British Riviera

Here I am being silly, to the kid's disgust but to my bonhomie. After an early morning run to work off the Big Dinner, we head for the British seaside, in this case Torquay which has lovely fine sand and long wide beaches. Even better and since tidal, there are rocks where the kids scramble for crabs and sea-shells (Eitan wales when he cannot bring his crab home - I tell him OK but on the condition we ferment the thing in rubbing alcohol. I figure it is a good science project). Everybody is pretty darn tired when we arrive home this evening, so the kids in PJ's fast and I prepare for tomorrow's trip to Finland. Sonnet will join me, which will be fun and a fun adventure.

Madeleine tells me she hates the following chewing gum, all of which I have purchased for the car-rid: spearmint, peppermint, cherry and Tutti Fruitti. "No way, dad" she exclaims close to tears. Eitan pipes in: "she only likes Hubba Bubba." (and God only knows what that is).

Fozzy

Fozzy here belongs to Halley and Willem, and was bred to chase foxes down holes, Willem tells me. These dogs travel with the hunt and when the fox makes a break for it down a tunnel, in goes Fozzy. Not surprisingly, he is irrepressible and chases everything from rabbit to dog, sometimes resulting in a a nasty growling or worse - a pit bull, for instance, recently got a clamp on Fozzy, who almost lost his front leg in the exchange. Eitan and Madeleine argue over the leash and it is questionable whether dog or child has the lead.

Meanwhile, in the afternoon, Halley prepares a 20 lb bird for our belated Thanksgiving - the meal is fabulous, with all the stuffing. I'm impressed as Halley and I have joked about cold turkey sandwiches on Wonder bread with mayonnaise so my expectations were, ahem, low. Any case with us are two of Willem's colleagues at Exeter University, who have joined Willem this fall from Duke and Michigan. In total, we are four PhDs, and seven MA's. Since it is Thanksgiving, I ask for a count on the Star Spangled Banner. There is some shuffling, but I think most of us can mumble our way through it. On the U.S. Constitution, it is dire: nobody is able to list the first ten amendments. If not this crowd, I wonder, then who? Bush and the Republic fight for our so-called freedoms, but how do we know when they have gone? In England, we will surely have identity cards and I am photographed 300 times a day in Central London - soon, no doubt, this data will be linked to the police, my medicals and etc. England has a parliamentary democracy and the Magna Charta instead of a Constitution - the politics therefore work, but our civil rights are greying. In America, perhaps it is the the reverse - for now, until your phone is generally tapped and habeas corpus gone, thank you Gitmo. But hey, man, if nobody knows what they are missing - what the worry?

Madeleine loses her second front tooth in the car-ride to Devon, and promptly loses it. It is somehow retrieved in the seat-crack otherwise, I tell her, "no Tooth Ferry." Those are the breaks, kid. Sonnet awakes at 5AM in a panic, remembering to put two pounds under Madeleine's pillow.

Exuberence

Madeleine at Hotel Barcelona in Exeter. We drive to Devon yesterday afternoon, just nipping the weekend traffic. The journey is about three hours and we amuse ourselves with Willie Nelson and Twenty Questions, which I enhance with a £1 promise to the winner. Both kids go for it with varying degrees of interest and success. Our weekend will be spent with Willem and Halley, Sonnet's dear friend from Smith and their two lovely girls (Sonnet is the God Mother to the youngest). We have been here many times including this hotel which is funky, has a cool art-deco bar and kids friendly - what more could one wish for? In 2000, months before Eitan was born, we rambled through the countryside visiting small villages each with a 500 year old church and a few gravestones, a red mail box and phone booth and of course a cozy pub. Sonnet huffed and puffed. This morning following breakfast (Buffet! the kids shriek) I arrange several "time trials" so they may burn off energy before we start the day - pictured.

During 20 Questions, Madeleine: "It is a person."
Me: "Is it somebody I know?"
Madeleine: "No."
Me: "How can I guess if I don't know the person?!"
Madeleine, after a thoughtful pause: "Well, I know her."

Oh Sweet Blood

Madeleine, feeling a bit jealous about other's attention, upgrades the scratch on her nose to a medical situation. She begs for a cotton bandage, which Aggie lovingly provides just prior to bed time: "I'm going to take it to show-and-tell!" she exclaims. And she does.

Sonnet and I see the fabulous Joshua Redman at the Queen Elizabeth Hall last night with Emily - who runs the BBC's religious desk and recently earned two prestigious awards on her program's coverage of Israeli-Palestinian organ donations. Any case, Josh was graduated from Berkeley High School in '86 and with Katie, went to Harvard U. His father, Dewie Redman, is a jazz legend and Josh's road forked when he got a perfect score on his LSATs and admission to Yale Law. Rather than pursue fortune, he went for fame - and has achieved both with numerous acclaimed albums including his most recent "Back East." His main instrument is the tenor saxophone, but he also plays other wind instruments during the two hour performance which raises the house at its conclusion. Josh is anything but still and jumps and jives around his trio who themselves are world class on the strings and drums. Sonnet and I saw both Redmans at different times in Camden our first years in London - each time bringing Berkeley props in da house. Oh yeah.

Turkey Hangover

Steve McClaren and fitting for the photo, resigns as Coach of Team England following the disaster that was Wednesday's game. Adding to the misery, Croatia captain Niko Kovak rubs it in: "it was easy to beat England" he says, describing our lads as "predictable and one-dimensional" only playing the long-ball to Crouch "making it very easy to stop." Kovak's nail in the coffin: "Croatia are a team while England are not. We have players who love to take the opponent in a one-to-one situation but England don't seem to have players like this." Ouch.

Such comments are shaming given England invented the Beautiful Game, for Pete's sake, and has the most competitive and expensive league in the world. Sadly, the net net is a bunch of over-paid prima donas who cannot come together for their country, who is desperate for a bit of respect on the global stage. Instead, our guys whine, whenge and moan when things turn against them and they are pilloried in the press - which Wednesday they clearly deserved along with the coach. And who will take the helm next? And who would want to, that is the question, dear fan.

Croatia 3, England 2

Well, we lose another heart-breaker this time failing to get the crucial result at Wembly. England had to earn a draw last night to advance to the European Cup Finals but it was all dashed in the first 14 minutes when Croatia punished our new goal keeper Carson, who let through two dreadful strikes (Eitan: "I could have stopped that one, dad"). Despite the first half, England made some adjustments and came out swinging - tying the match on a Lampard penalty and then a lovely Beckham to Crouchy pass-header (Crouch pictured, thank you Getty Images). It was all looking rosy until the hammer dropped with Croatia's third strike, a stunner that sailed past our day dreaming, butter fingered Carson. 25 minutes plus 3 more in overage netted zilch and England Coach McClaren was sacked today in an emergency FA counsel meeting, 0800 (bru-tal). The country now settles into its post adrenaline, way hung-over and all-collective b-u-m-m-e-r. It is raining in London and no championships to look forward to.

Spy vs. Spy

Ah, Spy vs. Spy. I'm not sure why I'm on this trip but I recently sourced the cartoon on the Internet. For those on the outside, Spy vs. Spy is a wordless black and white comic published by Mad Magazine since 1961. It was created by Cuban Antonio Prohías, who fled to the U.S. in 1960, just days before Fidel Castro took over the Cuban free press. Needless to say, The "Spy vs. Spy" cartoon was symbolic of the Cold War, and was Prohías's comment on the futility of armed escalation and detente. Under the Spy vs. Spy title panel, the words "BY PROHIAS" are spelled out in Morse code, which would be: -••• -•-- •--• •-• --- •••• •• •- •••.

I remember perusing the magazines rack as a kid while Grace shopped in Safeway or the Berkeley Co-op on Shatuck Ave. (now Andronico's). Mad was the so obvious choice - a cartoon first of all, but also edgy and an unintentional secret view into the adult's world. There were violent and sexual themes (Spy vs. Spy was hugely gory and a precursor to The Simpson's "Itchy and Scratchy Show" which amuses Bart with its decapitations and blood-lettings). Most of all, Mad was a secret pleasure, a comic that could be read in the privacy of one's closet or in the basement. It wasn't Playboy or Penthouse - that would come later - but for a ten year old, man, it was all that.

Whomper

Picture of Eitan with his "tactic" Whomper. Recall that the boys trade these action figures like crazy and Whomper is at the top of the value-chain given his mass and over-sized swinging arm which, presumably, can crush other tactics. I dash across town from Mayfair to see the kid's singing assembly, though when I ask just now what they sang both reply with blank faces and silence. Each has more important thing on the mind : tonight's do-or-die Euro Cup qualifier against Croatia, for instance. Russia coughed up a hair-ball Saturday losing to Israel and giving us a window of hope: a tie puts us into the summer '08 finals while a win would be, well, ecstasy. The game kicks off at 8PM, well past Eitan and Madeleine's bedtime, but I tell Natasha that if they do a solid hour of reading and other homework, the first half of the game is theirs. Come on, England!

Darling

What is going on with our Chancellor?! Alistair Darling was forced to defend his handling of the Northern Rock collapse, making his second statement to the Commons in as many days as the Rock's shares went into a free-fall following a failed sale to private equity (note, dear reader, that an unseemly depositor run on Northern Rock occurred last month due to its exposure to the sub-prime fiasco. Northern Rock is (or was?) the UK's fifth largest mortgage lender. We, the friendly British tax payer, have been stung by at least a £20B exposure). As if that were not bad enough, Britain's most senior tax man, Paul Gray, quit his £170,000-a-year job today as head of HM Customs and Revenue after he lost two discs containing confidential bank details on 7.5 million British families including, perhaps, US. This data includes bank account details, birth dates, addresses and tax-payer IDs (the equivalent of a U.S. Social Security number). The names of 15 million children are there too. Such a mess to occur in England, home of the world's financial center, is just plain shocking. Gordon Brown has rolled from one crises to the next since taking over from Tony. To his credit, until the autumn elections cock-up, Gordon has handled himself admirably. Oh how the perception of him has changed. And fast. Good bye, lame duck.

G I Jane

Sonnet puts her British on before a Mach VIII Cromwell. She must deliver an item from the Imperial War Museum to the V&A so I pick her up for lunch and accompany her to the pick-up. I'm pretty interested in the V-2 rocket in the main gallery and a staple of Thomas Pynchon's "Gravity's Rainbow" which I famously quit with 40 pages to go. What the hell is Pynchon about? I still wonder. Any case, I wandered the Imperial for the first time during the Orenstein family's European Hot Rocks trip in 1980. I distinctly recall the toy soldiers and etc. Moe was pretty keen on the battle stuff too- and why not? Guns and steel is cool at any age. In the museum shop I purchase Shoah, which tells the Holocaust through first-person witness.

The Cromwell, BTW, was the fastest British tank to serve in WW2, with a top speed of about 40 mph. - fast for its time. Thanks to its Christie parentage the Cromwell was also agile on the battlefield, blasting away without a care in the world. The dual purpose 75 mm main gun fired the same ammunition as the US 75 mm gun and therefore it had around the same HE and armour-piercing capabilities as the 75 mm equipped Sherman tank. The Cromwell's armour ranged from 8 mm to 76 mm thick overall but the maximum thickness was later increased to 102 mm with appliqué armour plates which were welded on. This armour compared well with that of the Sherman although the Cromwell did not share the Sherman’s sloped glacis plate. The Cromwell crews in North-West Europe succeeded in the Cromwell with superior speed, manoeuvrability and reliability outflanking the heavier and more sluggish German tanks; however, the Cromwell was still not a match for the best German armour and British tank design would go through another stage, the Comet tank, before going ahead in the tank development race with the Centurio tank. Ah, such blissful times and times of bliss.

Sonnet gives a late evening tour of Haute Couture at the V&A with our friends Tony and Susan; afterwards we have a fun dinner and to bed at mid-night. Both of us feeling a bit flattened today following a boozy night (me) and five hours rest (us).

Lifeline

Despite best efforts to miss the '08 European Cup, England is given a big assist from Israel who defeats heavily favored Russia in a crucial qualifier yesterday (photo from prweb.com). England will play Croatia Wednesday and we must win or draw for a ticket to the finals (if Russia had won, it was all over). I tell groggy Eitan first thing this morning about the Ruskies loss and he jumps for joy. It is not all good news, though, as Michael Owen is lost for Croatia having re-injured himself against Austria in a lack-lustre 1-0 victory (Crouchy scored the decider on a ripping header). We will be glued to the T.V. come Wednesday, no doubt.

The average top fooballer earns £21,154 per week, up from £100 in 1966. This compares to a teacher (£661 per week now, versus £27 then) and a GP (£2,115, up from £71) and the national average( £452 now, £18 then). Footballers have enjoyed a %1,459 salary gain, after inflation which is one reason the hard-hats, such as the tube, go on strike. Yet even they, oh fabled consumers of The Sun's page three titties and the heart-stopping chip buttie, would agree that football is far more important than keeping the country running. And by a large margin, BTW.

Kiddios

Yes, it is way past fall and Eitan and I discuss why leaves change in autumn and winter: "photosynthesis!" he shouts, and I note that it is the lack of sunshine which triggers their loss.

Me to Madeleine: "What is five plus one?" Madeleine: "Six!"
Me: "What is twenty-five plus one?"
Madeleine: "Dad! that is too hard!"

Rather than drive to the toy store for Eitan's Tamagatchi, we walk which raises howls of protests then a discussion about ways we can reduce pollution. Some good ideas:
"Take the bus!
Don't use plastic bags!
Turn off the lights!
Hug a fish! (Madeleine)
Don't flush the toilet! (Eitan)
Be friendly to people (Eitan)
Walk on your hands! (Madeleine)

Eitan goes to a Lucas and Emma joint birthday production at Syon Park, so I am solo with Madeleine for two hours. We visit Snakes and Ladders, then load up on a bag of self-selecting candy and look at all the Christmas crapolla which is now on sale nearby. A simple holiday wreath goes for £25 while a faux tree billed as "urban chic": £500. Nuts to that, I say.

Madeleine tells me several kids in her class are better in maths. I tell her the only difference between her and them is "studying, which is hard work." She ponders this then: "well, I'm good at sports."

Tamagotchi In The House

Eitan wakes me early: "I am going to buy a Tamagotchi today" he informs me, matter-of-factly. The toy's cost: £13 Stirling, which is within his savings of 25 quid safely tucked away beneath his bed collected from weeks of allowance and minor chores. Madeleine, on the other hand, has been less frugal and she breaks into tears when she learns the Tomagotchi's cost. Her savings is 45 pence, five one dollar bills from a trade with Eitan for pounds, and a few Euro coins. She sobs: "It will take me years and years to save that much!"

Eitan tries to make her feel better: "Madeleine you can watch me get a Tamagotchi at the toy store."
And: "I'll let you play with my Tamagotchi for two hours, if you are nice.."

And what is a Tamagatchi, you may ask? It is, you see, a hand-held digital pet created in 1996 by Aki Maita and sold by Bandai. The Tamagotchi is housed in a small and simple egg-shaped computer (the name comes from "tamago," the Japanese word for "egg," and the English word "watch"). Three buttons allow the user to select and perform an activity, including feeding the Tamagotchi a piece of food or a snack, playing games with the Tamagotchi, cleaning up a Tamagotchi's waste and checking its age, job, hunger, weight, happiness and other useful equally things. Think of it as a sinister device that preys on the mind of the young. Think of it as a child's toke on a Grade A drug. Think of it as a warm up for the Game Boy.

St Pancras

I catch the first commercial train from rebuilt St Pancras station, the London terminus for the Eurostar high-speed train connecting us to Paris and Brussels (as if we care about Brussels). The station is termed the "Cathedral of the railways" and includes two of the most celebrated structures built in Britain from the Victoria era. The main train shed, pictured, was completed in 1868 by the engineer William Barlow and was the largest single-span structure built up to the time. In front of it is St Pancras Chambers, formerly the Midland Grand Hotel (1868–1877), one of the most impressive examples of Victorian gothic (architect: George Gilbert Scott). The station also services East Midlands Trains which take us to Cambridge or north and places otherwise not worth seeing excluding Hadrian's Wall, which is worth seeing. The French Connection now takes two hours flat versus two hours and twenty minutes from Waterloo station (which, I might note, is way more convenient to Richmond). The train house was opened by HRH, The Queen, on 7 November following ten years of build and £8.5 billion or costs - the largest project in Britain, which will be surpassed by our 2012 Olympics (Her Majesty doesn't get out of bed for anything less than £5 billion). And the ride? Smooth, baby -- smooth. That is, until Paris where a strike forces me to wait an hour for a taxi. Leave it to the French to ruin England's special train day.

"Competence is a narrow ideal. Competence makes the trains run on time but doesn't know where they're going."
George Bush, El Presidente

I am late taking Eitan and Madeleine to school:
Madeleine: "Dad, we can be either early, late or on time."
Me: "I think we've covered all the options, no?"
A pause, then Eitan: "Well, we could be super late."

Last night's discussion at grocery store Waitrose regarding Ben & Jerry's Caramel Chew Chew or Fish Food:
Eitan: "Fish Food is my favorite, Madeleine, it has everything in it."
Madeleine: "Have we ever had it, Eitan?"
Eitan: "No. But I just know."
Madeleine: "Well, I want Caramel Chew Chew."
Eitan: "Madeleine! You're just saying that because I want Fish Food!"

Eitan informs me matter-of-factly that I had told him he could have a large bowl Caramel Chew Chew, which is not true. When he starts to whinge, I tell him: "You can have what I give you or nothing. You decide." He ponders this a moment before going for the Chew Chew.

Giant Peach

Madeleine's "James and the Giant Peach" from last year when Sonnet read Eitan and Madeleine Raold Dahl's1967 classic (did you know that because of the book's content it has been the frequent target of censors and appears on the American Library Association list of the 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books of 1990-2000 at fifty six?!). Madeleine's "Portrait Of Peach" has hung on my office wall until this weekend when, out of the blue, she asks for it back. Madeleine draws me a replacement and tells me earnestly: "this one's for you dad - but I want the other one" which I scan for you now, dear reader. It is intriguing what sticks in the kid's minds - for instance Spider Man, who has been out of favor for two years, returned during story time just recently. When asked who Spidey should "do battle with" Madeleine instantly asks for "The Giant Green Cricket" or the "Blind Black Mole"- both characters I made up on the fly. Eitan wants "The Spider Killers" which are three Spider Man destroying robots he imprinted from the television cartoon. Violence is always fun-and-games when a Super Hero (or now a "tactic") is involved.

The kid's morning squabble escalates:
Madeleine: "Well, that is mine, Mister."
Eitan: "Smelly Pants!"
Madeleine: "Poo poo head!"
Eitan: "Ugly bottom!" (which gets a perplexed look from all of us before we crack up)

Meetings all day yesterday in Paris go well, but we shall see by Thursday, fingers crossed. I return again tomorrow and will be the first passenger from Eurostar's new St Pancreas station (build cost: £8B).

Norman Mailer

1923- 2007

"There are two kinds of brave men: those who are brave by the grace of nature, and those who are brave by an act of will."

(photo from the Mailer Family Archive)

Footie

Though the picture is Eitan, Madeleine steals the morning with two goals in her side's 2-1 victory. They were legitimate too - one a powerful strike from the penalty line following a tackle and the other a surprising break-away where she crosses the pitch with her mind determined. She has a vision of the thing before it goes off - boom! - passing freely into the lower right corner of the goal box. Madeleine is chosen "Player Of the Match" and bubbles about how she loves football in the car-ride home. Bravo!

Following football, Eitan and I work in the garden and he is now actually useful instead of a distraction. I tell the boy he should expect to get paid for his work - and we agree to £5, which is equal to one "tactic" action figure. It goes straight into the piggy bank, though Sonnet will take him to the local toy store this afternoon. Speaking of toy stores, Berkeley has Mr. Mops, founded in 1972 and still on Martin Luther King Blvd (formerly Grove Street) near King Junior High - where of course Katie and I went way back when. Somehow Mops has survived the shop-lifting from the after-school teenagers. I recall the place exactly and buying all sorts of cool junk - like the "Space 1999" Eagle 1. Gracie and Moe go there now for their grand-kids. Ah, the Circle Of Life.

I listen to Katie Melua's soulful interpretation of The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" which so perfectly captured college's lost first love. A sample:

"Daylight licked me into shape
I must have been asleep for days
And moving lips to breathe her name
I opened up my eyes
And found myself alone alone
Alone above a raging sea
That stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me."
- From The Cure's "Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me"

Paul

Here's Paul at the Arctic Monkeys (this week we saw the Fray at the Hammersmith Apollo with Tilly and Eric for a Big Tuesday night out). Eitan asks for an Arsenal, Liverpool or a ManU kit for football practice (but not England as "I have two of them" plus, I might add, England will most likely miss the '08 European Cup. It's a wing and a prayer 21 November against Croatia and other stars must align). It's Saturday morning so Sonnet runs and the kids write letters to Auntie Katie, who has laryngitis. Eitan bangs out the NYC address with pride and Madeleine scribbles some letters which make sense to her. Madeleine tells me: "poor Katie- I never knew anybody who got laryngitis." Natasha gives Madeleine a stuffed dog who looks like Disney's "The Shaggy DA" - she names him 'Stella.

The Horror

Well, here's a story. Photo taken at Marcia and Larry's red house in Vermont this summer and found by me as Sonnet and I search for a suitable holiday print. Not so easy a task BTW despite my volume of photos. Unfortunately most of my suitables have an irritating something like a scrap of paper or mis-placed doo-dad. Less than two months and I am feeling under the gun.

I buy a special Hermes "closing tie" for a final-final meeting in Paris Monday with my fund. Sonnet and the kids each touch the cloth to ensure that it is activated. I will catch the Eurostar Sunday afternoon returning in time for dinner Monday. Otherwise, the weekend is filled with the usual sports and run around. Erik, who is back in London, will visit Saturday afternoon for family style.

Big Trees

Here is Wawona, one of the most famous in the Northern California grove not far from the Orenstein family cabin, which Katie is doing a wonderful job managing. This photo is from 1953.

As for the Mighty Tree: sierras are the largest in the world and many redwoods grow to 250 feet or more - the tallest being about 325 feet high. While their height is impressive, the real wonder of a sierra redwood lies in its bulk. Many of these giants have diameters in excess of 30 feet near the ground, with a corresponding circumference of over 94 feet. The largest redwood in our Calaveras Big Trees State Park is the Louis Agassiz tree located in the South Grove. The tree is "only" 250 feet tall, but it is over 25 feet in diameter six feet above the ground. The largest tree in the world BTW is the General Grant tree, located in Sequoia-Kings Canyon National Park It stands 271 feet tall and is 28 feet in diameter at six feet above the ground.

Most trees have their diameter measured at breast height, which is considered to be four and a half feet above the ground on the uphill side of the tree. Sierra redwoods however, are measured at six feet above the ground. This is because of the major increase in circumference at the lower end of the tree. This "butt swell" helps the redwood in a couple ways. It adds stability to the tree, just as a wide stance adds stability to a football player. Also, it helps deflect falling vegetation away from the base of the tree. This decreases the chances of the redwood being injured by fire when that debris eventually burns. It is difficult to imagine the size of a sierra redwood. You often read or hear stories like the fact that a sierra redwood may contain enough wood to build 40 five-room homes; a tree may weigh 4,000 tons; they are as tall as the Statue of Liberty.

Caramel Chew Chew

I awake this morning with Eitan six inches from my face: "You ate the Caramel Chew Chew," he accuses. A bit taken aback, I go into defensive mode. The boy gives me a hard pinch before walking out in a huff. I stumble downstairs to find a freezer note: "No Dads Allowed To Eat The Caramel Chew Chew." For those outside the know, Caramel Chew Chew is a Ben & Jerry's "international flavor" meaning it cannot be bought in the states (I'm not sure if it is being tested, pre-launch, or doesn't match the Walmart palet - whatever). The ingredients, from B&J's website: "swirls of caramel and chocolate-covered caramel chunks swimming in a sea of caramel ice cream." One can see why Eitan is pissed off that I'm eating the stuff after hours. So we compromise: I promise not to pig out in return for morning peace. We stair at each other across a great divide....

Winter?

It is another unusually warm start to the British winter evidenced by the kid's school attire which lacks coats, caps and gloves - sometimes only polo's are seen on the playground. I recall last year's strangeness when the cold temps arrived in January. As a positive consequence, we enjoy a rather lovely autumn as the wet summer and dry late season allow the trees to retain their foliage, which are in colorful repose since the loss of the Northern sunlight. Without the chill air, however, the chlorophyll which gives leaves their green (and vital for photosynthesis) does not break down dramatically resulting in bright reds and hues found in New England - though warmer temps also there are threatening Vermont's tourist season, as reported recently in the NYT. Mostly oblivious to climate change, Madeleine clutches a pumpkin which, in my book, is the friendliest of the gourds. Their color, shape and simple goofiness demands attention - while more practically Sonnet makes pumpkin soup and roasts the seeds in chili oil and sea salt.

Madeleine: "If I were a bird I would fly away to California."

Eitan, very seriously, to Madeleine: "You just don't know how to play with a tactic." (recall, dear reader, that a tactic is a mini action figure anchored to a stand with special powers like moving arms or shooting darts).

Eitan yesterday receives a Participation Certificate for his inter-school football tournament (five boys are picked for play from a larger traveling team). Eitan's side wins 3-nil and 2-nil. While he does not score a goal, he proudly describes several passes and a tackle.

Multi-Tasking Mum

British sport's hero Paula Radcliffe wins the NY Marathon this weekend after two years and a baby in January (photo: sportinglife.com). Radcliffe set the women's standard in the 2003 London Marathon with 2:15:25 - a feat some say will remain on the books for a quarter century and a miracle to watch, as I did. Unfortunately, Radcliffe has under-performed at her Olympics, where she has yet to meddle despite being one of the world's most consistent distance runners and the only credible Western threat to the African nations. Most recently, she failed to complete the Athen's marathon, a race she was heavily favored to win, due to stomach ailments. Consequently, Radcliffe does not get the kudos she deserves in England. The British punter roots passionately for its sports teams, who are perennially the Bad News Bears of world athletics. No sport is more disappointing than our star-studded football squad, who have yet to deliver a World or European Cup since 1964 when we won it all. The Brits, you see, will accept nothing less than a full championship from their athletes - perhaps this is a layover from the Empire, who knows? Rather than celebrate its world-class athletes in running, rowing, ruby, football and etc., the water cooler condemns the same for finishing second (rugby, World Cup this year); fourth (Radcliffe's 10K, '00 Olympics) and the finals (football and cricket, many, many, times). England understands the sympathies of the under-dog, but also wants the glory of victory. She is conflicted, no doubt, but I am used to the sentiment thanks to the Cal Bears which somehow have the same bull-dog determination but just cannot pull out the Big Win when it counts (our loss to Oregon this year, ensuring Cal's first #1 ranking in six decades, was heartbreaking). A collective Heavy Sigh accompanies the anthem: "Just wait 'til next year, Goddamnit!"

Madeleine does a trade with Eitan - her UK pounds for his U.S. dollars. When I ask if she got a good deal, she happily says: "Now I can buy more ice cream!" (Eitan remains perfectly still at the other end of the table)

Madeleine complains of a head-ache, telling Sonnet matter-of-factly that she will stay home from school. I give her a choice: school or home-work with me all day. Her indignant, teary-eyed reply: "Dad, that is so not what I want to do!"

Katy

Here is Katy Janda who I have known since August 28, 1985 - the day I moved into Poland House in the West Quad at Brown University my Freshman year. Katy was a Resident Counselor, a year older and presumably many times wiser - which indeed, has turned out to be the case. Katy majored in English Literature and Engineering - one of five women (if I recall correctly) in an otherwise large program. After Brown, Katy headed for the East Bay where she earned her MS and PhD in Berkeley's Energy Resources Group also serving as an Assistant Professor of Environmental Studies. From there, Oberlin College offered a tenure track but Katy left Ohio for Oxfordshire and Oxford University this summer - happily enough for us. Katy and I compare notes on life in our 40s (egad), family dynamics and, of course, gossip about long lost (and disassociated) Brown alumni. Katy has maintained her integrity pursuing environmental concerns and teaching energy policy to some of America's - and now England's - brightest. Academia may be frustrating and under-paying - but frankly, baby, it is where it all starts if we have any chance of addressing global warming or the energy demands of our future.

Eitan rattles 13 pound coins in his zipped front pocket walking to the toy store to buy "tactics" - plastic action figures each with special "skills" like an arm punch or shooting rocket. The kids trade them on the play ground. I tell Eitan that "money finally has some meaning" as he skips home smiling.

Fawkes

We celebrate the burning of Guy Fawkes last night on the school grounds - bonfire and fireworks, comprehensive. As last year, I'm responsible for the BBQ and Eitan and Madeleine lend a hand setting up the pit. I've pre-ordered 350 sausages and 450 beef burgers, buns, onions and etc. We have two spanking new cookers and I have lassoed five volunteers to help me service our 1500 guests. The evening nets the school around 20 grand and I'm left with a wad of twenties in my back pocket. Afterwards, me and the crew drink Guinness at the local and toast England and the Queen. Cheers!

Joe-Y-H

Joe-Y-H is one of Eitan's fast pals - the boys share a classroom and yoga, among other things. There are three "Joes" in the class each beginning with the same late name initial (go figure) - hence Joe-Y-H. Any case, he is fabulously expressive and this photo is not a one-off. 

Unfortunately I pull an amateur move and let the batteries on my Canon run down so I don't capture the full chaos of the sugar-fueled evening. I apologies to you, my faithful readers (ok- Moe !).

Eitan wakes up today and counts his candy score. We've been through this number before - last year, the boy nailed me red-handed for flagrant candy pinching. 

When I ask Madeleine why Eitan doesn't otherwise enjoy the candy, Madeleine tells me conspiratorially: "He eats it with his friends- when they are not allowed" and more: "he only shares it with the boys!"  She is fascinated by her older brother and clearly.

Hallowe'en

Sonnet organises a Trick-O-Treat at our house and we pick up the kids and their guests for the afternoon. With Martha Stewart as her guide, Sonnet takes the kids through their steps: bobbing for apples, story-telling (me - frightening - ignored), dinner and finally dress up. Parents arrive at 5:30PM and off we go. I learn from Ashling that Hallowe'en was born in Ireland, where the early Celts believed that it is one of the liminal times of the year when spirits can make contact with the physical world, and when magic is most potent (according to, for example, Catalan mythology about witches and Scottish and Irish tales of the Sidhe). The kids could care less about the history of course: it is all about C-A-N-D-Y and who has the MO-OST. The neighborhood is clued into the festivities with lighted pumpkins, cob-web decorations, witches and the like. Some go as far as speaker systems which blast haunting noises (think cackles and so forth). Finally, it is a joy to see the hundreds of kids dragging their parents around including us. It's all over by 8:30PM and Eitan and Madeleine busily count their loot: Eitan scores 52 pieces while Madeleine, mouth full, reports 47.

Yoga This Morning

Madeleine, pictured, during a self-imposed interlude - it doesn't look particularly relaxing, does it? Our morning is filled with Halloween and Sonnet prepares herself for a Martha Stewart styled assault on the pre-Trick 'O Treating party at our place. The kids are allowed three friends each who will join them today post school pick-up to put on their witch-ghost-Spidey outfits (Joe-Y-H confirmed on the playground this morning that blood is allowed in our house). Otherwise we are loaded up on Smarties, Milky-Ways (Eitan's pronounced fave), Twix bars and the like. Our neighborhood is Big on the Night and many houses are decorated Haunted House style. There's a large turnout in past years and we expect the same this evening given the unseasonably mild temps and no rain (thank goodness). In an interesting move, Eitan pulls out his candy stash from last year and notes: "I can eat it now because I will get more tonight." Unfortunately, many of the chocolate bars, and etc, are hard as a brick. We discuss the idea of "having your cake and eating it too" -- Madeleine is focused on the eating.

Flytrap

I snap these happy snap traps at Kew. Did you know tat the Venus Flytrap is a small herb forming a rosette of four to seven leaves, which arise from a short subterranean stem that is actually a bulb-lik rhizome? Each leaf reaches a maximum size of about three to seven centimeters, depending on the time of year; longer leaves with robust traps are generally formed after flowering. Flytraps that appear to have more leaves are generally colonies, formed by rosettes that have divided beneath the ground. We also oggle a 10cm millipede, tree plant and Tanzania scorpion which crawls on the hand, sans stinger. It feels like fifth grade all over again.

A large potential client interested in my French fund decides not to commit. It's a roller-coaster for sure. Locally, there has been a run on Star Wars action figures (recall that the kids barter for the things) and I am left with one choice: Darth Vader! I score the Best Figure Of Them All and Eitan shouts "Hurray!" when I hand him the toy (to balance, I give Madeleine a special writing pen for her Top Secret Diary - she still feels cheated). Both kids now back at school and Eitan over his ear-ache, no problem.

Beautiful Green

Beautiful Sonnet yesterday morning at Kew Gardens. It's a wet day and after a visit to the Princess Diana glass house to see the Lilly pads, poisonous frags and cacti we head home for an afternoon inside as Eitan is feeling under the weather. With us Saturday night is long-time college friend Katy Janda who is now teaching at Oxford - but more on her interesting subject later. Poor Eitan misses Elliot's birthday party which only makes the boy even more miserable. It's a rough life sometimes. Sonnet cheers everybody up with jumbolia and books - currently, she reads the kids the "Narnia" series whose first book - "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe" is most famous. Thanks to British daylight savings, the kids are to bed at 6PM and we not much later.

Henry Moore

Madeleine does her own interpretation of a Moore at Kew Gardens yesterday. She forgives me my photography and in fact, will ham it up on occasion including this image. Eitan, on the other hand, is very serious about my snap shots. He finds it bothersome and worse- embarrassing should other kids be around. Still, I persevere with the knowledge that any proud father does the same. At dinner, we play "faces" and I ask Madeleine to show me her perfectly bored look: she immediately rolls her eyes heavenward presenting an otherwise hung face. Perfect. Eitan practices his grumpy and mean looks - and we all agree, "it's good practice for being a teenager."

Daffy Duck

Daffy first appeared on in "Porky's' Duck Hunt" in 1937. While the cartoon, I read, is a standard hunter/prey kind of thing for which Leon Schlesinger's owner-studio was then famous, Daffy represented something new: an assertive, combative protagonist, completely unrestrainable. Irreverent. As the then short's Director Clampett recalled, "At that time, audiences weren't accustomed to seeing a cartoon character do these things. And so, when it hit the theaters it was an explosion. People would leave the theaters talking about this daffy duck."

The early Daffy is short and pudgy, with stubby legs and beak. The Mel Blanc voice characterization, and the white neck ring contrasting with the black feathers, are about the only aspects of the character that remained consistent through the years.

The origin of Daffy's voice is a matter of some debate. One oft-repeated "official" story is that it was patterned after producer Schlesinger's tendency to lisp. However, in Mel Blanc's autobiography, That's Not All Folks!, he contradicts that conventional belief, writing "It seemed to me that such an extended mandible would hinder his speech, particularly on words containing an s sound. Thus 'despicable' became 'desthpicable'."
Photo, thank you, from Warner Bros.

The Zone

Who would know that the T.V. is turned on? After morning 'tunes, we head for the common and play footie for a couple of hours before returning to London. Eitan has an ear infection from the pool which upsets his afternoon. Sonnet greets us with open arms following two nights apart. What a nice weekend.

Joseph

Here is Joseph pulling his best sword-in-statue (we have just visited the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum). When not portraying a Roman, Joseph helps private equity funds raise money. The Elgin Marbles, BTW, are a collection of marble sculptures that originally decorated the Parthenon and other buildings on the Acropolis of Athens. Thomas Bruce, 7th Earl of Elgin, the British ambassador to the Ottoman Empire from 1799 to 1803, obtained permission from the Ottoman authorities to remove sculptures from the Acropolis. From 1801 to 1812 Elgin's agents removed about half of the surviving sculptures of the Parthenon. The Marbles were transported to Britain, and were purchased by the British Government in 1816 after public debate in Parliament. They were placed on display in the British Museum, where they are now on view in the purpose-built Duveen Gallery. Should they be here or there, one debates.

I give Madeleine our room-key for safe-keeping. She promptly loses it. On the way to the front desk for a duplicate I tell her we may have to sleep in the lobby. She, bug eyed to Eitan: "Is it true?"

Bronze

Here I am the other day at the Greek antiquities inside the British Museum. I report, dear reader, that the BM was established in 1753, opening with the collection donated mostly by Sir Hans Sloane (yes, of Sloane Square, South Kensington) in Montague House in Bloomsbury. The collection today numbers more than 13 million objects of which less than 2% are on display at any given time. In the archives are wall paintings from Central Asia's' Caves of Bezeklik, which Sonnet and I visited in 1997. The cave retreats were once inhabited by Buddhist monks near the Turpan Peninsula in the Taklamakan desert (translation: "those who enter do not come out)" and remain a testimony to the heyday of Chinese Buddhism. The caves were hidden for hundreds of years buried in sand or riverside cliffs. Upon their discovery in the 1920s by British explorer Sir John Younghusband, portions were carved out and delivered to London in straw and rope, leaving gaping holes where once there were horse-heads, weapons and painted men. In London I contacted the Curator of Central Asia to see what I missed, but never did she return my communication.

Earth Audit

1,400 scientist submit their report to the United Nations today, concluding our planet is in peril. According to them, thirty percent of amphibians, 23 percent of mammals and 12% of birds are under threat. The report was drafted and researched by almost 400 scientists, all experts in their field, whose findings were reviewed by another 1,000 of their peers. Findings show that the world's population has grown by 34% to 6.7B in 20 years; 73,000 hectares is lost annually (3.5X the size of Wales) and 60% of the world's major rivers have been dammed or diverted. Ten million children under age 10 die each year and more than half of all cities exceed WHO pollution guidelines. Photo from AirFlow.

Bucks

Chipping Marlow in Buckinghamshire - the town name is Anglo Saxon in origin, and means 'land remaining after the draining of a pool'. In the Doomsday Book in 1086 it was recorded as Merlaue, though previously it was known as Merelafan. Otherwise, Marlow has been an important town for many years. This is because of its location on the River Thames. It has had its own market charter since 1324 at the latest but ownership of the charter has been lost and no market has been held since at least 1940. As early as 1299 the town had its own Member of Parliament As for the pictured bridge, it has been there since the reign of King Edward III. The current bridge is a suspension bridge, designed by William Tierney Clark in 1832, and was a prototype for the nearly identical but larger Szecheni Chain Bridge across the Danube in Budapest. Cool.

Marlow

Rest assured, dear reader, that we are up at 0600 for a swim (last night, following two movies and dinner on the bed, we are asleep at 8PM. I can't remember the last time I've done that). After the pool and breakfast we head for the Marlow town center and find a fabulous, well-populated playground where the kids let lose. I chase them around their pretend space ships pretending to be an evil invader. Other kids join in and soon its a free-for-all and I am somehow happily in the center. This beats swimming laps any day. From there we go to lunch with a stop at the book shop where Madeleine pleads for a "secret journal." I give in telling the elderly cashier "It's a game of endurance and today they have won." She accepts this with a smile. At lunch, Eitan writes "Top Secret" and "Confidential" in his notebook while Madeleine scribbles her name and today's date.