have time to visit the Rijksmuseum and revisit Rembrandt's "The Night Watch" and Vermeers' "The Milkmaid" which is so beautiful I well up for a moment. Somehow he captures his figure inhaling as she pours milk - simple, totally, and yet a perfect moment captured at day-break with light beaming into a shabby room which he imprints perfectly. Bravo. I also enjoy Frans Hals and Jan Steen; van Gogh has his own nearby museum but sadly I miss this time. So anyway, I arrive yesterday sacrificing a cherished Sunday afternoon to make The Hague (though Eitan, standing by me right now burping, farting and laughing his head off makes me wonder .. ) I have a meeting this morning with Jos, the head of one of the world's largest pension schemes by asset-size and we go head-to-head. Jos always contrarian, loud and loves an arguement. So this morning we talk about the state of venture capital, and whether it remains an asset class. The problem, you see, the last eight years when nobody has made a return, though if we go back twenty years from 1987 to 2007 (admittedly missing the last critical twelve-months but data not ready) we see that venture's median gross performance 16% and top quartile around 35%. This beats everything including buy-out, hedge fund and long only strategies and so forth. It also tells me that when a fellow like Jos this negative it is exactly the right time to invest in venture capital. Despite this little chestnut, I am otherwise unable to convince Jos of anything but this does not mean I don't enjoy our conversation - in fact, the opposite. It is the rare occassion I learn something private equity related that is not industry gossip. Jos may be difficult but he has been investing capital in Europe and North America in all strategies for >20 years and has lived several recessions and at least one bubble, so his opinion counts. Our two+ hours together I hope as useful for him as me.

Madeleine returns from Pizza Express.
Eitan: "What did you have?"
Madeleine: "Pizza."
Eitan: "What else?"
Madeleine: "Pizza."

Sonnet to me: "Hello, luv. I've missed you."

Me to Eitan: "What do you think people do at work?"
Eitan: "send texts and write emails?"

London Fridays And Prisoner Isolation

Eitan, for some reason, decides to read on the stairs - complete with blanket which was a baby gift from Spencer and Alex. Spencer was a colleague in business school who hit it big at a hedge fund but before he became one of the immortals we suffered our relocation to London, for our wives, by drinking vodka martinis on Friday nights. Wives included, of course. Those were good moments and we were full of London and its newness. Alex was on the fast track at JP Morgan before putting it aside for Spencer and their three children - they now live in Westport, Connecticut. On her I say: stay tuned.

So I am finishing Polish writer Lem Stanislaw's sci-fi classic Solaris - from the jacket: "When Kris Kelvin arrives at the planet Solaris to study the ocean that covers its surface he is forced to confront a painful, hitherto unconscious memory embodied in the physical likeness of a long-dead lover. Others suffer from the same affliction and speculation rises among scientists that the Solaris ocean may be a massive brain that creates incarnate memories, but its purpose in doing so remains a mystery . . .
'Solaris' raises a question that has been at the heart of human experience and literature for centuries: can we truly understand the universe around us without first understanding what lies within?"

I connect Solaris to this week's New Yorker story and isolation, which 25,000 US prisoners face in solitary confinement - in some states, as much as 7% or 8% of the prison population. Studies show, and POWs confirm, that lack of social contact for ten days effects personality and over three months presents extreme trauma and loss-of-self. The New Yorker's rhetorical question: "Is this torture?" Indeed, our nation too easily slipped into Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib but the foundation laid for twenty years when America began building maximum security prisons with isolation centers .. shows like "24" and violent mainstream media and video further de-sensitized us to our treatment of citizen convicts .. and all prisoners for that matter. Unfortunately and not surprisingly, these people are more of a (violent) societal threat when returned to freedom. Contrast this to Britain which has also monitored prisoner violence creep - the government here decided not punishment, but integration the best route and, in fact, environmental change dramatically tempers aggression. So America must ask: are we, as individuals, not equal to how we treat the poorest and least privileged? Are we making our society better or safer?

Redman

Here is bad-ass Josh Redman who plays Ronnie Scott in SoHo last week, selling out three nights. Josh was in the Berkeley High Jazz band with Katie, who was on the flute. Both performed at the Monterrey Jazz Festival and Casedero Music Camp, graduating same year and attending Harvard. Josh stuck with his music and now, famous in his own right, no longer needs his dad Dewie's introduction; Dewie of course a jazz legend. Sonnet and I saw Dewie in a rare performance at the Jazz Cafe in Camden some many years ago and I spoke to him briefly about Berkeley and knowing his son. The old man had a presence and watchful, intelligent eyes I recall. We have seen Josh several times at the same venue and others like the London Jazz Festival. He's one to be proud of.

Bean Town

More tall buildings, more strange angles (crap photo from mobile phone). This time, in Boston and the one in the back is the John Hancock Building. I fly into town yesterday to meet the fellows at Correlation Ventures, but arrive tardy for dinner as my flight delayed. I take a sleeping pill and wake up a the crack of dawn to lift some weights then have breakfast with Todd, which is always a load of fun. As ever, we crack jokes about First Boston and the stressed out jackos we worked with. From there, it is an afternoon of due-diligence and then.. the airport. No time even for a museum. I pop another pill and sleep on the plane and presto! back to London and my office. I would rather have it this way then miss a weekend of family. So back to the tower, which is fun to riff on. The 60 stories completed in 1976 with all sorts of problems: the initial foundation warped damaging utility lines, the sidewalk pavement and nearby buildings including the historical Trinity Church across the street. Then there was the new mirrored blue glass .. windowpanes detached from the building and crashed to the sidewalk hundreds of feet below .. and if that not enough, the building's upper-floor occupants suffered from motion sickness when the building swayed in the wind. I feel a bit nervous frankly being anywhere near the thing but, really, it is a beautiful structure and iconic. It gives little Boston its own steel and glass building just like Midtown. Too bad about those Yankees.

Deflate

The UK's retail pricing index (RPI) indicates the country is entering a deflationary period. Combined with recession, this an omen. To explain, there are two types of deflation: good and bad (so simple). Good deflation driven by demand, which increases production to meet the demand .. increased production introduces economies of scale and per widget prices fall .. fuelling more demand netting an expansionary economy, jobs and a nice, happy, little society. This is what occurred during Britain's industrial revolution or the US in the 1920s. Bad deflation is supply driven - there is too much of it. Unsold inventory forces discounting, lowering income and reducing profits should cost cutting not match -which eventually it does.. people laid-off reducing purchasing (demand) further and down we go. Worse, in bad-deflation we cannot trust earnings forecasts by public and private companies we invest in, which means they may be.. worthless! If one considers that the standard MBA discounted-cash-flow model applies 80% of an enterprise's economic value in the terminal value (ie, multiple applied after, say, the fifth-year forecast) and earnings declining due to deflation.. well, you see the idea. This is why so critical to stim-u-late today and not get distracted by the vast amount of Federal debt. Recall that the Great Depression ended thanks to WWII (not FDR, but he set us on the right path) - the war produced the greatest government works program known to man and saw our leverage to GDP ratio surpass 120%. Today, despite trillions, we are not above 20% - a freaky number for sure but the alternative, should today's progam not work, is a generation of economic stagnation. See Japan for the details.

A car picks me up in 20 minutes to Boston via Heathrow.
Wonderful photo from Richard Franke. I had a couple XXX ideas, you know - of limpness- but not appropriate for Moe, Stan and whomever else reading.

Robot

Government, surveillance and military intertwined and threaten our civil liberties - today, it is announced that British Ministers pursue access, sans judge or legal order, to our individual private Internet usage, including social networks like Facebook, MySpace and Bebo which have tens of millions of accounts. This likely counters European law and civil rights activists are rightly upset. For the record I have no problem targeting websites spreading damned mischief+monitoring visitors to those sights, under a court's guidance. Random investigations into my, or anybodies Internet usage a treasure chest: buying habits, health concerns, sexual orientations and so forth can all be pieced together rapidly. While thinking about this, check out the latest US military arsenal - pictured. This little baby mounts a weapons platform onto a Talon robot which is part of The Special Weapons Observation Reconnaissance Detection System, or SWORDS system. It allows soldiers to fire small arms weapons by remote control from 1,000 meters away (picture from the 24th Army Science Conference). The Talon not yet in Iraq but maybe soon. One would say never in a civilian population but who knows - surveillance drones being tested in British cities. How would you like to be nabbed shop-lifting with one of these things?

Eastward Ho!

This the last of a series of photographs from Sunday. We were crossing the Lambeth Bridge (five wrought-iron, lattice-girder spans supported on cast-iron columns with ornate capitals carry two railway tracks across the river) and my image faces East; here is the same facing West from the Golden Jubulee Bridge (three flat ferro-concrete arches are faced with Portland stone). Otherwise, Sonnet at Jury duty for ten weeks on a murder trial which she refuses to discuss with me, per judges orders. Boooring. Last night I met Ruth Simmons who is in London raising shekels for student-aid. Simons being Brown University's 18th president and first black president of an Ivy League institution (I think also first female, but unconfirmed). I tell her my era was wonkish Howard Swearer who was replaced by the brilliant and loved Vartan Grigorian - who, though I had met him only once or twice on campus, remembered me with a big smile when I bumped into him on the Upper East Side ten years post graduation. Like Vartan, Simmons has amazing presences and instills confidence, though she is not as academically unusual and more administrative - like many Americans she is unafraid to ask for money and proudly announces her "Boldly Brown" campaign of $1.4B ahead of pace despite the climate with $1.32B in the bank. When I was a student, we were last in the Ivy and today our fundraising third after Princeton and Dartmouth. Just shows what leadership can do. So I tell Ruth (as she likes to be called) that Sonnet went to Smith and "we have been watching your career with great interest." I was tempted to ask her during a Q&A whether the 13 story Sciences Library ("Sci Li") still sinking, as every Freshman believed in '85. Probably best that I kept the smart-ass to myself.

Millbank Tower

Shot on the South Embankment, from Westminster Bridge facing West. The tall building Millbank House or the headquarters of the Conservative Party. Lit up by the sunset, I think, the MI5 which is the British Secret Intelligence Service or James Bond and Money Penney and all that. On that subject, Google maps is now at street-level, similar to San Franciso. Googlers can see one's block or their neighbors .. or Tony Blair, Super Gee and Kate Moss .. but not Matt Brittin who runs Google UK. His is a black-out. Go figure. I'm not sure how I feel about this BTW - I kind of like the anonymity of one's home in the Big City - certainly several dudes photo'd by Google entering a sex-house weren't especially pleased to see their faces turning up when that block searched.. now their faces scratched out. Is there no privacy? And where does this go? We already have the highest concentration of CCTV anywhere in the world by a long shot.. and the police testing surveillance drones above Manchester .. not to mention a children's database being built reported by yesterday;s Times which is a clear violation of our children's and our civil rights. What scares me really is "the creep" of it all... nobody protests the small stuff then - bam!- Big Brother knows everything.

Southbank

Yuval and Ynon and Shai - we spend the afternoon together on the Southbank catching up and talking about kids, the recession and other things effecting everything. Our friends and us are squarely in the middle of the financial and economic melt-down. '97 MBAs are along in their careers and comfortable with a lifestyle .. and now if not taken away, certainly we are worried. The younger generations I feel for - I met a Brown guy recently who had been into the first year of Lehman's Analyst program or the same one I completed at First Boston, immediately post-college. He is now looking into other areas, anything, and the truth is there is nothing. By the time the inevitable return occurs there will be another wave of fresh faces to fill the holes. My advice to him: medicine. But he wants the bucks now and not willing to invest another eight years in education though he completed pre-med in college and his parents both doctors. I suppose at least he can live at home - I did for a couple years before grad-school and while working for non-profit Help The World See. And you know, I am grateful for that time with my parents. I got to know them as an adult - thanks mom and dad for feeding me. Anyways, Shai runs one of Richard Branson's business and has always been humble despite his success - like nobody I know, he tells it straight and is respected for it. Guys like this are valuable in good times and more so today.

Core

If anyone curious how I get Madeleine to sit still - going charge is £1 per pose. Here we are in the main gallery of the Tate Modern, where the current display is - as always - weird. In this case, it is French artist Dominique Gonzalez-Foerstar who works with video and installations filling the turbine hall wall-to-wall with empty bunk beds holding science-fiction and Nazi literature; in the center, an enormous steel spider+egg sack surrounded by A) one dinosaur skeleton, B) marble obelisk; C) Apple core (pictured) and D) video screen showing 1950s and '60s sci-fi. Neat. Gonzazalez-Foerstar won the Marchel Duchamp Prize in 2002 for similar work.

Note Madeleine's work-book - she records her dailyl activities and pastes all sorts of things - one page, for instance, bird feathers of various sorts most dramaticly one that is bright yellow. From where?

Jade Goody

The Tate Britain yesterday, where we catch the boat to the Tate Modern with Shai, Ada and their boys. The Britain houses our treasures including the largest collection of JMW Turner who I personally cannot stand.

There have been three instances since arriving in the UK where I have been caught off guard by the mainstream, which is to say something happening within the wider British culture which I have missed or misunderstood. Two of them include Jade Goody, whose death from cancer this weekend at age-27 has caused a national outpouring while the third being Diana. Jade thrust herself into our national psyche when she appeared on Big Brother 3 in 2002 (the Queen's jubilation celebration year BTW); Big Brother for those somehow unawares was the first reality TV program in the UK showing 11 self-imprisoned co-eds ("housemates") bitching, loving and hating each other live, 24-7 - slowly thrown off the show by popular vote. There have been umpteen spin-offs since cheep, puerile entertainment. Jade was the target of ridicule for displaying a severe lack of general knowledge for a British native. Goody, for instance, thought that the English city of Cambridge was in London. On being told that Cambridge is in East Anglia she thought Africa and referred to it as "East Angular." My exposure to Big Brother occurred at the very ending when final contestants remained and I woke up blinkered to see the final hours played out in the national press whilst an estimated 45 million viewers tuned. There are 61 million of us here. Goody went on to write books, launch a diet and remain in the press's eye - perfect for the wired-all-the-time-short-attention-span-titillate-me era. She made a brief comeback on BB 5 when accused of racism for attacking "Shilpa Pashwa whoever you fucking are" - Shilpa being the most famous movie star in Ballywood. Riots ensued. Then perversely on Indias Big Brother in August '08 where Jade trying to make amends, she learned of her cervical cancer on the show. Ever since, she has opened her life to the media in order to put aside enough money for her two boys to go to private school and be taken care of. For Jade, who came from nothing and described as "Diana, but from the wrong side of the track", the rise a Cinderella story of rags to riches .. listening to an interview of her from 2007 I admit to being struck by her pluck - she noted the '02 BB was a vacation from her sick mother and abusive boy-friend. Ultimately, she raises awareness of cancer and becomes a roll model - anybody can pull themselves together and out. Jade did it.

Rugby Union

I am not a ruby fan but watch transfixed last nights Six Nations Championship between Ireland and Wales - no sissy cricket this. The annual international rugby union competition includes England, France, Ireland, Italy, Scotland and Wales. The game is the most brutal of any, excluding boxing, and the players hurl themselves at their opponents and blood often everywhere. Within minutes of the start two lads are fighting - punches! - and the refs defer to the other players to separate the pugilists. Surprisingly, given the er roughness, rugby is the elitist sport played in the public schools (ie, the private schools) across Britain .. of course in the US it is suburban soccer which considered upper-crust while baseball the blue-collar companion. Our friend Richard, who used to play competitively, unknowingly broke his neck in a scrum - coach wouldn't let Richard back in the game or he would not be with us now. Eventually he went to the hospital for the pain .. where he waited four hours in emergency. When he was finally examined - boom!, on the ground with nine care-providers circling him and likely saving his life. No way will Eitan be doing same. So anyways, last night's game down to the final five minutes when Ireland scores the go-ahead cross kick for 15-13 then, no time remaining, Wales unable to convert a 48m penalty kick which falls short by a meter. If successful they would now be champions but instead, heartbreak. It doesn't get more exciting than this in any sport, though Cal's '82 Big Game not to be surpassed. For the record, Ireland's Grand Slam title their first time since 1948, and they also take the Triple Crown by beating England, Scotland and Wales. I can almost feel Dublin's hang-over this morning ..

Photo uncredited from the www.

Tobias

Sunday morning and Madeleine does her Kumon - with usual healthy resistance. It is a lovely spring morning and her brother at football so all she really wants to do is go to the park. She begs - pleeeaaaase mum -until Sonnet gives in and promises to do so after making afternoon meatballs. Me, I'm out the door early to run around Richmond Park preparing for the marathon. The first mile or so always miserable but afterwards it is all good - park mostly empty and a brilliant early sunshine. I see chef Gordon Ramsey cruise by .. he's impossible to miss since his party lines run deep into his face .. I understand he runs London every year and he sails by at a pretty fast clip. Yesterday Eitan goes bowling for Orlando's 8th birthday party and I pick him and pal Tobias up in Kingston, post-action. I like Tobias who wears his hair below his shoulders - I ask him casually whether he puts it into a pony tail and when he will cut it next - he tells me yes, and when it reaches his waste. The boys consider this for a moment. Tobias's father a musician in the London orchestra and German, so I ask Tobias to speak his foreign tongue .. when he can't think of anything off the cusp I suggest: "you smell like a dead cat." We crack up. I add helpfully: "tu sent comme un chat mort" telling them that is how you say "you smell like a dead cat" in french. More guffaws, Eitan rolls his eyes but loves (I think) my attention at their level. On the drive home through Richmond Park we discuss bands, football and favorite foods - this is what is on their mind.

Red Barret

The school kids are allowed to wear whatever the hell they want today, so Eitan goes as a clown while Madeleine a frog- pictured. She's utterly cool of course. After the school run, Sonnet and I awknowledge spring having lunch in Richmond next to the Thames. I recover from a most excellent evening with high-school pal Dan who is in town to interview Fergus Henderson for Men's Journal - Fergus being the founder chef of favorite St John's restaurant. Since Dan has been at St John's all week, we dine at La Caprice then Sonnet and I head for Soho to see saxophonist Joshua Redman at Ronnie Scott's - Josh another Berkeley High grad who famously turned down Yale Law School to pursue his father Dewie into music, thank goodness for us. Sadly we are unable to get tickets so instead find ourselves at the Lab bar and consequently I am a bit slower for it today. No complaints, mind you - it has been a while since Sonnet and I have enjoyed an evening in the city's underbelly.

I ask Eitan about my classroom story yesterday - replies he: "It is the longest we have ever gone in school without learning anything." (Ouch!)

David, Ho!

David awaits his son Bertie, who swims in the heats before Eitan. David and I have known each other many years watching our boys and girl on the football pitch - spring, summer, fall, winter - yes, we have been sun-burnt, soaked, frozen and miserable but there has also been great joy watching our kids advance. David runs an executive placement business and before that, University Newcastle and a farm where he grew up. He is true-blood English and his season tickets to Chelsea an endless point of ribbing or congratulating, depending on the team's performance.

Kit Kat Cowboy

I am invited to Eitan's classroom to share the American West during the school's arts week. Another father, Mitch, teaches Irish song-dance and we have French, German and other nationalities covered.

My "deep experience" results from summer's in Colorado so I play the Cowboy, complete with orange cowboy hat, silver Sheriff's badge and green bandanna or as I tell Sonnet: "the gayest man in the Wild West." I arrive with Willie Nelson a few photo books (thank you Stan and Silver) which the kids pass around to get a sense of America's outdoors then I launch into story with old-time favorite (in our house anyway) of Kit Kat Cowboy and his adopted orphan sidekick Billings Montana (the kids squeal at this - me forgetting Hannah Montana - I'm such a dork). Of course I am in character and ham up my Western 'twang.

Kit Kat now the Sheriff while Billings Montana his side-kick relief and since he is the class-room's age the children can bond with him. I suppose. Then there is Jesse James and his Outback Gang and really my tale about their train-robberies in the fictional town of Freeport, North Dakota or, ominously, "the Badlands of the West" I announce. Kit Kat plays the Gary Cooper as twenty-four hours tick down to the gold-trains arrival .. and Jesse James's stick-up. Nobody in Freeport willing to support the Sheriff but in the end they come to his rescue and Jesse driven from town .. in the midst we listen to "Mama Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys" and "Georgia On My Mind" to set the ambiance. I take a few questions in the end then ride on outta there into the fading sun. All in a days work, yes sirree.

Gala Final

We're back at the Richmond Pool for the Gala Championships Final. Given the limited space accommodating a maximum 250 parents and their 200 children, the thing is remarkably efficient right down the starting-horns which beep the racers off. Eitan swims the 33meter freestyle in trials - pictured, green cap, by lane two - placing fourth overall and making the evening's finals which take the top-six. In between, he sits around with his class cheering his team-mates and looking kinda bored which is kinda me in the stands. Being a parent is being a spectator. When I was a swimmer, the down-time - and there was plenty of it - filled with endless games of "hearts", music walkmen and flirting. Probably all to come for Eitan but who knows? Finally his race arrives and he anxiously, dutifully files up to his starting block which he won't use preferring to go from the wall. The boys shake their arms furiously and look to the stands for.. approval? Support? Eitan ignores me which is par for the course when I have my camera. And they're off! But Eitan's goggles fall from his face - he stops - then churns his arms furiously for ... fourth place! But wait - the winner disqualified for a false start and Eitan gets a meddle! All of us thrilled, especially he. Eitan's squad takes second place for their age and brings the school a healthy trophy.