Battersea Park

Battersea is a wonderful park on the southside of the Thames, across from Chelsea - I have taken a similar picture before. It is not the biggest park (that goes to Richmond) but there are lots of practical things like grass tennis courts and a quarter mile track. There is an efficient zoo and plenty of green lawn for sitting (all of this behind the photo). Yes, dad is on patrol. We are in this neighborhood to explore the kennel since Madeleine researching a dog (I used to tell her she could have one when she a teen-ager but have since relented to our next house). She has proven her aptitude with two gold-fish who remain with us after six months and takes her responsibility seriously doing Google searches on various breeds and marking her notebook - some dogs, like the border collie, which receives a 'star.' Unfortunately the dog pound closed - tears, oh sweet tears - so we end up having a "treat" and, as luck would have it, the dog-walkers out in full-force, slurping coffee and chatting about their 20 or so well groomed breeds. Edwin joins us and I tell him: "it feels like Northern California. Accept for the Battersea Power Station". Here we are, surrounded by manicured lawns, flower beds and ancient oaks with only the tip of a massive water structure visible above the treeline. How strange this, in the midst of the most urban place in the world.

Eitan's pals Luke (who I call "Lukazaid" following our five-mile "fun run") and Freddy come over for a play-date, which means lots of screaming and howling (me to Freddy: "do you act like an animal when your friends come over?" He smirks). We have lunch and, to get the kids from playing football inside, I set up brushes and water-colors and order them to "paint me a story." They are now outside with Madeleine who uses her skate-board to glean attention. Smart girl, I like. We go to the park for some frisbee and football; the boys beg to climb trees in the shrubs (my only rule: as long as I can see you little rats). Eitan and Madeleine fight. For real. Luke falls from a tree. The nannies look at me with some suspicion as I wrestle a bit too enthusiasticly. Madeleine: I am bored. Can't we do something fun for kids? Me to her: You're a kid, tell me what you want to do? She rolls her eyes. The boys now kick the football against the living room wall ("come on, we do it all the time." I bet). There is a good reason I go to work - to r-e-l-a-x.

"Ippa Dippa Dation, My operation
how many people at the station?
one, two three, four, five, five, six, seven, eight!"
--Eitan (who lands on 'eight' wins. Of course.)

Me to Freddy: "Does your dad sing?
Freddy: "No"
Me: "Really, never?"
Freddy: "Well, only when he wants to embarrass me.
Me (directed to Eitan): Oh, really?"
Freddy: "Yes, he sings the 'chicken poo-poo song.'"

Eitan: "Oh, Dad, you always make play dates boring (he checks the table as to who is bored). I am going to go to bed." (puts head in hands)

Madeleine: "Can I have something to eat?"
Me: "Sure, why don't pour yourself two spoonfuls of sugar .. ."
Freddy, Luke, Eitan: "Yes! Yes! Yes !!"

Skate Board

Madeleine's skate board arrives - "no fear" it says - and Eitan, who initially poo-poo'd the idea gets involved and there is nearly bloodshed. Madeleine has worked hard for her prize - word spelling every morning for the past two months. Our block offers a limited grade so tomorrow it is Richmond Park, since I am solo with the Shakespeares. Around the same age I had a "banana board" made of cheap see-through plastic. It was pretty bunk and I never got beyond the 20 foot walkway in the backyard. Go-carts more interesting anyway. So, now as a parent I am trying to let go and not worry about the wheels. Nor am I concerned with the statistics: in the US, the Academy of Pediatrics reports, 50,000 emergency department visits and 1,500 hospitalizations among children and adolescents are skateboard related. Yeah, I am not worried. Eitan took a few knocks getting on two wheels and Madeleine battered and bruised herself from the roller blades so why not another injury contraption? This all part of being a kid; all part of the growing up.

Modern Life

To make a guess, this building from the 1960s when London yet recovering from World War II and in desperate need for commercial and residential property - pictured, Thames southside. A lot of concrete pored that decade including the BT Tower (1962, at 34 floors London's tallest from the '60s), Centre Point ('67, 35 floors, and the only sky-scraper in the West End - an abomination), Aviva Tower ('69, 28 floors), Millbank ('63, 33 floors and home of the Torry party) and of course many, many horrible cement blocks that crept up before zoning permissions in the 70s aimed to preserve our skyline. Much of the junk being torn down and rebuilt given the value of the underlying property. Buildings are, after all, a machanism to print money and the nicer the property ... so London continues to expand, including six of the city's ten largest to be completed by 2012 just in time for les jeux olympics. Of these, Renzo Piano's 'Shard of Glass" at Tower Bridge will be the European Union's tallest at 72 floors (Europe's highest will be the Russian Tower in Moscow at 1,980 feet. Let's see what oil does first). Before, the tallest-highest structure the Warsaw Radio Mast at 2,121 feet, built in 1974 but it collapsed on August 8, 1991 - technically this not a building, ok? but still that must have been a bummer. The Barbican Centre, which looks like something from the '60s, opened in 1982. J.G. Ballard would be way proud.

“I would sum up my fear about the future in one word: boring. And that's my one fear: that everything has happened; nothing exciting or new or interesting is ever going to happen again... the future is just going to be a vast, conforming suburb of the soul.”
--J.G. Ballard

"The bottom line is that complacency is a real killer for private equity firms."
--Hugh Langmuir, newly appointed Cinven Chief Exec. Cinven formerly one of Europe's top, large-cap or "mega" LBO firms.

St P and Kraut

It is quite remarkable that the Wren Cathedrall survived the war. If ever the Germans wanted to demoralise the Brits during the World War, the destruction of St Pauls would have gone a long way. And indeed, damage was inflicted - in some instances severe requiring an ongoing rebuild through 1962 - but the dome, or I should say the layers of domes, remain in tact despite the Luftwaffe's best efforts (as an aside, I worked with a German kraut Michael Handrick whose father bombed the tar out of London during the war. Afterwards, Michael sent to England for his education and a better life and when I worked for him at investment firm Botts & Co. he always found it entertaining to discuss his father's raids). Like the the Empire State Building, Great Wall of China or Eiffel Tower, St Paul's has a life which changes throughout the year and, indeed, the day depending on the sun's rays. Similar to the Golden Gate Bridge, the water offers a sense of majesty and adds to the thing's personality. In my picture, for instance, the tide half-way and the flow, that is, the draining direction, Eastwards. Fewer cranes distort the skyline given today's recession.

Despite government's Knives Actions programme from last year, "sharp instrument homicides" in the high-crime areas - London, Essex, Lancashire, West Yorkshire, Merseyside, West Midlands, Greater Manchester, Nottinghamshire, South Wales and Thames Valley - have increased to126 for the year ending March, 2009, up from 119 in 2008. The majority of these crimes committed by under-24s, where there has otherwise been a drop in Britain's violent crime overall (the Met). What the figures do not show is the horrific nature of these crimes. Sonnet's recent Old Bailey, where she and her fellow jurors put two Sci Lankens away for life (good riddance) saw a gang-related decapitation using a Shogun sword. neighbors witnessed the homicide, meant to serve as a warning to the street. No doubt, it served a purpose. I fail to understand why we do not eliminate pointy ends, which are rarely needed for kitchen work or otherwise. Blunting the means may not lead to an end but it could save a few lives.

Kraut btw was a common GI term for the German soldier and from the abbreviation of sauerkraut, the sour cabbage, a common food of the Germans.

"Ich möchte Stechschritt und essen saurkraut"
--Germany

Holiday

Here's a rather intense shot of Marcus from his visit several months ago. Picture on nearby Sheen common.

A key perk of l'Europe are the vacation days, which leave Americans incredulous. Here's why (WTO):

Italy	42 days
France	37 days
Germany	35 days
Brazil	34 days
United Kingdom	28 days
Canada	26 days
Korea	25 days
Japan	25 days
U.S.	13 days

And in the UK, some jobs better than others:
NHS - 35 days+ten days of study leave
GPs - four to six weeks
Academia - 33-35 days+days with uni closed
Armed Forces: 30 days
Charity Workers: six weeks
McDonald's: 28 days
Nurses: minimum four weeks, increasing with seniority
Bankers: six weeks
Government: 30 days
Retail: 21 days
Chefs: four weeks
Farmworkers: 31 days
Hairdressers: 28 days
Accountants: 25
(The Times)

And private equity fundraisers, you ask? About 45 weeks.

Undercover

Well, it is not every day I can put a lovely bottom on my family blog but in the name of fashion, here goes. London's Fashion & Textile Museum's latest exhibition (on until 27 September) is "Undercover: The Evolution of Underwear." The program notes: "The exhibition presents a visual demonstration of how female underwear has evolved as women's role in society changed and encompasses the changing trends from the 'flatten it' to the 'push it up' to the 'let it all hang out.' Containing some of the most exquisite pieces from a wide range of private and public collections that read like the Who's Who of underwear: M&S, Triumph, La Perla, Christian Dior, Elle Macpherson, Myla and Wonderbra to name just a few." We hope they have been laundered though perhaps some of us may hope not. The program continues: "From the risque to the radical, pieces include an original Merry Widow corset inspired by Lana Turner in the film of the same name; reknowned burlesque artiste Immodesty Blaize's corset; a spectacular gown made from bras and briefs by designers Vin & Omi and a La Perla bra encrusted with Swarovski crystals." No doubt, this one worth the Curator's Gallery Talk and it is nice to be married to the Curator of Fashion, though at the V&A. I am sure Sonnet rolls her eyes as she reads this but hey - the best fashion should raise one's heart-beat, like this exhibition. We're not dead yet, afterall.

Eitan catches me off guard: "Tell me two facts you know about horses."
Me:
Eitan: "Horses are as old as the teeth they have so if a horse has eight teeth, he is eight years old."
Madeleine: "Can we get one dad? For the backyard?"
Me:
Eitan: "Horses use more energy lying down then standing up."

Madeleine investigates dogs on Google: "Oh, that one is really gross. Eitan, look, this dog looks like it is wearing a shirt over its head but it is really skin!"
Madeleine: "This is a big star for that dog" which she scribbles on her "dog fact" page (a New Zealand Huniaway, BTW)

I correct Madeleine's Kumon in front of her: "Do you really have to do that, dad?"

Sporty

This an enthralling week end for sports with the Open Championships, Tour de France and the Ashes, where England lead - lead! - Australia, who is down and out at 128 for five chasing a record-setting 522, now needing only another 209 runs to deny England her first Ashes victory at Lord's for over 75 years and strike a psychological blow so huge that Andrew Strauss's team would unlikely recover. Ever. But the real blow came when 59-year old Tom Watson failed to par on the 18th hole and so completing arguably the greatest victory achievement in sporting history. Ever ever. As far as my simple research shows, nobody has ever won a global sporting contest over age 50 - George Forman was 45 when he took the heavy weight belt in '94; Bobby Allison won the Indianapolis 500 at 49 in '87; Dara Torres 40 when she won her 15th national swimming title and set an American record in the 50-meter freestyle in 2007. Antoini Cichonczuk, 58 and from Poland, ran a 2:45 marathon to win the 2008 Malmo Marathon but whose ever heard of that? (pssst Sweden) Instead, Watson missed a 5-foot putt which he can do with his eyes closed (like MJ taking free-throws). The Open went into a four-hole tie-breaker with fellow American Stewart Cink, and Watson lost by six strokes. Tough break for him and all of us watching. And finally there is Lance, who is second to Alberto Contador in the Alpine stages, now heading into the final week of Le Tour. Armstrong is 38 to his rival's 26. The thing is, every summer there are one or two days when the entire country focused on their team or an athlete. Usually it is England football but other sports too - like athletics or golf. It unifies the nation somehow. The only time I have felt similar in the US was the '80 Olympics ice hockey where an amateur American team defeated the professional Russians during the Cold War. Now that was drama. So all of us arm-chair, beer drinking officiados read the Daily Mail or Sun with an extra close eye towards our neighbor's opinion. For today, sport trumps the weather as the national neutral awkward-silence-breaking conversation set piece. Amen, brother.

“A lot of guys who have never choked have never been in the position to do so.”
--Tom Watson (I love this quote)

Edwin

Edwin, pictured, and I rendez-vous at Richmond to drive to the Wycombe Half Marathon and my first race since the London Marathon. The sky overcast and drizzly but the mood positive, if not festive - the men shout cheerfully awaiting the crapper which I avoid like the plague. Runners are a weird lot. None particularly attractive despite the billions of calories they burn for the sport. For some reason they come across as a bit dowdy. Or nerdy, like the engineers I remember from Brown. I suppose spending one's morning suffering through 13.2 miles eccentric and so attracts a certain type of dedicated heroism. Take Edwin. We met ten years ago and within days pounding away at each other at the Watson International Half Marathon. Of course we pumped each other up by down-playing our readiness and training which, we said, was woefully inadequate. I do recall we finished the course in 1:24 and neck-and-neck the whole way. I thought I was going to die the last several miles and sweet Jesus what a relief when it was over. So this is how great friendships are born and Edwin has been just that - from training runs to today, he has generally kept me on my toes and well informed about the latest best gear or running "niggles" which torment us both. He is also pretty God damn smart. Once, several years ago, we spent five-miles discussing Joseph Heller and "Catch-22" and I was tartly offended by his affrontal towards my views and suggested so. Well, it turns out that Heller was Edwin's tutor at Oxford. Doh! So today I run 1:35 without really pushing myself yet disappointed in the pace. Breaking three-hours in Berlin is going to be tough. Edwin knocks out a 1:24, no problemo.

"In a country where only men are encouraged, one must be one's own inspiration."
-- Tegla Loroupe, Kenya, 1994 New York City Marathon champion

Squash

I have several older friends who swear by squash. I can appreciate their enthusiasm given the mental stimulation behind the game's physical requirements. A smaller court and slower moving, less elastic ball mean positioning and shot-taking held to a premium. This compares to racket ball, which I once loved and played with Moe at the Bay Club or with friends at Harmon Gym, where one's ability to wack the shit outta the rubber decisive. I think about this as I need a sport for my middle age. While I love running, the injuries and frustration ad up and the training required to remain fit prohibitive. So I will do the Berlin Marathon in September, enshallah, and then - what? I am investigating masters swimming and unlike twenty years ago there a plenty of options but I am also open to racket sports. They being more enjoyable then staring down at the lane-line. Been there, oh boy. The main object of any sport post 40 I might suggest is health and grace. Having a goal of some sort increases life's enjoyment - such an obvious statement that I think twice about putting it here. Yet most of our friends in London fail take up even the most basic form of exercise and looked shocked, shocked! when I describe my preparation for Berlin. This may be an extreme but there has to be a middle ground other than the couch and TV. My shot from one of the many courts at St Pauls.

Eitan: "spell I-CUP"
Me: "I, C, U, P"
Eitan: "Ha ha - you see me peeing!"

Eitan to Aggie: "what is that willifor on your head?
Aggie: "What is a williefor?"
Eitan: "Ha ha - you don't know what a willie is for?"

Sonnet: "Eitan. You. Stop. It. Right. Now."

Currency

It's hard to decide where the dollar will be relative to the pound. This meaningful to me as I hold Euros, Stirling and bucks, which I convert from time to time here. My thinking has been something like this: the US government has borrowed its way to 13-14% of GDP, which is as high as it has ever been since the last World War. There is a lot of money that has been, and to be created by the Fed to honor its obligations - surely government's target is inflation, which takes care of a few problems like house prices and foreign debt. The Europeans watch aghast, by the way, having seen inflation's destruction. The increased money supply will weaken the green-back against foreign currencies but it is all relative, as Einstein notes, and some countries create more money then others. Britain, for instance. My Oxford genius friend Edwin points out that Britain has done a fabulous job creating jobs where none needed - establishing a rather inefficient workforce dependent on the public sector (Sonnet's V&A most assuredly a well run entity, dear reader). Britain's main economic drivers - North Sea oil and the City - have dried up. Our unfunded pensions massive against this size of the economy, which is about £2.1 trillion yet contracting 4.5% this year, according to PWC. According to Edwin, we simply don't have the industrial scale or diversification to claw our way out of Super Gee's deficit spending and so .. Stirling will take it on the chin. Property values are also questionable - I think they will continue to decline here for another three or four years after the economy recovers. The delay due to Britain's 2.4 million unemployed (and rising) who must be redeployed and accrue savings before they can buy .. this what happened in the last real recession of 1989-92: US and British housing prices reached their nadir in 1995 while Los Angeles in 1996. Still, real estate a scarce commodity and London ever popular. Edwin notes that a lot of money made in bad places ends up here legally or otherwise: "it is always London" he says. Long term this is good for us Londoners, ROW be damned.

Common Rain

Yes, rain on the common. I suppose we need the water as things parched BUT recalling the last two Augusts we don't need too much water, Dear God. With climate change, the top of the summer has also become the wettest though fortunately for us, we are usually out of the country for most of July and August. Not this year, so fingers crossed. But the Brits love their weather, don't they, and what's a little rain among friends? As I always say with a knowing wink: "we chose to live here."

Meanwhile Sonnet gives Oriel a hand at today's Fashion In Motion, which show-cases Giles Deacon. Deacon a British fashion designer from Cumbria who studied at the prestigious Central St Martins College of Art with designers Alexander McQueen (Givenchy) and Luella Barley (Luella) and his girlfriend Katie Grand, an influential stylist. After uni, Deacon worked for Jean-Charles de Castelbajac, Bottega Veneta, Gucci and Louis Vuitton before starting his own label, Giles, in 2003. He was named British Fashion Designer of the year in '06 at the British Fashion Awards (former recipients are John Galliano and Vivienne Westwood). Deacon has made some serious money working for high street store New Look with model-of-the-moment Agyness Deyn and Drew Barrymore advertising his trendy girls range. In '08, he did menswear, but I find it a bit too gay even for my tastes, a self-proclaimed metro-sexual. Sonnet says the four shows packed and while these things always an ordeal to arrange, they net great publicity for her fashion department and the museum. Nice to recall that Fashion In Motion began some six years ago as a simple stroll through the statue gallery by well oiled girls showing off Stella.

Eitan on the summer holiday: "Oh, God, it is going to be so boring."

Bugs And Teens

Here we are at school. Yesterday Madeleine and Billy join up post Kumon at Palewell Park to hunt bugs. Sonnet brings a picnic blanket and food for a lazy afternoon. I use some time to run laps around the common at a hard clip; a gaggle of teen-agers loaf while listening to Michael Jackson; they watch me suspiciously. On my last loop, one has the temerity to remark: "you go, dad." What's more interesting to me is the body language of the group - girls under dressed despite school clothes; boys dorky and awkward. Lots of posturing. I can see this a mile away. Kids same everywhere. Meanwhile, back on the picnic blanket, the insect enthusiasts make a little bug home inside a match box complete with leaves and grass for their captured lady birds. They cup inside their bowled hands creepy crawlers that make Sonnet a tad uncomfortable ("put those down now!"); Madeleine concentrates on an ant: "Don't crush it, Dad! He's a living thing too!"

Eitan: "what other choices did you have for my name when you named me?"
Me: "Oscar, Jake, Michael, Pickles, Potato head."
Eitan: "I do not believe the last one!"
Madeleine: "How about me?"
Me: "Gooseberry"
Madeleine: "Dad! That is not funny! Just be serious!"
Me: "Gooseberry Orenstein - it really has a ring to it, don't you think?"
Madeleine: "I am most definitely never talking to you again."

Madeleine: "Can we go to France, please please please?"
Me: "Let me think about it."
Madeleine: "Pleeaaaase"
Me: "You can let me think about it or the answer is no."
Madeleine: "Ok (pause) but if we do go when would it be?"

School's Out

Today, Friday, is the last day of the school year and just like that I own a fourth and a third grader. More shockingly, Eitan and Madeleine are half way done with primary school - how did that happen? The last few nights there have been drinks parties for the classes and a going away drinks for head-teacher Ms. England, who leaves us for a year to pursue an administrative role higher up the educational food-chain. She is good, and I do hope we have her back. The kids know their fall-term teachers, who seem good though Madeleine's all of 22. This does not make me too happy since Madeleine has had three teachers this year following Ms X's maternity-leave from December. But all that is for later and today the campus buzzy as the kids stream out from their class rooms hooting and hollering at their good luck: vacation! Some go to Ireland, others Moldavia or Australia; France and Portugal also popular and of course the US. We will sit tight this summer conserving pennies and, we hope, moving into a new house. Plus we saw family for Diane's wedding. From the pick-up we head to the Sheen Common for the traditional last-day picnic and once the lawns filled with mums and blankets, food and wine it .. rains. Been here before, oh boy, and the kids don't mind - I have to grab the rats by the ear to drag them from their friends. Now they sit in front of the boob-tube watching Harry P before swim practice in a couple hours. Ah, Friday.

European Parliament

In Brussels I have a free moment so I visit the European Union - my picture of the Espace Leopold complex which is one of two EU meeting places (the other in Strasbourg, France which owns twelve-four day plenary sessions a year). Leopold serves for committee meetings, political groups and complementary plenary sessions. Having two spots seems silly when one considers A) the cost of relocating staff offices for each session; and B) I pay for it. But this a small grumble against the grand representation of our European ideals, which are founded on four treaties of necessity and brotherhood: European Coal and Steel (1952); European Economic Community (1957); European Atomic Energy; and the European Union (1992 and ongoing). The EU's success owes a lot to the unusual way it works - unusual because the countries that make up the EU ('member states') remain independent sovereign nations but pool their sovereignty in order to gain a strength and world influence none of them could have on their own. This stops short of being a federation, like the US, but is much more than an organisation for cooperation between governments, like the United Nations. This means, in practice, that the member states delegate some of their decision0making powers to shared institutions they have created, so that decisions on specific matters of joint interest can be made democratically at European level. I won't go into the requirements of being in the club, but generally members must adhere to strict economic ratios which allow the common currency and subscribe to a set of values, watered down so everybody can participate excluding Turkey. Who, coincidentally, is Muslim. On the building, I admit to finding it sterile, overbearing and even mean-spirited; efficient comes to mind and London's Broadgate or NY's Midtown have similar glass-steel structures that scream "power" and its little brother "arrogance." But again, the EU is one of the world's great institutions and on a nice day I reflect on its importance rather than the architecture.

“They [black children] might think they’ve got a pretty jump shot or a pretty good flow, but our kids can’t all aspire to be LeBron or Lil Wayne. I want them aspiring to be scientists and engineers, doctors and teachers, not just ballers and rappers. I want them aspiring to be a Supreme Court justice. I want them aspiring to be president of the United States of America.”
-- Barack Obama, 16/7/2009

Older fellow watches Madeleine jump from a seven foot fence into some mud: "That is not very lady-like."
Madeleine: "I am not a lady."

Goldman's Bonus

This object from the Whitechapel gallery before a security guard told me to put a cap on my camera. I cannot say the artist, which is a shame since I like the design.

Gary Pucknell, a 28 year-old London black cab driver, killed himself the other day when he tied a rope around his neck and the other end to a lamp post and drove off. His body found in his cab at a petrol station in Southwark. Maybe he suffered the injustice of Goldman Sachs, who is set to bonus themselves the most ever in their 140 year history; this after getting bailed out twelve months ago. Don't get me wrong - I am totally impressed by Goldman's numbers (Q2 profits of $3.44 billion) and all for pay-for-performance. Others could have taken taken similar risks and reaped similar rewards presumably. But they lacked the nerve, capital or brains. Others could have played the US government the way Goldman has, pressing for bailout money and cheap credit (ex-Goldman Chief Exec and Bush's Secretary of the Treasury Hank Paulson - insider? Nah.) But nobody did nor with such verve and panache. Goldman did this while reducing their leverage by half, borrowing $14 for every $1 invested, down from $28 a year ago. No wonder they are kicking the sand on the beach and picking up the pretty girls. The problem, though, is this: Goldman is in business thanks to the Treasury who served as a multi-billion dollar back-stop to their risk taking. They went out on the plank knowing Uncle Sam would bail their ass should things go wrong (thank you, Hank). Then, once successful, they repaid the TARP as quickly as can be to bonus their people who otherwise can't take rewards while owing the government. There is a reason your bank doesn't want you to pre-pay the mortgage (or charges a penalty if you do). Government supports Goldman while ordinary Joes like Gary must wait years for help. This does not make Goldman popular but, hey, I couldn't get a job there after college and business school so these may just be sour grapes. Bastards. But clever bastards they are.

Eitan to me this morning: "You have very hairy under-arms, my friend."

Bentford

Eitan's Kew Park Rangers in action Saturday, and Eitan (No. 7) selected team captain by his coach and team mates (you can see the band on his upper left arm). Coach tells me that Eitan shares the ball and always trying to set up the strike instead of taking it for himself. I note that while all the boys goofing or distracted, Eitan is steely eyed and quiet. I think they respect his seriousness. Most likely he will remain captain for the season which begins in the fall. Note, dear reader, his yellow boots. The morning off with a blast as KPR defeat their first opponents 6-nil; they then lose to Fulham 1-0, but encouraging since this the best team on the pitch. We then lose concentration and flub the last match 5-2. The boys have come along since their early days together and now look like, well, a team. They know their spots, pass the ball and share any glory. Coach gets them ice cream and I have to pry the Boy away for home.

Italy Vs. England

I have hundreds of photos of Eitan and Madeleine stuffing their little faces at McDonald's. Who can deny them?

You know it is getting dire when the Italians compare themselves favourably to us, as national paper Il Giornale did yesterday (Giornale owned by Silvio Berlusconi, so this his view to, presumably). The sad thing is, on many comparables the basket-case Italians fair well: in politics, Gordon Brown collapsed and the labour model in crisis while Italy has upheld the G8 and Silvio polls well; the British economy dire and the the City/ housing market gone bust while the Italian state has not had to bail out one single bank (hard to believe, really); Britain’s Savile Row a memory of its former self while “Made in Italy” the world’s leading brand in fashion; Industry – Britain has lost many of its world leading companies while Italy punches with Fiat; Crime - Britain the most drunk, yobbish and violent people in Europe while Italy nary a fuss if we exclude the mafia who at least seem polite. And where it hurts most: Football. Yes, as inventors of the beautiful game we must pin our hopes on .. Fabio Capello, an Italian, who was recruited to head the English team despite barely speaking English. Of course what Il Giornale fails to suggest is that the British economy, fuelled by London’s southeast and low taxes has been a miracle since Thatcher pulling the country from third-world status (1978 IMF loans) to today, the fourth wealthiest in the world. And while our politics messy and scandal prone, at least our PM not sticking his grubby fingers down some young lady's panties. Plus we have Wills. It’s hard not to be upset about the football though – we have the best league in the world with most of the world’s global stars yet our boys can’t bring us a cup. Shameful, really.

Melt Down

California is having a moment. Due to political extremes (Democrats refuse to budge on program cuts, Republicans taxes) the state has a budget deficit of $26.3 billion on revenues of $113 billion. Its total outstanding obligations: $59 billion in general debt, $8 billion in bonds linked to securitised revenues and $2 billion in commerical paper. While all this sounds like a heck uv a lot of money, Brownie, the deficit (the important figure since California, like most states, has a balanced budget rule) is 1.5% of state GDP. This compares to Federal Governments deficit of 14-15% to US GDP (for context, the federal deficit greater than the entire California economy which is the fifth largest in the world at over $1.8T). So, the budget must be balanced somehow. And worse for Californians, the state pain piled on top of its contribution to correcting the Federal public finances. It's kinda like going to the dentist for a cavity and getting a root canal. So we watch the train light in the black tunnel.. closer and closer it comes. Choo choo! As an interium measure, Sacramento has issued IOUs which, for now, accepted by banks but when this ends, and it will, everything will .. stop. Teachers will won't teach; cops will be off the beat; fire fighters won't fight fires; garbage collectors won't take the garbabe and so on and so forth.

So what will happen? It is my great hope that Washington D.C. preparing to take over the state. Seriously. In return for bailing out California, Californians will no longer have control over their destiny until they get their house in order. This is what we do to Third World countries who approach us or the UNDP with their bowl facing up. Why should the Golden State be different? A further condition is to remove the stupidity of "propositions" or single-issue referenda on anything including budgertary matters. This alone has made the state ungovernable even with a popular muscle man like Schwarzenegger. California, and our country too, has acted like a teen-ager with too many credit cards and no parental control. This will correct somehow, of this we can be sure, and so we must ask ourselves yet again: will it be a soft landing or something far worse?

Self Portrait X

My Senior Year - pictured - with flat-top anticipating the Northcoast Swimming Championships, where I placed 4th in the 500 yard freestyle and 6th in the 200. I should have won the 500 and so just one of those things I must look back on and .. what? If I had swum to my ability, I would have taken Todd Skow, who owns top honor.

I marvel at John McCain who defends Sarah Palin, the non-quitter quitter. When asked point-blank on Meet The Press re her failure as Governor, notes McCain: “I don’t think she quit. I don’t know if there was a quote promise [to the people of Alaska to continue serving as Governor]. But I do know that she will be an effective player on the national stage.” Oh brother - only if she takes some Tylenol for that time of the month. And further, McC says Palin’s resignation consistent with his qualities of leadership, because she made the decision that “she can be most effective by stepping down, and she did.” What horse shit. Clearly McCain is damned if he does and damned if he doesn't - stating the obvious (Palin quit! Not ready for the White House) - would reflect horribly on him and the five minutes he spent with Palin before selecting her for his VP. By not stating the obvious ... well, he looks like an idiot. The guy has earned his stripes and on the backside of his political career so why not be the fellow we all know is a hero and who we cheered for during much of his career. Bunk.

Lawyers overseeing the liquidation of Bernard Madoff's estate and former business have filed a preliminary request with the bankruptcy court for $14.7 million in fees and expenses for their work through the end of April. This reminds me of something a wise man once told me: "to make money, you must be near money."

Here's another one to ponder: Last year, UK consumers took home 9.9 billion plastic bags which each take 500 to 1000 years to degrade. Susan Kramer of Richmond Park and my MP asks me to cut back.

"Only dead fish go with the flow."
--Former Governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin