Rusty Leads

Rusty has a walk

Five years along and nothing learned. And then there is the dog.

Sonnet attends an informational evening to introduce the US college application process to (insane) British and ex-pat parents (mothers).  Sonnet notes that the SATs have been completely revamped and the advisers recommend taking the ACTs as well as the SATs to provide full coverage and reduce any uncertainty from the new SAT format. One can never be too careful about one's future.

I took the ACTs (then known as The Achievement Exams or simply "The Achievements") once, on a Saturday morning in 1984, next to Hinks department store in Berkeley. I chose three subjects, didn't prepare, and never looked back. The SATS another story - Stanley Kaplan, lost afternoons to horrible practise tapes - but even then the preparation barely minimal. Back then it was rare to get a perfect score; today it is de riguerir for the tutored classes.

And one pretty much does have to get a perfect SAT when Stanford accepts 5.1% and the Ivies are generally below 10%.

Canada has it about right: no entrance exam, no recommendations and it is cheaper. Canadians happy in college and thereafter.

Hockey Action

Maddy O chases the ball.

Emanuel's A team takes on Ibstock School at the Bank of England, going down 2-zero in a hard fought match that sees our gals out-gunned in the second half. Afterwards each side gives the other two 'hips' and a 'hooray!' followed by chocolate chip cookies.

Madeleine: "It felt so good to yell out there today."
Me: "At home you're 'Madeleine Orenstein', the nerd lost behind her books."
Madeleine:
Me: "But on the pitch it's "Maddy O", dragon of fire, fierce and determined athlete."
Madeleine: "Yeah."
Me: "You've developed a bit of a reputation, you know."
Madeleine:
Me: "Everybody knows your name."

Me And Eitan

Sonnet and I now frequently reflect on the reality that the Shakespeares will soon be gone. As every parent must agree, these little people who we have watched from the beginning become so interesting. And in a heartbeat our chapter will be over and their book will begin.

Barnes SC And DofE

Eitan prepares for the Duke of Edinburgh 

I have joined the Barnes Swim Club. Practises are in the evenings from 8-9:30PM so not practical but the weekends are 10:30AM for two hours. So, after 28 years, I complete my first workout of 4.5km. As I tell Jan, a New Zealander who trained for 18 months in Ft Lauderdale and now in London and cut like Adonis: "I preferred the old model" when it comes to me. I keep up with him using flippers. At this age, I could care less about etiquette.

Eitan comes in late Friday night and so unable to pack for his D of E overnight "survival" in Surrey. The temperatures around zero and sleeting and I have to force him to take my heavy winter jacket. In the car I ask if he's got his credit card? and he shrugs no way. Some things must be learned the hard way I suppose.

Madeleine: "Can I have some money for dinner?" [Dad's note: Madeleine has some friends over for dinner]
Me: "How much?"
Madeleine: "forty pounds."
Me: "What? When I was your age I never asked for $60 dollars for dinner."
Madeleine: "Yeah because that was like 50 years ago."
Me: "It's a fair point."
Madeleine: "It's my turn anyway. To pay for dinner."
Me: "What does Mom say?"
Madeleine: "40."
Me: "I'll transfer it now. Moe would never approve."
Madeleine:
Me: "Now is when I say 'money doesn't grow on trees.'"
Madeleine: "Whatever Dad. Can you just do it now?"

Lord Of The Flies

Eitan is Ralph

Eitan is "Ralph" in the school class play "Lord Of The Flies". It's a long showing, to, or about 45 minutes which means the small cast must know their lines. Cold. Eitan is admirable in the lead role, which he is somehow suited for.

From Cliff's Notes: Ralph. The elected leader of the boys and the main protagonist. He is neither the smartest nor the strongest but has a kind of quiet charisma and good looks. He tries to keep the boys focused on domestic order and the rules of civilization but loses his authority and almost his life to Jack's seizure of power.

The boy is happy when it is done.

Shake It Up

Katie celebrates with her friends Lisa Witter and Jacki Zehner, the CEO of Women Moving Millions, at the WMM gala last summer (WMM mission statement: "To catalyse unprecedented resources for the advancement of women and girls"). Peas in a pod.

Eitan: "I have an overnight. For the Duke of Edinburgh." [Dad's note: The Duke of Edinburgh's Award (known as DofE) is for those of 14 - 24 years and has three award levels: Bronze, Silver and Gold, based on volunteering, physical, skills and expedition. It is not milquetoast]

Madeleine: "You're camping?"

Eitan: "Yeah. We are testing our survival skills."

Me: "By 'survival' do you mean 'time between trips to McDonald's?'"

Sonnet: "Don't listen to your father."

Me: "Just make sure you take a credit card."

Eitan: "Why should I take a credit card."

Me: "Isn't this about survival?"

Eitan: "Yeah."

Me: "So take a credit card. Tesco is your oyster."

Eitan:

Me: "Well I'm glad that's sorted."

Godzilla Rises

Today is Super Tuesday in the US and we are all interested in Trump, whose fat face is about everywhere. The Republicans have created him, they deserve him, and God hope he does not become the next US president. Interestingly Bernie Sanders polls better against Trump than Clinton - not surprising, I suppose, given the shrinking Middle Class like a bunch of angry hornets. They are pissed off at the status quo, Washington and mainly the Republican party who has delivered them nothing. They don't want an insider like Hillary or Rubio who might actually be able to govern. No, they want blood.

Because of Trump, Senate seats that should not be contested are suddenly in play. The Senate not helping itself by failing to meet any proposed SCJ nomination by Obama to replace that fuck Scalia and his anti-gay, anti-choice, pro-gun, Citizens United court. 

The waters have been poisoned for many years and now Godzilla rises from the radioactive muck.

Surf's Up

So, in fact, Madeleine turned 14 earlier this month. Her birthday present a 7' surf-board, for which she campaigned following a family week spent in Marina Del Mar, Oceanside, California in December where the kid stood up. Pictured.

There is, I am aware, good surfing in England - mainly in Devon and Cornwall (about 5 hours drive from London) - but the water is typically below 60 degrees and requires a 4/3 density suit, booties, gloves and a hoodie to be tolerable. The water coldest in the first quarter but such things no deterrent for our surfer girl, who begs me to take her for a weekend or longer. It will come if only to ensure she uses here present once.

Madeleine via text about something: Thankyoooooooo❤️
Immediate follow up: Emoji unintended

Madeline text: Can you do me a favour? Because I don't know how the printer works can u print off 3 different versions of McBeth witches for me?

I send Madeleine a text photo of Vermeer's 'Girl With A Pearl Ear Ring."
Madeleine text response: That's a cool painting Dad.

English National Cross Country Championships

Eitan and I head north to Leicester for the English x-country nationals, the culmination of the season and a lot of hard work. We enjoy a pleasant enough ride along the M1, stopping for refreshments and to pick up the "Planet Of The Apes" cd which we listen to along the way. We chat about various things and he graciously accepts my views on training, racing etc. though he outgrew my advise some long time ago.

We stay at classy Best Western hotel with, weirdly, a Marco Pierre White restaurant which suggests strongly that the chef's franchise has fallen off the shelf. Anyways, it's Friday night, and the town is dressed up and ready to drink. Tomorrow the hotel hosts a "fancy wedd'n" (our receptionist gushes) "which is Medieval themed".

The boy and I turn out the lights early, then up at 7AM (me) and 9AM (Eitan) then to Donington Park where the 4.5km course is a circle loop around an ancient castle. Of note, there is a serious hill at the 2km mark. Paula Radcliffe has won the race a number of times as has Mo Farah. Good company.

The event is organised like a thumb over a smooth stone.  Eitan's U15s hosts 500+ boys who line up across a combed field. Bang, they're off, narrowing quickly to a single 'shoot', huffing and puffing and sprinting for position. Eitan is in the mix, up front.

Our hero runs a solid race, about 75th at the half and around the same at the end. He is pleased with his performance. We hit McDonald's on the drive home.

Purisma Creek

Roger and I hike the Purisma Creek Redwoods Reserve, on the western slopes of the Santa Cruz Mountains overlooking Half Moon Bay. The canyon offers towering redwoods, a rushing creek and understory of ferns, berries and wildflowers. Coastal scrub and hardwood forests of tanoak, madrone and Douglas fir border the cool, moist canyon. Since rain, damp and brooding.

BOX

The last we saw Roger, Box had gone public and now we see the fruits of the IPO: a shiny new building in Redwood City straight out of a Stanley Kubrick movie with automatic industrial lighting, painted walkways with coded numbers identifying offices and conference rooms and immaculate white work stations (desks which can be raised for standing).  Lunch and drinks still free. The self-serve snack-bar 24/7. Keg on every floor. Since an Internet company, there is a nap room. I want in.

Roger's team responsible for the partnership'n and revenue generat'n. His team multi-national which means Indian. I am certain they have a good time. Roger's style, afterall.

At the Hertz car rental at Oakland Airport. 

Agent: "What's your postal code. For the credit card."
I offer my postal cod.
Agent: "What kind of a postal code is that?"
Me: "It's in London."
Agent: "You live in London?"
Me: "Yes. Since 1997."
Agent: "Why'd you move to London?"
Me: "It's either a job or a girl."

Agent, pondering a moment: "Well, which one was it ?"

Me: "A girl."
Agent: "Damn straight." He offers his hand and we shake.

A Gathering

Sonnet and her cousins in Denver on the sad news of Bill Stanfill's passing. Missing from the photo is Derek.

Confederates

Confederate Flag, Confederate War Cemetery, Raleigh, NC

Two battles outside of Raleigh at the Civil War's end, Averasboro and Bentonville, flooded the capital with wounded to the point that private residents were taking in soldiers. The battle of Averasboro was meant to slow General Sherman and his fire-happy troops, who had just torched Georgia and made their way north through South Carolina uncontested.

500+ unknown tombstones.

Party Night

Meanwhile, back in London, Eitan invited to an evening affair, suit required. The Boy hits the High Street and finds himself a suit from a charity shop for £7.50.  With my tie, looking pretty good. Rusty agrees.

Now in Berkeley, I do a five mile out-and-back on Wild Cat Canyon Road at sunrise.

Cross Country

Ocean Pacific

My rest of week takes me on a tour of American cities and small airports : Columbus, Ohio (where I visit my mother's childhood house in Upper Arlington and charm the Ohio State gal who let's me swim at the athletic aquatic centre); Springfield, IL (home of Lincoln and a working town; my hotel - a Hilton - 30 stories, cities tallest by 25, with steak restaurant on floor 30), Austin, Texas, Phoenix AZ (I stay at the Frank Lloyd Wright designed Biltmore; 6AM sunrise jog followed by some some lap swimming) and San Diego, just in time for sunset - Pictured.

In La Jolla I try to find the cove for an ocean swim to a buoy and back - something I did in swimming camp, 1983 - but, alas, the the waves coming in at 7 or 8 feet.

Donal Trump and his mischief everywhere.

CAM

Sarah Cain: The Imaginary Architecture of Love

Sonnet and I visit the Raleigh Contemporary Art Museum, which has an exhibition on Joseph Mitchell and the Big Ears music festival in North Carolina. It doesn't really work, but I do buy a couple books by Mitchell.

"Joseph Mitchell was a devoted Brooks Brothers suit-and-fedora man. Between 1938 and 1965 he became one of the most influential writers in The New Yorker magazine’s history. Using fabled, lean prose, he chronicled the city’s fading neighborhoods, fish markets, overgrown cemeteries, and abandoned hotels, people and places bypassed by mainstream culture. In 1964, after the publication of his seminal work Joe Gould’s Secret, Mitchell stopped publishing. He reported to The New Yorker’s offices everyday without submitting another piece. Yet he kept wandering. Instead of chronicling voices, he collected abandoned objects—19th-century door knobs, scraps of housing trim, keys, and nails. In his small Manhattan apartment, he squirrelled away remnants from the world he’d written about, before it was gone."

Back home, an under-floor kitchen gas leak discovered by the engineers replacing the street's Victorian metal gas pipes with plastic. Lucky to find it. 

Brad

UNC campus

I spend a wonderful day with old London friend Brad Ives, who is Associate Vice Chairman for Campus Enterprise at the University of North Carolina. He basically oversees everything including the coal powered plant which supplies the UNC's gas power.  His budget: $175 million, with a team of 650 University employees and 450 contracted employees. He is also University’s Chief Sustainability Officer.

Prior, Brad was NC Assistant Secretary to Natural Resources responsible for the State Parks, Zoo, Aquariums, Museum of Natural Sciences & Marine Fisheries. He led passage of state law regulating siting of wind farms to address military flights and migratory bird patterns.

In short, Brad has changed his environment, he has had an impact. And pretty cool, too.

He shows the Triangle and we visit NC State, Duke and UNC. He exudes knowledge and pride, having grown up in a small town in North Carolina and attending UNC undergrad on a Moorhead Cain scholarship.

Modern Art

What the hell?

I like it!

Raleigh Museum

North Carolina Museum of the Arts

Catching up a bit here, I depart London last week on Thursday for Charlotte, SC, and a bunch of meetings followed by a flight to Raleigh where I meet .. Sonnet for the weekend.  We visit a bunch of museums, go for some walks through Raleigh, enjoy each others company. 

Climate Talks

I am in Paris this week and the security visible : Gendarmes on every corner with automatic machine guns, batons and body armour - and not only in the 8th, the wealthiest of arrondisments and where the Élysée Palace is located along with the French the government. The rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, le plus à la mode, has barely any pedestrians when I arrive in the morning time, though things more alive in the evening. The mood however is overall glum.

Yet cheered up by Barack Obama who is in Paris for the kick-off of the climate talks and the last chance to save the planet. We are off to an auspicious start as Obama's motorcade of 20 town-cars and SUVs rumble along the street outside Astorg's offices.

Me: "What do you think of global warming?"

Eitan: "Pretty terrible."

Me: "Do you know about the Paris climate conference?"

Eitan: "Uh, no. Why?"

Me: "Because it effects you. Do you think about it?"

Eitan: "Not really."

Me: "Fair enough. But it's coming."

"Don't sit back and wait for them to attack us."

--David Cameron presents his reason to bomb ISIS

A Final Thanksgiving

Madeleine post theatre. DDG

We celebrate Thanksgiving today, Sunday, with Halley, Willem, Ava and Zoe. Their family continues to achieve as Willem in his second year running Oxford's mindfulness centre while Ava now on the Arsenal U15s girls squad (training with the U17s) and Zoe has her interview at Oxford. I give her a mock interview and try to twist her knickers but she handles herself beautifully. Halley keeps it all moving forward with a steady hand.

Eitan stumbles in late to dinner having captained the Lions to victory over Dundonald Juniors FC 6-nil. Saturday it was Hampton defeating the Harrodian School 5-nil.

Urban Kids

Clapham Junction

There is no doubt that Eitan and Madeleine are city kids. It is difficult to appreciate how different this is from the California I grew up in and they know from holiday visits to Berkeley or the mountains. My experiences as a youngster - swimming, walking to Telegraph Ave to buy comics, Cal football, hot tubs - may be completely irrelevant to what they experience now. 

But somehow I doubt it.

Madeleine's Theatre

Thanksgiving II

From Richmond Park and Eitan's race, I dash to the Battersea Arts Centre to see Madeleine's theatre production "Cloud9". Eitan joins me against his will but soon warms to the inevitability of his circumstances.

Cloud9 described in the program as "exploring the themes of escapism and loneliness in our increasingly cyber world. How does the internet work? What does it mean to be forever connected? Has loneliness become taboo? These are some of the questions we want to ask."

Madeleine is surrounded by, truly, the coolest troupe one could imagine. In school, I can imagine them as the eccentrics or odd balls but, on stage, they are natural, connected, powerful. Madeleine has been working her tail off, too, practising with the crew all week until 9PM, arriving home and crashing to bed.

Madeleine's  two minute monologue, "The Magnet", steels the show in this writer's opinion. She delivers without a hiccup, cool as a cucumber. I have not seen nor heard a rehearsal at home. I am further amazed to learn she wrote the script.

Throughout, Madeleine does an admirable job avoiding eye contact with me, Eitan and Veronica (our wonderful Czech au pair) and only at the end does she give me a direct smile. She is proud of herself, and I could not be more proud of her.

Sonnet, who arrives from Brighton where she delivers a lecture on "Fashion and Design", joins us for dinner at Valentina, a family favourite in East Sheen.

Thanksgiving

Richmond borough cross country championships

On an ordinary day, Friday, I have one of the bast days of my life.

I head to the office for a number of calls, per usual, and manage to do a run along the Thames at lunchtime (per usual). Eitan is competing the Borough Champs, which I have attended six years running, and I must dash to Richmond Park to catch him at the start-line of the 3k course.

With little ceremony, bang, the boys are off. Eitan passes the half-way mark with pain on his face, eyes blinded, and the look of a wild animal being chased for dear life. He is in the lead pack but just barely, and I think: "one of those days." But then on the second loop to the finish line there he is, relaxed and in control. His stride changed and body powerful, moving in rhythm.

Eitan has a masterful race finishing 2nd and qualifying for the Middlesex Championships. He is so pleased with his performance, and I watch as his friends hug him in congratulations. All smiles. He even lets me in his space and seeks my approval, which I give with a nod and private thumbs up. Eitan let's me take a few pictures without the usual embarrassment and resistance. Then we drive home together discussing the race details, strategy, tactics, etc. That's my kid.

Eitan and Zac, who is the No. 2 triathlete in Britain for his age group and a friend and healthy rival at the Hampton School

Rep Night

Super Mom

Sonnet takes her Hampton School "class rep" role seriously (sort of) and organises a holiday drinks at a local pub that is inconveniently hosting a "quiz night" meaning it is unusually crowded and most tables reserved. Oh, well. And traffic murder given a 150 yr old Edwardian house in Barnes collapses as the owner builds a basement, closing a main road and causing commuter havoc (the house BTW valued at £3.8m and its hard to feel sorry for the poor bastard who has disrupted our neighbourhood for his vanity project).

But I digress.  We catch up on all the local gossips from Hampton School (a rare thing since Eitan shares a few grunts when queried). On campus, the boys rebelling against a school mandate for iPads, now required from January 1, despite the majority of Eitan's year not wishing them. Eitan is pretty fired up by the cause and has talked to the head teacher and, with other boys, organised a petition against the distracting and costly devices. The boys also irked that the decision taken without their consultation. Good for them.

Meanwhile, France declares war on ISIS, supported by the British, and the bombing begins. Only too soon will this battle arrive on our doorstep. It is already here.

The Vaccines

And like that it is Saturday morning, late November, post Thanksgiving (which we will celebrate tomorrow with Halley, Willem, Zoe and Ava - who is in London today playing for Arsenal when not on the England squad. More on that later).

This past week sees yours, truly, in London sans travel reminding me of the importance of routine and just being around for the family.

Sonnet and I take advantage by going to a double header of the Palma Violets and the Vaccines at Brixton Academy on Monday with Oliver and Carol, dressed in flare bottom jeans and leather boots. The concert rocks and, dear reader, I admit to ear-plugs BUT the all embracing sensations are hardly diminished. Thank you Christian for the tickets and our shared joy of (British) music. Of course he has met both bands in LA.

Lizzy's Party

The girls arrive for Lizzy's surprise party and Sonnet and I listen to the staccato as 12 girls anticipate the moment (Eitan rolls his eyes, contemplates the pizza, then disappears to the den - not worth it). I ring the front bell a few times, which offers some amusement.

The surprise goes off like a charm and the sugar-fuelled adrenaline reaches a crescendo with Lizzy's arrival - shock, screeches, joy - and the girls hug and cry and talk at each other and, well, bond with their tribe. Lizzy melts right in.

I have my moment as Madeleine asks me to play some music in the living room over Sonos, which I control from my notebook in the kitchen. After a few requests - she wants Justin Bieber (apparently cool again) and a bunch of pop bands I've never heard of - I crank Devo's 'Crack That Whip",  The Time's "Gigolos Get Lonely Too", and Prince's "Little Red Corvette" before I am yanked from my responsibilities.

Mall Rat

Madeleine and I head to Westfield Mall in Shepherds Bush, London, which is also the largest mall in Europe - 30 football pitches of commercial space for 400 shops and restaurants. Our gal needs a winter jacket and it is nearly Thanksgiving. Only North Face will do.

We go early, to avoid the crowds, arriving at 10AM only to find the stores open at noon on Sunday. Still, there are people walking around like zombies. What do they do otherwise ?

Finally, we find a suitable jacket in Kingston, on the other side of Richmond Park. Not wasted time, dear reader : it is a morning spent with my dear heart following a week in Amsterdam for a conference (where I am on a panel title: "Differentiation". Thrills). She always has interesting things on her mind, and today it is vampires since she reads "I Am Legend" by Richard Matheson.

Mr Saxophone

Mr Dave Ellis on the tenor saxophone, playing his sweet music. This a rough year as his mother Judith passed away in the early autumn.  Judith was a beacon and rock, and beloved member of the family and a longtime friend from the 7th grade.

Dave is one of the people who makes Berkeley real.

Knock-Out Round

Thursday Sonnet drives two hours to Essex to watch Hampton play Brentwood in the 3rd round of the ISFA Cup, coveted by the team having won the Surreys two seasons ago and Final Four in the English Schools Football Associations cup. The game is nil-nil at the end of regulation time and over-time leading to the dreaded PKs.

Hampton goes up first when Brentwood suffers nerves but in a twist of fate, the brilliant Louie who clinched the Surrey Cup, misses, and it's lights out for the season. Sonnet drives a dispirited bunch home. They sleep, Luke snores.

From there Sonnet and I meet Dale for dinner at Tom's Kitchen, made famous by the "reality" show "Made In Chelsea", which earns the kids' respect. Dale, now in Austin, Texas, has never heard of it. Go, figure.

Winter Day

Sonnet meets Karen and Stephanie for a loop of Richmond Park or about 7.5 miles. This morning it is -2 degrees, a real jolt from the unusually warm autumn and early winter so far.  It snowed in London yesterday en route to Eitan's football match.

Any how, Rusty is up for any distance, any time of day, any weather condition. I swear the dog has not mellowed at all in 6 years.

Cal loses to Stanford in the Big Game. Since played at 3:30AM GMT, I am unable to listen to Joe Starkey make the play-by-play. Once, before Disney and ESPN and all the corporates took over college football, games were played Saturday, 12:30PM local, which worked well for London. Now broadcasts are timed to reach the widest audience. Think the players' exam schedule consulted ?

On Spanish

Waitrose check out

This photo for reminds me of the little girl we left behind, replaced by a self-assured, engaging teenager.

Madeleine hosts a surprise birthday party for Izzy. Here we are, Friday evening, picking up the goods. Izzy decided not to have a party two weeks ago, on her birthday, as another friend celebrating her birthday the same day with 50 kids. Madeleine is just good like this.

Sunday morning, I wake Madeleine: "Do you want huevos rancheros for breakfast?"
Madeleine: "Huh?"
Me: "Huevos rancheros."
Madeleine: "What do you mean?"
Me: "For breakfast."
Madeleine: "Yeah, but what language were you just speaking in?"

Black

The world mourns the innocent souls who have lost their lives in Paris. Everyone I know effected.

Darkness

"This is an attack not just on Paris. It is an attack not just on the people of France. But this is an attack on all of humanity and the universal values we share."

--President Hollande

Making Out

Will, formerly known as "Willouby"

I come home Sunday afternoon, no Sonnet, to a quiet house knowing that Madeleine and Will (formerly known as Willouby) are hanging out in the house. I am momentarily cautioned that they are likely upstairs, in the bedroom, door closed. Caught off guard for some kind of strategy for the situation, Madeleine comes down the stairs in Eitan's monkey suit. Will follows with his skateboard slung over a shoulder. A reprieve. But for how long ?

Me: "And you were embarrassed by my cow suit."

Mento Bomb

A Date With My Gal

Madeleine and I spend Friday night watching tele and eating pizza. Tonight it is sushi at one of my favourites in W1.

Black cab drivers are generally friendly and professional. Every now and then you get the odd racist but usually they are a source of information - Like how London once got 4-5 feet of winter snow 35 years ago. Or the next up-and-coming neighbourhoods and where to get a salt beef sandwich at 3AM. So I'm caught off guard when my driver enters a rant against Muslims.  Turns out the guy once worked for Microsoft and I knew I should have taken a different cab when he begins, "I told everybody Windows 95 wasn't ready." 

I endure the assault mostly in silence. When not driving a taxi, my guy raises pure-bred poodles. It all makes sense. Or none of it does.

On The Road Again

After a bunch of meetings in Boston, Harrisburg, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Arlington, Horsham and King Of Prussia (yes, a city in Pennsylvania) I now sit peacefully in the American Airlines ambassador lounge awaiting my flight to CDG. I return to London tomorrow evening. We are now at €1.1bn on the Astorg fundraising.

Sonnet will take Eitan to the Olympic Development Camp in Germany for the weekend and Madeleine and I have a weekend to ourselves, already interrupted as she has her theatre/ drama class all-day Saturday and wants to be with her friends Sunday. I have made a reservation at my favourite sushi restaurant Saturday evening which should hold some sway.

Beautiful Common

For November, it is remarkably hot on the Eastern Seaboard - Today, temps reach mid 60s. It feels early spring instead of late autumn.

Quel Scandale

Eric and I connect for a morning stroll across the Boston common and breakfast at a diner at the base of Beacon Hill. I am sad to see him leave, as I prepare for a day of meetings and another one on the road.

In London, a minor scandale erupts when the Guardian reports : "V&A rejects offer to showcase Margaret Thatcher's clothing," which is picked up by the BBC and the Telegraph and everyone else on Fleet Street. Tory MPs take up the cause and roundly criticises the museum - this is is the government responsible for tackling ISIS and terrorism - while the business secretary Sajid Javid goes to twitter: "I for one would have loved to see it! " On offer: 1980s power suits your grandmother would wear.

Back To School

Near Imber Court football pitches

And with a groan, Eitan and Madeleine return to school after a two-week half-term break.

The Shakespeares go from sleeping until 10AM (Madeleine) and 11AM+ (Eitan) to 6:25AM (Madeleine) and 7:05AM (Eitan).

It is evident to anybody with teenagers that teens are wired to retire late and sleep late. Why schools don't accommodate their brain schedules a mystery - learning would improve, exam results would improve. Moral and spirit would improve. Everybody benefits. Mornings are just brutal on these kids.

Marc Eitan Reunion

Marc, Eitan's Elm Grove coach, shows up to watch Eitan and Alphie play in today's match. Marc has been a truly wonderful influence on Eitan and I only wish he could be more in his life.

Marc comments on Eitan: "He showed up at every practise ready to learn. He was a joy to coach."

Game Day Fog

Lions vs. Met Police 

The Sheen Lions play the Met Police U15s in a league game that our side wins in 3-2 but not without drama. The Lions up 2-0 at half then cede two goals and the momentum. Eitan sparks up and urges his team mates to dig deep and Joe delivers the winner: a beautiful 20 yard strike taken after he jukes the defender who thinks Joe is going for the easy angle. The boys' spirits soar. Eitan has stomach cramps following the match - something that now happens regularly after hard-fought games. Not surprising given an hour and twenty at 100%.

Eitan's Elm Grove teammate Alphie now plays for the Met Police. Alphie does a cracking job saving at least two goals that should have found net. I catch up with Alphie's Dad, Phil. Just as crazy as ever.

Post action