'85

Alison posts this wonderful photograph of us in our prime - Berkeley High School our Senior Year or "Kicking it live and busting out of the hive in '85" (our school mascot the yellow jacket). I could name most of the people but for now glaze over the individuals to revel in our youth. Picture on the steps leading to the school auditorium where we gathered for lunch between class every day from Sophomore to Senior year (ninth grade at West Campus, a weird Berkeley-only public school experiment in a bad part of town). And yes, that is me on the left in flooding jeans. Très cool then, I should think.

My day off to an interesting start - running late I arrive at The Wolseley to find that I have two dates converging at the same time unexpectedly. Since my name on the reso, everybody perplexed before I arrive. It was all a bit awkward which I handled appropriately by sweating inappropriately. Afterwards I see the dismissed party taking them flowers - a nice welcoming since they are French and have started a new investment business in Mayfair. Probably they are not otherwise receiving bouquets, to my credit. My evening ends at yoga and now the couch where I watch a UEAFA Cup qualifier which Eitan begs his way into - past his bedtime. Liverpool trouncing Real Madrid 3-nil when I send Eitan off to bed grumbling. Meanwhile, I tell a restless Madeleine that her teacher has threatened to tie her up in chains and hang her from the classroom ceiling. Says Madeleine with some worry: "do you swear, dad- do you?" The game is up when Sonnet rolls her eyes (as ever) and Madeleine informs me she knew I was lying because my ears red. This leads into a lengthy series of lies, no-lies with questions like: 'you snore in your sleep' or 'your mother screamed bloody murder when you were born.' Just any old night of the week this could be.