Golden Duck

Madeleine and I visit Richmond Park this morning to feed the ducks (or "the quackers" or "quacky quacks" as she once called them). This one smart enough to be away from the badelynge and I reward her with bread for being an entrepreneur. We do not have enough of these birds in our country and soon it may get worse as taxes go up and people bail. Jim Ratcliffe, for instance, the UK's most successful post-war entrepreneur is moving to Switzerland to escape Gordon Brown; Ratcliffe founded Britain's largest private company -- chemicals group Ineos in 1998 -- and is taking 20 of his execs with him. This will save him, and cost us, over £100MM but worse (for us) he will not try another company in Britain, taking his potential with him.

No doubt I hear rumblings of re-location from my group and this year we will see a number of our best friends leave London. For most ex-pats, there is an exodus after a couple of years when a rotation is up and before strong networks established; then again (we found) between five and seven years as permanency looms. Following seven the die usually cast: passports, property ownership, kids in Brit schools and, generally, a sense of citizenship. That is us, anyway.

Now we all do the math: 50% top-tax rate, (from April 6) £30,000 levy on non-domiciled tax payers and the cut in pension tax relief for those making more than £130K. HM Revenue and Customs threatens to tax more of our income earned over seas. Once, smart people came here because they trusted Britain's stability and relied on her promise not to soak the wealth from the economy's earners. This is by no means an inexpensive place to do business - London ranked 16th costliest in the world in '09 by Forbes, down from #3 due to Stirling's depreciation - yet there are many reasons to be here starting with a density of educated, specialist people in media, finance, arts and banking. They are also the most fluid and likely to leave. Will we bugger the Golden Goose?

"Things fall apart; the center cannot hold

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity."

--William Butler Yeats

She Sells Sea Shells

Madeleine's visit to Exmouth scores a crab's shell, which she brings home to me: "I like that it is not a perfect shell. It is nice but not perfect. I don't like fancy shells. Well, I do like them, but I think this one is really cool." I agree with Madeleine - cool. This exoskeleton makes me think of something other-worldly which, perhaps, is fair since the first crab fossils date from the Jurassic. This one, pictured, about the size of my hand while the smallest, a pea crab, a few millimetres wide. The Japanese spider crab, on the other hand, has a leg span of four-meters.

Madeleine: "I have spring fever!"

Sonnet: "What does that mean?"

Madeleine: "It is when you really want to do something now."

Sonnet: "What do you want to do?"

Madeleine: "Run around in Richmond Park and be crazy and be free."

Tube And Arab

My friend from the go-go years, Azeem Azhar, takes this photo using a Helga Viking lens, 'float' film without a flash. Way cool.

So here is my weird Underground factoid which, dear reader, I consider more often than sometimes when on the tube: the record for visiting all 275 stations is 18 hours, 35 minutes and 43 seconds. No kidding. It was done by Geoff Marshall from Epsom, Surrey, and Neil Blake from Deptford, south-east London, on September 28, 2004. They have kept their route secret, God bless.

My first commute in London originated from our flat in north-central Maida Vale: I caught the Bakerloo Line from the Warwick tube station (in Duffy's '09 Billboard top-ten hit "Warwick Avenue") to Oxford Circus then the Central Line to Chancery Lane and Botts & Company. The trains crowded and the transfer not pleasant - we marched long, florescent tunnels affronted by bill-board advertising and cinema posters. Sometimes a dude would read The Sun with its Page 3 girl - tits! - and I always thought: no shame? There are serious women in pantyhose on the trains. But The Sun is Britain's #1 daily so what did I know then (and now)? My favourite commute, BTW, several years later from Lauderdale Mansions (Maida Vale) to eZoka's offices, a strait shot from W9 boarding a route-master on Maida Vale Avenue to the Edgware Road (once a Roman thruway) to Nutford Place. This strange area, a few blocks north of Hyde Park's speaker's corner, most Arab. London perhaps Europe's most accommodating city and the Edgware Road where the wealthy Middle East comes during their summer when temperatures 35-degrees C or higher. From June to August it is also 24/7 and young people and men smoke hookahs, spilling onto the busy street from restaurants like Abu Zaad, Patogh and Beirut Express. Sonnet and I once had Friday dates at Lebanese Fatoush where I ate raw, spiced lamb and tabouli. These are good memories if not always the best times.

"I tried many times before, but not managed it because of the trains or injuring my knee."

--Geoff Marshall on setting the Tube record

Freedom And No Freedom

Spring has arrived and how quickly life cheers up. Here I am before an Anish Kapoor.

Since Sonnet in Devon with the kids, I spend my evenings with Tommy, drink red wine and read books. Does this make me an alcoholic? Probably so. My clothes piling up in the corner or on the bed post. The mornings are luxurious - two hours peace before going into the office .. whenever. The sunlight floods our bedroom from 6AM and, I must admit, I am feeling pretty good with myself. Last night I am out until past Midnight with Arnaud and his fiancee- we have dinner at a trendy Brazilian-Sushi restaurant in Chelsea - did you know that Brazil has the largest Japanese population outside of Japan? According to the IBGE, there is somewhere around 1.5 million Japanese in Brazil vs. 1.2 million in the US. Go figure. So .. Arnaud is from Paris and a fund investor whom I was with recently in Chantilly. He is clever and I respect his judgements of people and their situational circumstances. While most (and especially MBAs) consider themselves a good "read" of character, Arnaud is.

The Times reports that President George W Bush knew that hundreds of detainees held at Guantanamo Bay were innocent, but covered the fact up for political reasons. Retired Army Col. Lawrence B. Wilkerson, who served as chief of staff to Secretary of State Colin Powell, has testified that officials "knew that they had seized and were holding innocent men at Guantanamo." and "They simply refused to release them out of fear of political repercussions." The Times reports that Wilkerson's assertions are supported by General Powell. This inglorious period will not be remembered kindly by history. I sometimes wonder what it was like during McCarthyism or Vietnam, Watergate or other self-inflicted dark periods. Now I know.

"I discussed the issue of the Guantanamo detainees with Secretary Powell. I learnt that it was his view that it was not just Vice-President [Dick] Cheney and [Defense] Secretary [Donald] Rumsfeld, but also President Bush who was involved in all of the Guantanamo decision making.

--Lawrence Wilkerson

Kumon. Always Kumon

Madeleine has worked hard at Kumon, pictured, for at least several years and has shown great progress now doing long-multiplication. We hope, at minimum, Kumon gives her confidence which neither Sonnet nor I had towards math as youngsters. Or adults, for that matter: I was totally exposed on Wall Street. I squirmed when my worksheets proofed - what misery. I would wish to avoid the same awkwardness for Madeleine yet appreciate she, well, frankly, hates Kumon or, more generally, numbers. As a solution, we have reduced her daily practice by several pages which seems to have worked for the moment. Kumon goes all the way to calculus but I think we shall quit once Madeleine's maths foundation established. She would suggest the sooner, the better.

Hear My ...

Sonnet, now a full-time mom, takes the kids into town while I to work - here are the little dears, pictured, by Lord Nelson's column (Nelson being out-of-view) and a lion, one of three (NB: England's coat of arms, adopted in 1198, is three lions and a symbol of the kingdom and monarchs. In '95, the song "Three Lions" by the Lightening Seeds the official anthem for the England football team during the European Championships held in England). Roar. After visiting the National Portrait Gallery (Madeleine: "Not another museum! I go to a museum every day." Me: "When was the last time you went to a museum?" Madeleine: "The British Museum , like, three weeks ago." Me: "Ok, before that?" Madeleine: "Who cares Dad.") where they see Irving Penn Portraits, Sonnet heads to Chinatown for a late-lunch. Later, Madeleine brags about chicken's feet, which she orders on her own initiative with delight. She is a risk-taker, my daughter, and I love it.

The BBC reports on the 6PM news that four hedge-hogs are overweight and must be put on a diet. They are unable to "get into a ball." Seriously - I just listened to this.

Coco Rocks

Kellogg's "Coco Pops Coco Rocks," which seems kind of redundant to me, gets the kids out of bed early. Recall that I, in a moment of bon vivant, allowed the Shakespeares to celebrate the spring break with a cereal of their choice. They go "all in." The box has a bland computer generated image of a squarel with large, cartoon eyes, black nose and red tongue - all sickly seductive colours. He wears a baseball cap with a chocolate-coloured "C." For us, the responsible parent, the packaging presents a different message: 'source of fibre' - check. 'Fortified with vitamins and iron' - check. 'No added coulours' - double check. 'Multi-grain made with four gains' - check, check, check! Meanwhile Madeleine squeals that there is "chocolate filling" in the Coco Pops Coco Rocks and this makes me wonder: what the hell is this cereal made of? Again, the helpful packaging:; Cereal Flours (Maize [33%]), Oat (9%), rice (7%), wheat (6%), sugar, Chocolate Flavour Filling (14%)(Sugar, Vegetable Oil, Fat Reduced Cocoa Powder, Cocoa Mass, Skimmed Mile Powder); Milk Whey Powder, Emulsifier, Glucose Syrup, Cocoa Powder, Chocolate (3.5%), Salt, Tricalcium Phosphate, Calcium Carbonate, Sodium Bicarbonate, Flavouring, Antioxidant (Ascorbyl Palmitate, Alpha Tocopherol), Niacin, Iron, Vitamin B6, Riboflavin (B2), Thiamin (B1), Folic Acid, Vitamin B12.

I don't know what half of it is though I imagine somebody had a whale of a time in the lab inventing this shit. I wonder if the rats ate it? Eitan and Madeleine sure do.

"I can't believe parents don't like them."

--Eitan

Broccoli

Madeleine leaves the worst for last and tonight that means broccoli. I promise her "no desert" unless her plate clean and she calculates exactly how much she must finish to the nibble (pictured). Joe joins us today, a bank holiday, and with Eitan we kick the ball around until dinner time, but not before they and Madeleine chase water rowers on the pond. Joe's family is off for Spain tomorrow while Sonnet and the kids to Devon Wednesday to visit Halley. Two weeks, no school. Ah, yes, to be a kid.

Mike Troy

My photo of Mike Troy at the Heather Farms swimming complex in Walnut Creek, California, in 1983. Mike was my coach before college when I competed with the Walnut Creek Aquabears for several seasons. Back then, the men and women's teams won Jr Nationals and Top-5 for Seniors. We had guys like Dave Bottom who won NCAA titles in the backstroke and set American records (Dave's brothers Mike and Joe legendary swimmers from the '70s); crazy John Miranda, a world class sprinter in fellow NorCal Matt Biondi's shadow; and 12-year old Lisa Dorman who, by 16, was a four-time US National Champion, member of several US National Teams, Pan Pacific Champion, 1986 World Championship finalist, and consistently ranked among the world's top 25 from '82 until '90.

For us kids in the East Bay, Walnut Creek a posh suburb through the Caldecott Tunnel and beyond Lafayette (where Grace taught Montessori) and Concord-Pleasant Hill, which had its own successful swimming program. Before age-16 and without a driver's license, I commuted: home to Shattuck Ave. and Center on the No. 7 (now 67) bus then BART to the Rockridge station and finally a highway off-ramp pick-up to the pool. In all, a 1.5 hour job four-times a day beginning at 4:45AM (oh, boy, do I see this story growing like the ten-mile school walk but it is true, I swear). I eventually avoided half the travel by spending the day in Walnut Creek with my swim pals watching MTV, eating donuts, and doing nothing much else. We could have easily been stoners. My and Katie's first car changed everything (thank you again, mom and dad). More on that later.

Mike Troy was a tough-as-nails coach who loved his squad. He oversaw 250 swimmers divided by skill and endurance (sprint or distance, where I fell. Woe's me). Troy barked orders and roamed the poolside, clip-board to hand, rain or shine. He often made the girls on the team cry-- nobody thought this unusual. Fellow distance swimmer Chuck Goetschel would bang his hand on the concrete to demonstrate injury to get out of practice; he otherwise never missed a work-out. "Hell week" during the summer and Xmas holidays saw 20,000 yards of swimming - 11 miles! - a day. Troy had a wonderful Carmengia sports car (nicknamed "The Geek") and he would point at me or Beach or Frick and shout: "Do that time and The Geek is yours for the week end!" We hustled.

Before coaching, Mike Troy broke the world record in the 200-meter butterfly five consecutive times from 1959 to 1961. He won two gold medals at the 1960 Summer Olympics in Rome in the 200-meter butterfly and the 4X200 freestyle relay. After graduating Indiana University (he was an NCAA champion and school Hall Of Famer) Troy become a naval officer and went to BUD/S, or the Navy Underwater Demolition/SEALS. He was awarded for distinguished and heroic service in Vietnam. As a swim coach, Troy has developed many age group, junior and senior champions; over fifty of his kid swimmers have been on national and international teams, including four swimmers that he coached to the Summer Olympics. Troy is a member of the International Hall of Fame (1971) and the first swimmer on the cover of Sports Illustrated (August, 1960).

"I miss your face."

--Mike Troy in a letter to me in Geneva, 1983

Love

The kids pose for next year's Christmas photo. Not.

Somehow our winter ends this afternoon with gorgeous blue skies and lazy cumulus clouds floating overhead. The sun lingers in a friendly way on our horizon until 7:30PM. I think of the Beatles who, frankly, are always on my mind. In the sunshine, the temps ten-degrees warmer and Sonnet and I bask in the glory while the kids race about the playground, Primrose Hill. This is familiar ground though some time since our last visit. The Shakespeares beg me to catch them and I oblige, darting around startled mothers and swing sets. They squeal delight until I do not relent and Eitan freaks out: "leave me alone, Dad. I have had enough." Scott and Daniel join us with their twins, Sam and Leo, who are 18 months old. They arrive on bikes, one with a hi-tech contraption to transpo the kids. They used to have a Mercedes twin-seater lovingly named the "black bitch" but no more. Family will do that to you.

Me: "It is always good for your mother and I to get feedback. Like when you are happy with something, say 'good job' or if your are upset, that, too."

Madeleine: "Can I have a dog?"

Me: "Let me give you some feedback: no."

Easter Passover

We spend Easter Sunday in Primrose Hill with Dana and Nathan and their clan, hunting for eggs and eating glazed ham. Dana expecting #3 in June and her energy level amazing. How does she do it? Nathan flips Madeleine around to her and Eitan's delight. They are the guardians to our kids.

Tomorrow the last day of Passover. Moe tells me that when he was a youngster, his Grandparents hosted Cedar for 35 guests and the three hour ceremony entirely in Hebrew. Moe's Grandfather immigrated to America from Prussia to escape the pograms of the 1890s. He entered via Ellis Island (we are not sure whether his wife came by this route or in America already). My Great Grandparents orthodox Jews and I wonder - why St. Louis? Stay tuned.

"Get Out Of Bed. It's Easter."

I am muscled from bed this morning by Madeleine, who wishes to show me her and Eitan's Easter gift which I stumble over on my way to coffee. Before our bedroom door on grey construction paper with a few objects and one handmade paper airplane: "Dear Dad, Happy Easter. Have a great time with mum and us. Enjoy the presents I made for you. Make the most of having more time with us. Best wishes, Eitan."

A Few Conversations

Madeleine: "Is Italy in Great Britain?"

Sonnet: "Oh, dear."

Me: "Madeleine, march into the living room and get the Atlas."

Madeleine: "That is so unfair."

Me: "Well, it is Italy or no desert."

Madeleine (waling): "There is 179 pages and each one of the them is a map. That will take ages!"

Me: "Madeleine, you can figure it out."

Madeleine, from the floor, Atlas open: "Do you spell Italy with an 'A' or an 'E'?"

Sonnet: "With an 'I.'"

Madeleine: "Then what?"

She finds Italy, and puts the Atlas away.

Me: "Do you know where Britain is?"

Madeleine: "Why do you ask?"

Me: "Atlas, please."

Madeleine: "Oh, Dad, not again! It is in Europe!"

Me: "One of the things I like about you is that you think outside of the box."

Madeleine: "I think outside of a fox?"

Me: "A box. What do you think that means?"

Madeleine: "I don't know."

Me: "Do you always follow the rules?"

Madeleine: "Not all the time."

Me: "There you go."

Eitan, listening to the wireless, pokes his head in: "Oh my God - Manchester City scored three goals against Burnley in the first seven minutes!"

Me: "Wow, that's like if they were playing KPR."

Eitan: "Well, not really."

Tiger Woods dalliances are reported, further, in Vanity Fair.

Me: "This Tiger Woods thing is so absurd."

Madeleine: "Why?"

Me: "He wanted us to believe one thing about him while the other thing true."

Madeleine: "What did he want you to believe?"

Me: "That he was squeaky clean and a family man. But he is not."

Madeleine: "Is his house clean?"

Photo by Madeleine.

Evil

I have mostly avoided following the scandal inside the Roman Catholic Church. I am not Christian nor raising my kids with any form of organised religion. I am forced, however, to re-consider this position as Sonnet notes the Catholic Church one of the largest land-owners in Europe and the Pope has the authority to meet with global leaders. The Pope is followed by millions of people around the world while Catholicism is the fastest growing religion in Africa and many developing countries. The scandal matters and the Church's knee-jerk response to hide paedophiles abhorrent and touches us all. Sonnet tells me the Priest who married her parents in Anchorage, Alaska, disappeared suddenly in the 1970s with no public explanation. Stan and Silver learned years later that he had been transferred to a clinic to "rehabilitate" himself after his abuse of children discovered. Presumably he remained in the Church for many years after if not today. In Germany, the cover-up of a priest systematically abusing 200 deaf children shocking in its evil. The Church responds by comparing the response to Catholics as similar to the persecution of the Jews. This so wrong-footed it beggars belief.

Photo from texasescapes.com

Tommy

Madeleine's hamster "Tommy" has proven a good one - at least, he has not escaped. Yet. Madeleine loves to bring Tommy downstairs to show our guests whenever a dinner party or whatever. She holds him like a Popsicle. Unfortunately Tommy's nocturnal gnawing like a Makita power tool grinding away lead based paint. Madeleine to our bedroom in tears, unable to sleep, so we allow her the guest room while Sonnet remarks: "Tommy has his own room."

5K

Every Saturday morning, 9AM, there is a 5K from Richmond Gate which we observe on our way to Eitan's football. Since no practice Easter week-end, the boy decides to to give the race a go and I join him for encouragement and exercise. There are maybe 200 runners from good (winning time around 16 minutes) to the punter. Like me. For his part, Eitan very serious and, at the bang!, off to a quick start despite being counselled by yours, truly, to pace one's self. I suppose everyone learns the hard way. By midway our pace reduced and I have to bite my tongue to not coach him on posture, breathing and etc. &c. I remind myself that Moe never over-stepped when Katie and I youngsters and now it is my turn to let Eitan figure things out or from somebody other than dear old dad. Wish me luck BTW. So, at the race's end, Eitan makes a dash and finishes with style. He is pleased with himself and notes - "no walking."

Sugar

Sonnet recalls Madeleine's pet pineapple, which she named "Perfect Piny." PP was in our house for some time until, Madeleine reminds us, we ate it. The kids now drive each other crazy at the kitchen table doing homework and Kumon (I blog and ignore). Eitan sings the latest Cheryl Cole whatever and Madeleine takes the bait: "Stop it Eitan! I am trying to read!" Eitan: "Go in the other room then." Madeleine: "YOU go in the other room!" and so on and so forth. Sonnet assembles an Easter egg kit for some distraction while the rain lets up for the moment but dark clouds threaten overhead. Sonnet notes: "today for lounging" and I agree.

Over lunch:

Me: "What are some accomplishments we took from last term?"

Eitan: "Um, Manchester United...."

Me: "I mean us. What are you proud of?"

Eitan: "The swimming gala. KPR (who won their division) and Battle Of The Books" (a competition at school).

Madeleine: "Math, hand-writing and my literacy teacher."

Me: "Those are all excellent things. Sonnet, I think the kids deserve some sugar cereal as a reward."

Sonnet:

Madeleine pumps arm: "Yes!"

Eitan: "I want the chocolate chip cookie cereal!"

Madeleine: "I want the one with all sorts of fruity loops."

Me: "You mean Fruit Loops?"

Madeleine: "Yes. And Captain Crunch."

Sonnet:

Periwinkle

This beautiful flower is from Madagascar and hosted at the Greenhouse (unfortunately I did not note its name). Neighboring is the Madagascar periwinkle whose alkaloids vincristine and vinblastine are an effective treatment for leukaemia and lymphoma. Although poisonous if ingested, some 70 useful alkaloids have been identified from the sap, which has the attention of the pharmaceutical industry. In Madagascar, the extracts have been used for hundreds of years in herbal medicines for the treatment of diabetes, as hemostatics and tranquilizers, to lower blood pressure, and as disinfectants. The extracts are not without their side effects, though, which include hair loss. In the 1960s, the survival rate of childhood leukemia was less than 20%; today, thanks in part to the periwinkle, 95% of diagnosed cases in remission. One ton of leaves equals one treatment. Unfortunately, the periwinkle is only found in the Madagascar rain forest which continues to be quickly destroyed.

Sonnet: "Silver discovered she needed glasses at [age] 11, and nobody knew despite my grandfather being a doctor. She had a hard time reading or seeing the chalk-board."

Madeleine: "I don't want to wear glasses."

Sonnet: "Well, we are going to get your eyes checked for just in case."

Madeleine: "I don't mind wearing them for dress up. I just don't want to wear them for real."

Me: "You don't have to always wear glasses. You could have contacts."

Madeleine: "But I am just a kid!"

Eitan: "You could wear a monocle."

Me: "That would be pretty cool. You would be like 'here, here my dear boy. Pass me some more of those kippers."

We all crack up.

Potted Plant

From a placard:

"The World's Oldest Potted Plant? This plant (Encephalartos Altensteinii) has lived through Kew's entire history as a botanical garden! Collected by Kew's first plant-hunter, Francis Masson, it left the shores of the Eastern Cape in South Africa in 1773 and endured a long ocean voyage before finally arriving in Kew in 1775. This plant flourished as the French Revolution raged, while Trevithick invented the steam locomotive, and Armstrong walked on the moon. It was one of the first plants to be moved into the Palm House in 1848."

The plant also there during the American War of Independence (1775-1783) but I might not include this, either, if I was British. By birth, that is.

Bluebells

Easter Friday - a major holiday in England - and us at Kew Gardens so Sonnet can see the English bluebells, pictured. These, with the daffodils, a sure sign spring with us though one would never know - yes, cold and wet. The kids are happy to do a run around and beg for the gift-shop. Why do we always end up here? The Shakespeare's make Easter baskets at a crafts stall and Sonnet and I find a bench and drink coffee.

Pre-Easter

I am in the office today though nothing happening since Easter tomorrow and spring today, though you would never know it given: A) freezing cold and B) torrential rain/ thunder showers. Tomorrow begins the bank holiday week-end. Dear reader, we have been here before. I think this photo captures my mood.

TX #1

And to show that I am not only transfixed by football ... Texas wins its tenth NCAA swimming championship under 32nd-year head coach Eddie Reese Sunday in Columbus, Ohio. The Longhorns used nine top-eight finishes on the final day to power past Cal en route to the title. The team totaled 500 points and finished 30.5 points ahead of second-place California after trailing the Golden Bears by 18.5 points through day two of the three-day meet. We Bears fans are cursed.

Rubbing it in, the UT Tower lit No. 1 last night in recognition of, well, being No. 1. Per university tradition, the campus landmark shines orange when a Texas team wins a NCAA team championship. The women’s indoor track and field team most recently had the Tower lights shine in that fashion in 2006. Rat bastards.

I spent my Sr. year of high-school swimming with Cal, coached by legendary Nort Thorton, who had one lung so whispered most of the time. We were terrified of him. I trained with guys like Rob Schmidt and John Mykennan, who won a silver-medal in the '84 Olympics. Biondi was there, too, but rarely in the mornings- sprinter, after all. There were some Swedes like T.A. Debaise who set records in the 200 butterfly and freestyle and Bangt Barron, who won the NCAA 100m backstroke. These guys were smart- premed, engineering, sciences. Sound body, sound mind. I learned that one early.

My photo has nothing to do with this week's NCAA and instead a cool shot of Japanese swimmer Kosuke Kitajima setting a World Record in the 100m breaststroke going 58.91, becoming the first swimmer under 59-seconds. Photo from ABC sports. Rock on.

Barcelona And Endings

It is half-time in the Champions League and Arsenal v. Barcelona drones in the background, Eitan glued to the wireless (as Christian notes: a "mouth watering" match-up)(photo from Barcelona FC website). Barca one of Europe's class acts, certainly on par with the Red Devils or Chelsea or AC Milan. Eitan and I are still recovering from last night's ManU-Bayer Munich, who won 2-1 on a goal in the final seconds of extra time+Wayne Rooney down with an ankle injury. Eitan to bed, dog faced. And what does this mean for England? Without Rooney we don't have a chance in South Africa this June (World Cup, mom). Now I am not superstitious and would never suggest a curse but I have followed Cal my entire life and we have not been to a Rose Bowl since '58. Now that is cursed. Will I suffer same here? England mad for soccer, which is one of the great joys of living here. All the more chez-nous as Eitan's KPR Blues tops in their division and assured a promotion next year. Then the games will be tough but for now we enjoy, if not breath, the beautiful game.

So today a day of endings: Sonnet enjoys her last day at the V and A (her colleagues organise tea). We say good-bye to Natasha, who has been our nanny for three years. And tomorrow is the kids last day of school before Easter Break. I am the only one missing some conclusion of something. But really I am pre-occupied: Must. Make. Money.

Me: "Madeleine, if you don't eat your greens, I am going to give you more."
Madeleine: "That is so unfair."
Me: "Sorry, kid, there are some things out of my control."
Madeleine: "Dad, you are either with me or against me."
Me: "That is a pretty strong statement coming from an eight-year old."
Madeleine: "Which one is it?"
Me: "On the greens, I am against you."
Madeleine: "I cannot believe my own dad is against me. My own dad."

Bruce And Roger

I seem to be on memory lane so here are my college room-mates Bruce and Roger. Bruce is now a doctor.

My Jr. year at Brown I lived off-campus on Brown Street with seven Seniors - which meant I celebrated graduation twice but, really, I was ready to be done with college after three years. In that mix, there is now an i banker, several doctors, a US Attorney, a law professor and Roger, a Senior Product Manager at Microsoft, God bless. We have all gone our ways and to imagine there we were, in one spot, listening to each other and what one day we might wish to do. Me, I was itching for Wall Street and New York which I felt the cat's meow. I was well prepped, too, having watched Oliver Stone's "Wall Street" and fired up be in Bud Fox's precarious position of making the call between right and wrong. Money or one's soul. I figured I would be Ok but Daryl Hannah was mighty fine+Bud had the penthouse. Well, instead of the floor trading secret information, I ended up at First Boston analysing cashflows and balance sheets. Nothing untoward there. In fact, in my years of finance, I have never seen anything close to impropriety - a consideration I have confirmed with my friend Joe, who has been a First Boston banker wanker since '85 and wrote my b school recommendations in '93.

But any ... ways .. Sonnet stands by the counter eating Saturday's left-over chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream. Eitan on the kitchen floor with feet elevated on a chair while ManU plays Bayer Munich in the Champions Leagues. Madeleine with us a moment ago holding her hamster Tommy like a pop cycle. I shock - shock!- the kids by giving them tomorrow off from school since A) we were up last night until Midnight for Passover; and B) tomorrow Natasha's last day. From then, Sonnet will be full-time mom for five months.

Eitan shows Sonnet how to make arm-farts with hand in arm-pit.

Sonnet: "You have a special talent, Eitan. It will help you a lot in life."

Eitan: "If I end up poor, I can do it on the streets and people can pay me money."

Sonnet: "Busking with arm farts by Eitan Orenstein."

Self Portrait XVI

Here is yours, truly, in 1983 at Dave's house after a Saturday over-night (I am pretty sure). Dave's English mum Judith (from Hamstead Garden Suburbs or "the posh" part of town) sends me this photo last month. How our past never escapes us. Back then, Dave and I the same stature -- 98 pound weaklings -- while an ongoing joke (to this day I emphasize) our height: he nips me with an afro but otherwise I top him. We both hid behind our yufful obsessions: swimming and saxophone, which enabled us to dexterously side-step those awkward teens. Chicken shits were we, but one adapts as one can [I own a strange memory of biking past the Ellis house every morning, 5:45AM, on my way to swimming practice at King Jr High pool - dark, cold, often raining and two hours and five miles of swimming ahead.] Today, Dave a buffed black dude with shaved head and somewhat menacing goatee. A bad ass. And serious, too - he continues to perform and enjoyed the #1 jazz album in the country in '06 with "State Of Mind." I still swim a few laps myself but not so much.

Three Graces

The Three Graces (here, butchered by my mobile phone) I see at Musee Conde at Chantillly. The painting by Raphael from the Italian High Renaissance and finished sometime around 1501. The image to personify grace and beauty while the figures attendants of several goddesses; in art, they are often the handmaids of Venus, sharing several of her attributes like the rose, myrtle, apple or dice. Their names (according to Hesiod in "Theogon," 905) are Algaia, Euphrosyne and Thalia. They are often grouped - as seen - with the two outer figures facing the spectator, and the one in the middle facing away.

Sunday Park

Sonnet off to South Kensington to meet Rana on her return from Copenhagen and before she flies to New York. Since finally we have some warm-ish weather, the Shakespeares and I head for Richmond Park (Madeleine armed w/ bread for the ducks). Eitan says smoking should be banned, which leads into a conversation about personal choice: should we stop at smoking? He ponders this and notes certain things - like smoking and fighting - should be stopped as "only stupid people do them." I ask how we decide who is stupid? Eitan: "if they smoke and fight" (I walk into this one). I introduce Marx and communism and Eitan listens politely before moving adroitly off the subject.

The kids discover someone's tree-fort:

Madeleine: "I wouldn't mind living here forever."

Eitan: "You might not mind, but times would be tough."

Madeleine: "Especially when it rains."

Me: "Go for it. I'll stop by tomorrow morning with some cereal."

Madeleine: "You're joking, Dad."

Me:

The White Lodge

The White Lodge, pictured, in Richmond Park not far from Sheen Gate and us (though I would never suggest, dear reader, these the neighbors). The house built for George II as a hunting lodge after he became King in 1727. Today, it is home to the Sadler's Wells Ballet School, who were given permanent use of the property in 1955 and soon later granted a Royal Charter becoming the Royal Ballet School - which is recognised as one of the leading ballet schools in the world.

Before. And After

On Thursday, Eitan announces he will cut his hair short. I find this hard to imagine and assume he will not follow up. But yesterday he brings it up again and, since the poor lad a bit glum, I ask him to sleep on it. Yet now arrives and his mind set: we head for the Turks and a date with clipper no. 6.

Kew Park Rangers celebrates its tenth anniversary last night with a fancy formal affair at the Richmond Hotel and fundraiser. By the time I organise a table for the Blues, the evening full-up so Sonnet and I host instead. More fun this way, I suggest. We have a group of eight which is fortunate since our dining room table holds .. eight. Sonnet decides upon a "Mad Men" theme and I serve martinis then steak and potatoes followed by a four-layer chocolate cake. I recount my grandparents all-night bridge sessions in Upper Arlington, Ohio, where my grandfather prepared pitchers of Manhattans and Martinis - so '50s cool. Sonnet hangs a photo of the boys. It is an interesting group, too - German, English, Italian and American and since we are middle-aged and this is England, we polish off six bottles of wine and a bottle of desert port. Our conversation rolls from football to secondary schools to America's foreign policy. Usual stuff at these sort of things. Tatiana once worked for the Treuhandanstalt privatising companies in East Germany after the fall of the Berlin Wall. She notes the honeymoon lasted three months, or from October to about Christmas. It was a bummer to learn East German companies horribly run and the rest a basket case requiring much more money and effort then imagined. But today, Tatiana and her husband Johannes (a diplomatic correspondent) seem happy with the outcome.

Eitan's KPR takes two from Manacroft United, who (before today) top of the Surrey Youth League's under-10s. The boys play inspired football and win 4-1 and 3-2, nearly securing their division's top-spot and a sure-promotion into Division 2 next season. My only upset in the second game when several KPR players, including Eitan, celebrate a goal with a choreographed dance - I tell Eitan afterwards that if I ever see it again I will take him off the pitch. I know how these boys feel when they cede a point and there is no reason to make the other side feel worse for it.