Trafalgar Squae

Trafalgar Square on an early springtime evening pulses with the energy of the city. I walk by on my way to the tube most evenings, reflecting on Nelson who graces us passengers with his presence of history.

The Square bordered by the National Gallery and St Martin In The Field church to the North and the Pall Mall to the southwest. 17 bus routes pass Trafalgar Sq making it the hub for central London transportation. It was once famous for its feral pigeons until Ken Livingstone got rid of them with 4 hawks.

My first visit to TS was the summer of 1981. Gulp.

Madeleine calls Sonnet's mobile, interrupting a dinner party: "There's no food in the house."
Sonnet: "There are meatballs in the refrigerator."
Madeleine:
Sonnet: "You have to heat them in the oven. No microwave."
Madeleine: "What?"
Sonnet: "Madeleine you will have to sort yourself out." [Dad's note: meatballs untouched]

Madeleine In Flow

200 psi

Madeleine gets down and dirty power washing the front of the house for some dough. On the day, I must remind her she committed herself to the project. She does a bang up job.

A bottle of vodka goes missing from the pantry.
Me to Sonnet: "I'm pretty sure I put it there. I bet one of the kids took it."
Sonnet: "Would they do it?"
Me: "Madeleine would."
Later, me to Madeleine: "Did you take a bottle of vodka from the pantry?"
Madeleine: "I'm not going to lie to you Dad."
Me: "Well I'm glad for that."
Later, me to Sonnet: "Well you have to admit I nailed that one."

I get Madeleine a book, "The Joy Of Socks"
Madeleine: "You know there is another book called like that."
Me: "I hadn't thought of it."

Madeleine looks at my phone: "Why do you have your mobile number on your phone?"
Me:
Madeleine: "It's not your number, is it?"
Me: "I'm not sure who gets the credit here."

Royal Russell School

Post match

The morning spent in Croydon, a town as ugly as the name. Kate Moss is from here but other than that not much else. A giant Ikea. Rows of unloved houses with concrete fronts abutting busy traffic; the High Street spotted with a Sam's Chicken or bathroom tiling forcing one to think of toilets.

Above it all, on a hill in a park, is Royal Russell, an independent school with one of the best football clubs in the country, playing the Hampton 1st II, the top team at Hampton School. Eitan called up last week from the U16s and is one of the youngest on the pitch.

The match set for the Semi Final of the Trinity Cup. Both sides evenly matched in a thriller which sees Royal up 1-nil which Hampton equalises in the opening 2nd half. A 2nd Hampton goal appears to assure a victory but in the last moments Russell nails a corner kick. Extra time. Neither draws blood. Eitan almost nearly catches everybody off guard with a 20m shot that forces the goal keeper to go parallel to the turf.  Inches. Inches. In the end, the dreaded PKs.

Hampton loses but there is no shame.  Eitan plays over his head and the lads do their school proud.

Tristram

The VA's 70% female curators could just eat up the new Director

Sonnet and I attend the Directors Circle dinner in the Rafael Cartoon Gallery at the VA, a resplendent location surrounded be the famous canvases in their perpetual state of preparation for the final tapestries.  Two long tables are graced with the museum's finest China and silver while cherry blossoms adorn the setting - perfect for the season.  The lighting is dark and sombre, appropriate for the wealth in the chamber. Nic Coleridge, the Trustee's Chair, introduces the new Director Tristram Hunt.

Talk about pressure on poor Tristram. The museum's patrons are primed for his presentation and looking to be convinced by the former Labour politician who is only just in his forties at 42. What the heck does he know and why does he deserve it?

Tristram bounds to the podium and delivers a masterful speech full of enthusiasm and familiar words used by the rich - words like wonderfully, enormously, unrivalled, immensely and so on and so forth. It comes across.

I meet Tristram before the reception and naturally we discuss Sonnet's NYT Op-Ed and TEDx talk about museums not hiring female directors. It was a bit awkward, we both awknowledge.

Goldcrest

A friendly visitor

This little Goldcrest spent 40 minutes in the same spot outside our living room window. It was difficult to get a photo since he was in constant motion. It's hard to say what he was doing but I think likely eating the aphids off the tree.  

The Goldcrest is the smallest bird in Europe.

The British are mad about bird-watching. Not far from us is the Barnes Wetland Centre on the old reclaimed Barnes Elms reservoir on the Thames between Barnes and Fulham. The 29 hectares host birds not found anywhere else in London or on migration to somewhere else. As entertaining are the bird spotters in their camouflaging outfits with sturdy portable chair and hi-tech binoculars. Each bird recorded in a trusty ledger. It is one vision of retirement.

DiGiCo

A sound engineer works his magic

As interesting as the concert itself is the mixing console - a DiGiCo - as Astorg acquired Audiotonix which owns the DiGiCo brand. The deal closed last month.

Mixing consoles combine, route and change the volumes, tones and dynamics of many different audio coming from the stage like the vocals, drums, saxophones and drums. There may be as many as 200 channels for the sound engineer to optimise before blasting the data to 1000s of speakers. DiGiCo is the world market leader used by the Rolling Stones, Beyonce, Adele and, of course, the Xx.

Chris, Madeleine's new friend, knocks on the door.
Me: "I'd better put my serious face on."
Madeleine: "Just don't act weird, OK?"
Me: "Whose acting weird?"
Madeleine: "Whatever."
Me to Chris: "Good evening, Chris."
Chris: "Hello, sir."
Me: "How was rowing this week?" [Dad's note: Chris rows for The Oratory school]
Chris: "It was fine, sir. We caught a crab though. In our race."
Me: "You caught a crab, did you?"
Chris: 'Yes, sir. We caught a crab. In the eights."
Me: "Well I'm sure it was a healthy crab."
Madeleine: "Oh my god."

The Xx

I duck out to see The Xx at Brixton Academy on the first night of 7 sold out concerts.

The double header continues to last night when Sonnet and I see Edward Albee's 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?" made famous by Elisabeth Taylor and Richard Burton who allegedly lived out their real lives in the film. And, boy, is it miserable but amazing theatre. Imelda Staunton (who also plays Dolores Umbridge in the Potter movies) is devastating.  Sonnet spots Judi Dench who offers a standing ovation.

And happily it is Friday again.

Eitan Attacks

No weekend is complete without an action-shot so here it is: Eitan heading the ball against RGS Guilford.

Hampton play the semi-finals of the Trinity Cup (an important one, Eitan says), defeating Guilford with a satisfying 2-1 result after being down one goal.  The boys deserve the win having outplayed their opponent - it is often not the way with football. Eitan plays to his strength at center mid-field with flawless execution setting the tone for the come-back win.

Next up : Royal Russell, the best independent school in the country.

TV Berlin

The Fernsehturm, at 368 meters, is the 2nd tallest structure in Europe, a half-meter shorter than the Riga tower in Latvia. But hey - who's competing ? Completed in 1969, Berlin's tower was made to be a symbol to East and West Berlin.

So I am in Berlin last week for the Super Return conference, the largest conference dedicated to private in the world, and 25 meetings with investors. It is a grind but also fun: following the fundraising I know many people here so we catch up on various activities and gossips.

I make sure to visit Berlin's 'museum island' and, this time, it is the Pagomon Museum which owns the world's largest collection of Islamic art, including the Ishtar Gate, which was the 8th gate to the inner city of Babylon, constructed from about 575 BC and excavated in the early 20th century.

While beautiful, Islamic art is void of human representations due to the Islamic believe that the creation of living beings is unique to God, and therefore the role of images and image makers is considered controversial.

The A Squad

Emanuel competes in a field hockey tournament. Maddy is on the A team.

The girls arrive at 45 the night before for an over-night, ostensibly to get a good night sleep before the 7AM ride to the school pick-up (Sonnet reports laughter at 1Am). They are joined by two boys which adds to the gaiety. When I see them together I think : Kids, but Madeleine is confident and mature.  I remind myself what my friends were up to at this age. My eyes are open to it.

Me: "How nice of you to join me and your mother for an adult conversation." [Dad's note: We have dinner together while Eitan studies]
Madeleine: "Yeah, so ?"
Me: "It's taken me 15 years to get here."
Madeleine:
Me: "15 years of hard work."
Madeleine: "Gee, thanks Dad."
Me: "You are my masterpiece."
Sonnet: "How do you expect her to talk to us when you tease her like that:"
Me: "One word: Food."
Madeleine rolls her eyes.
Me: "A second word: Allowance."
Madeleine: "I get it, OK ?"
Me: "Kid, you can always count on food and allowance from your Dad. Even when you are 40."
Madeleine:
Me: "As long as you talk to us."

New York 90s

Photo from Adam in 1995 taken during the first weeks of my re-location to NYC for the Columbia Business School.

That was a hard transition leaving everything I held dear : family, friends and of course Sonnet. The mountains and blue Pacific and an easy life living at home, running a non-profit I valued and training my ass off for road races and a marathon. I suppose : it needed to be shaken up.

When I arrived in New York (it was 50:50 I would remain, having deferred Columbia for 2 years), I stayed with Christian before finding an apartment suitable for Sonnet and her cat Dominique. Katie was there. Before long, Adam arrived and, with other waylaid Berkeley friends, we spent a brief summer escaping the oppressive heat while hacking around Manhattan : Jogs in Central Park, martinis at MOMA, night clubs, Sheeps Meadow , Long Island beaches and New Years in Soho. It was a wholly unsettled time, too busy to be enjoyed, miserable and yet glorious. And now romantic.

The Nationals

Back straight

The course inside ancient Wollaton Park complete with an Elizabethan mansion and gatehouse. Think Sherwood Forrest and Robin Hood. The course is complicated, starting in an open field that consolidates rapidly onto a narrow mud path covering two loops across flagged open fields, along a swampy crick and through deep sucking puddles. I agitate to compete, ah to be 18 again and injury free.

Post race relief

Madeleine and Eitan in good spirit, each competing towards the mid or upper half of the pack for their age-bracket. The races are 600-700 athletes and a scrum for the first kilometre before the beast widens into the gazellean front-runners followed by everybody else huffing and puffing in various states of concentration and agony.

Afterwards we find a nice family pub that takes dogs before the 2 hour drive home.

Pre Race

We drive the M1 (called, simply, The North) to Nottingham so the kids can compete the English national cross country championships the following morning (Saturday). Here we are pre race carbo loading from what's available at the local restaurant : sausages, bacon and anything fried. I force the kids to eat porridge which I imagine has not been ordered here yet this year or ever.

I find I use my camera less these days. The kids remain good models letting me stick a lens in their face most of the time. They encourage me to keep the blog going for family record and enjoyment while my subject matter narrows : Sonnet and I are in-career so not much drama to report while Eitan and Madeleine have their private lives to tend to. They don't want it splashed on the web. There is always the dog.

Volare

Sunday morning with the Stones

Every now and again I get a new band on the Shakespeares - recently it's been 'tennis' and 'Car Seat Headrest', thanks mostly to Christian in LA.  But what has been equally encouraging is their taste in retro 1970s music, dumping the useless 90s and jumping over the cheery synth pop of the 1980s.

I overhear songs by The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Simon & Garfunkel and the Stones floating around the house or played in the car, which makes me smile. The classics only get more classic.

Walking on a public street I sing 'Volaire Oh Oh."
Madeleine: "Oh my God dad."
Me: "What, You don't like Volare ?"
Madeleine:
Me: "Given the absurdity of the human experience, singing Volare is hardly going to move the needle."

My Urban Chica

Thames, north side

Having turned 15 this moth, Madeleine continues to experiment with being a teenager. It means swings from clothes, moods, interests and music. All about right. 

Lately she is excited about film and screened Taxi Driver and Apocalypse Now, which we discuss over the dinner table. I make a few suggestions ("Coming Home" with Jane Fonda; "Ghost In The Shell" by Kôkaku Kidôtai before ruined by Scarlett Johansson). She covers her room with photos of her friends and places and her walls with rock posters from the 1970s. She has moved from comics to film photography; from insects and bugs to vinyls. 

I embarrass her to death (but can also make her smile or, on occassion, laugh - moments I live for). And she makes me feel my age. Sonnet and I are observers to this next generation. Our youthful complexities are not theirs.

She has become the most interesting human being to me.

Brave New World

Everyone should have one of these

This happy face has greeted me every day for nearly 25 years.

Yesterday we go for a walk in the Surrey Hills initially planned for the family but the kids have other plans: Madeleine with friends, Eitan in the books. Fair enough. So it is me and her and the Dog. Soon it will be like this every day. Woof.

It strikes me that there is a possibility that Madeleine will end up in the US - California! - while Eitan, who is more cautious by nature and likes to have his ducks lined up, could remain in the UK. Does it mean if, one day, we return to America we desert the boy ? It's never going to happen.

Donald Trump is a narcissist, a bankrupt and now a defunct Leader. His cabinet a disaster of billionaire hacks of ideologues or money (or both). The transition painful to observe while the Republicans have no plan for anything. Health care? You poor suckers. Manufacturing jobs ? Sorry, Charlie, it is not about Mexico nor killing free trade. The Wall ? 25 billion spent on this nonsense instead of schools. Russia is celebrating while Trump keeps his Russian secrets. Whatever happened to those tax returns anyway ?

No smugness from the UK as we soon activate Article 50.

Father Son

The boy and I on Saturday after a x-country race on the Wimbledon common where Eitan finishes 14th of c.60 runners.

I return same morning from California and a busy trip, meeting some large institutional investors interested in Astorg, seeing ancient friends and connecting with others including Barney, a former Nasa scientist who sold his company, Power Set, to Microsoft ten years ago. Barney founded Moon Shot and expects to place a robot on the moon in 2018, carried by the Chinese. His expertise is neural networks and AI, where he is tops in the field.

I also connect with Josh, a GP at Top Class Matrix Partners. Josh and I played poker in London for 7 years or so before he went Big Time and founded Flutter, which merged with Betfair, becoming the largest online gambling site in the world, and now publicly traded. I envy Josh who meets the most interesting people, doing (or trying) extraordinary things, at the centre of the tech universe.

In London, Madeleine and I check out the Paul Nash exhibition at the Tate Modern. I am new to his work, which progressed from WWI to abstract paintings, no doubt in part for what he saw on the battlefield.

OSA

I visit Dave at the Oakland School of the Art in downtown Oakland. He is the Jazz Program Director and teaches a couple hundred students to make music. Together. And it's good. Dave's life has waited for this job.

The OSA is straight outa Fame (1982 TV where students at New York's famous High School for the Performing Arts pour their hearts and souls into their training to become stars in their chosen field) . The school founded in 2002 with a mission to provide students with immersive, conservatory-style arts training in a college prep setting. The school curriculum revolves around the concept of integration between academic subjects and the arts. OSA currently serves 700 students in grades 6–12. Most of the kids are from challenged backgrounds yet, at school, it is left at the door.

Tunitas Creek Beach

Moody cliffs

I exit San Francisco to connect on HW1 to return to Tunitas Creek Beach where I was with Madeleine in October. Last time I only had my iPhone to take a photo of this beautiful Pacific landscape; this time I have a proper camera and hang around several hours as the skies clear from heavy rains.

I meet a friendly Dutch couple who recently moved to SF from Minnesota and they are excited to be living The Dream. We discuss various places to visit (easy one : Napa, Yosemite, Point Reyes) and differences to Europe (more open space here; California has it all). They wish me luck on my picture taking and I wish them luck with their lives.

Moe and Grace are doing a fabulous job keeping each other fit and loved. Getting old is hard work but not without its dignity.

California Natives

Tyler and I meet 8AM at the Dolphin Club on the northern end of Fisherman's Wharf and below Ghirardelli Chocolates (last time I was in this spot was 1994 when I ran 59:59 for a 10-mile road race knowing full well at the time it was my shot to break an hour. Another story).

Our aim : to swim, well, in the Bay which is 53 F (13.5 C). I've never been in temps like this - coldest perhaps around 60 in the Pacific in a 3/2 density wet suit.  There are a bunch of swimmers, kooks and enthusiasts huddled in the clubhouse drinking coffee and encouraging each other forward or telling stories of when it was really cold. Tyler, Matt and I tip-toe to the small beach in our swim suits and insulating caps then, without preamble, race into the Bay.

It is f***ing freezing and the shock is agonising. The first 15 minutes I am concerned I will hyper-ventilate or worse. Tyler provides encouragement and security though I am not sure he would be so useful if I seize up and go down.

Then, blissfully, the exertion heats the body, the blood rushes inward to protect some organs and my limbs go comfortably numb. We laugh and chat and float in the sunshine, looking across the water at Alcatraz before returning to shore.

The rest of the day I have a distinct buzz. I can see how it is addictive and could be life changing if done regularly.