Taxpayer In The Middle

Katie sends me this chestnut, from her Blackberry, somewhere in Manhattan. Oh dear.

Of course baby-boomers are big investors in shares. According to the Federal Reserve, the average 50-year old has $174,000 in IRA or 401K retirement plans. But that is skewed by the mega-rich - the median is more like $60,000. This only tells a part of the story though: in fact, the Fed likes to measure "comprehensive wealth" which includes present values of salaries, pension funds, social security insurance, welfare benefits and so on. Houses and cars are thrown into the bucket. By this measure, the wealth of the average 50-year old is $900,000, of which only a quarter has anything to do with financial assets; worryingly, however, almost half of the rest comes from property and wages. The first keeps falling, and the other requires years of work.

"Whoever wins this election, Bush's impact has changed the world. This man has left us with three wars — in Iraq, Afghanistan and the war on terror — and the legacy of the pre-emptive strike. These are legacies that will haunt his successor for years. It's good for people, before the election, to think about who they elected eight years ago and about where we are as a country right now."
Oliver Stone, promoting his film "W."

Atlantis Dubai

Now here is a piece of shit if I have ever seen one. The Atlantis announces in the Sunday Times "Now Open" and I wonder: who on earth would want to go there? The hotel, designed from Atlantis in the Bahamas, connects to the the environmentally unfriendly Palm Jumeirah which, of course, is in the shape of a giant palm tree consisting of a crown with 17 fronds and a surrounding crescent island that forms an 11 kilometres long breakwater. The island is 5KM by 5KM and its total area is larger than 800 football pitches. The crown is connected to the mainland by a 300-metre bridge and the crescent is connected to the top of the palm by a subsea tunnel. Units began selling in a frenzy in 2004/05 to intelligent investors like Elton John and David Beckham, who own plots then-valued at over $30 million. Now there was a sure sign to run for the hills. Anyways, if the gaudiness of the thing doesn't do it in than the global economy will: oil, Dear Arab, is once again below $90 a barrel.

"Nothing concentrates the mind like a good hanging."
Samual Johnson

Ruby Red

Eitan is reading lengthy books, as he does here, while Madeleine shows us her ruby ring purchased the other day at the toy shop. We have their parents-teachers meeting this afternoon and will get some feedback on the Shakespeares progress into the new academic year. Eitan, we know, remains scared of his new authoritarian teacher Mrs. Cory ("you may only interrupt me in the event of fire, blood or vomit"). We like her. Otherwise it is Monday as usual, accepting the nationalisation of Britain's iconic banks HBOS, Royal Bank of Scotland and Lloyds TSB who have been bailed for £37 billion. Their share prices now in the pence. I own 'em.

Top-Ten reasons to trust the British bail-out:
1. Gordon Brown cracking jokes for the first time in his Prime Ministry
2. World's fourth biggest economy responding like a cutter
3. Sarkozy and Super Gee like each other: both dour pragmatists though the French distracted by Carla and who wouldn't be?
4. Battle scarred nation best when the chips are down
5. English football #1 in Group 6 : 5-1 trouncing of hapless Kazakhstan a moral booster we can take to the bank
6. New water pipes! London replacing the Victorian system all at once deconstipating the nation
7. £450 billion shot in the arm - who needs the jab?
8. David Cameron and the opposition party on board: "this a time for the British people and our government to come together"
9. Oxford and Cambridge
10. What, me worry?

"We must, in an uncertain and unstable world, be the rock of stability on which the British people can depend."
Gordon Brown

Titanic

Hedge funds, who can borrow to "short" stocks and again leverage themselves further, will be the next shock (most have three to 12 month "lock ups" on investor withdrawal allowing a delay to now's market). These "liquid" vehicles have been forced to sell aggressively driving the collapse in equities; further revealing, the stocks where hedge funds hold the largest stakes massively under-perform the wider market: the 50 stocks where hedge funds are most exposed, for instance, slumped 19% in September while the S&P 500 fell 9%. Hedge managers are today forced to liquidate hundreds of billions of positions as thousands of investors, particularly high-wealth individuals, redeem together in fear. The effect intensified by the ongoing withdrawal of credit by prime brokers, further forcing funds to cut positions. Funds-of-hedge funds, who pool capital for the industry, are also a problem thanks to their own leverage which juices returns on the up. Such gearing means that halving the hedge fund industry to $1 trillion will net larger asset sales still. The party continues.

photo from British Film Institute

"Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets."
Arthur Miller

"Ever noticed that 'what the hell' is always the right decision?"
Marilyn Monroe in the Daily Telegraph

Indian Summer

Season's change is upon us; photograph on the toe-path in Richmond.

Given Friday's misery, Europeans are whispering "what next?" should a unified bail-out not pull things forward. Gordon Brown and G7 meet in Paris today to hammer out a solution while Super Gee's rescue scrutinised as the Bush-Paulson plan has so far netted zero while in fact wasting critical weeks. The depth of this thing depends on a global, unified government action which, fortunately, seems to be happening following a rocky beginning (Europe initially watched America with mouth wide open: couldn't happen here, dog gonnit). This is probably how Berlin felt in the fading days of the 1930s... in '39 many Germans went to the forest to enjoy an unusually warm "Indian summer" with no idea what their autumn would bring... or if they did, not wishing to acknowledge it. Of course the Nazis invaded Poland that September.

England is finally coming down hard on the drinks industry, announcing there will shortly be a ban on free drinks for women and other bar give-aways; elimination of price-reductions or freebies at "happy hour;" and aggressive on-site advertising including, perhaps, notifications on every restaurant table regarding the menace of "over indulging". I often, in fact about every week end at the pool or football pitch, hear some dad sheepishly say "I had a bit of a late night of it." This could be England's moto given the extreme levels of intoxication and especially with da yuf who indulge and fornicate like nobody's busines. One might think that the neighborhood dads might be a tad more responsible but no way. In the conspiratorial huddle they smirk: "can't let life get in the way of beer." The financial crisis only gives license to drink more, and indeed super market Waitrosse reports a 15% increase in wine sales (interestingly champagne up too by 13% - maybe the poorer classes Shadenfraud?). Anyways, the social costs of alcohol in this country runs to the billions of Stirling per annum. The idea of a drinking-caf society with 24-hour licenses now completely debunked. All one has to do is enter any central town, post-midnight, to see the wastage.

Driving by an old cemetary:-
Me to Madeleine: "What do you want on your gravestone?"
Madeleine: "Dad, I don't even want to think about it."

Me to Eitan: "And you?"
Eitan: "Here lies Eitan. He lived at Old Trafford" (Old Trafford being Manchester United's stadium)

Pandemonium

It is a beautiful day which makes football this morning a pleasure. The kids descend on the park with joy in their hearts, and mine too: I kick the ball around with Eitan, Bertie and other kids before their session which follows Madeleine. I chat up the other dads, who are mostly pre-occupied with the financial mess but what me worry? At the Richmond Bridge we seat ourselves on the embankment and people-watch (me, really) while the kiddos collect polished glass. Meanwhile beforehand, we visit Pandemonium which is our local toy store similar to Mr Mopps in Berkeley. Eitan has 5X ten-pound vouchers+his allowance which is a fortune for him. He is giddy with excitement, and chooses a Ferrari GT-Active race-car set complete with track and slot cars. Ah, yes - every boy's dream-come-true. I had mine in '78 when we bought a used set in Carmel Valley at a yard-sale. Grace made a felt-covered platform and I spent hours racing various Hot Wheels, oh yea (30 years later: thank you mom!). I get excited just thinking about it. In the end and after the eventual 11-year old's boredom settled in, I made Evil Knievel ramps over fire burning, oil filled pans and jumped the cars over the flame. Not sure where my parents were when doing this. Madeleine has her own money to spend or about ten quid, which goes to "crazy bones" and a red-ruby ring. Everybody happy though of course Madeleine a tad jealous of her older brother. Same as it ever was.

At the Richmond Green I watch a group of teen-agers similar to Paris. I don't think they can be much older than 15 but they are clearly in their own world and the boys are comfortable with the girls and vice-versa. They lie on top of each other, literally. The boys sport a mussy-hair style with stripy sweaters and tight, low hung trousers while the chicas wear black-tights under short-shorts- provocative comes to mind. I missed these exciting times due to swimming but hey, I am not complaining (I think). Eitan decides to run around the green which is perhaps half-mile circumference and does so eight times. He is motivated. Madeleine and I watch together she sitting in my lap as the sun begins to set towards the river. Magic.

"Feast your eyes on this!"
Eitan regarding his new race track

Shop

While Sonnet at the hair-salon I take the kids to Richmond Green - here we are shopping at Uni Qlo which BTW is Japan's number one clothing retailer in sales and profits. It offers trippy Nippy styles and not particularly expensive - it prices itself below the Gap which means the clothes are mostly throw-away but this a reason I like it. Eitan and Madeleine run around the store hiding: each time I turn an isle one of them "rears his head" then darts between a clothes rack or something else. I ignore them and get funny looks from customers which suggest "take care of your kids" but hey, I am beyond that - the monsters are not upsetting anything so let them have their fun. For the record, I buy a blue zip-hoodie just like in seventh grade; I also purchase a hot pink v-neck which may (or not) make the rotation.

Eitan and I watch England v. Kazakhstan at Wembley Stadium. When Eitan hears Wembley he growns: "they lack confidence there" and indeed the game gets off to a poor start- nil to nil at the half even though England heavily favored. Rooney finally breaks the stalemate seven minutes in the second and England goes on to win 5-1, thank goodness. Kazak plays 17 new guys called up from their under 21s, so us fans are rather non-plused by the outcome. An announcer notes: "it is not always easy rooting for England; indeed sometimes it needs a considerable amount off patience." Amen.

"As Putin rears his head and comes into the air space of the United States of America, where do they go? It's Alaska. It's just right over the border. It is from Alaska that we send those out to make sure that an eye is being kept on this very powerful nation, Russia, because they are right next to, they are right next to our state."
Sarah Palin on Foreign Affairs, spoken to Katie Couric

Palin - Some Maverik

Well the Troopergate Report is in and given the haliba-hoo I thought it would be more severe. The Republican Party's efforts to block the result until after the election childish.

Here is the LAT:

"...investigator Stephen Branchflower documented that former Public Safety Commissioner Walt Monegan was subjected to a veritable barrage of demands from Palin, her husband and her staff to fire the trooper, Mike Wooten, whom they saw as unfit for the job. Wooten had been involved in a bitter divorce and custody battle with Palin's sister. The report found that his refusal to fire the trooper was "likely a contributing factor" in Monegan's termination in July, but it also concluded that the governor's decision was "a proper and lawful exercise of her constitutional and statutory authority" to hire and fire department heads. "

McC's vetting team gets an A+++ you betcha. My English friend Justin says "Democrats do love their culture war too... "

Photo-shopped image from the WWW (Palin will appear on the cover of Vogue before November). As Halley says - "she's juicy."

"Such impermissible and repeated contacts create conflicts of interests for subordinate employees who must choose to either please a superior or run the risk of facing that superior's displeasure and the possible consequences of that displeasure."
Alaskan Ethics Committee

80s

Madeleine over breakfast with Doggie and Kumon; picture from Christian.

My receptionist tells me she is going to a "jumble sale" which, I learn, is a flea-market (I think). She says sellers "chuck everything into the middle" while buyers buy it. This different from a "boot sale" where vendors arrive at some pre-arranged field in the middle of no where and sell their crapola from the car-trunk. Ghastly. In high school and college I shopped the second-hand for vintage - a favorite being Aardvark's on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley. This was was pre-Gap and the street decidedly grungy. Aardvark's was the best place around to buy Hawaiian shirts and worked-over blue jeans. The trick was to find a nearly bleached washed pair with another few washes to go - not easy, Dear Sister. Not easy. I also trolled around for wing tips or funky jackets to cultivate my strange college style. Yes, it was unique - 80s hair (long on top, razor short on the sides), Funk Night and everything all that. Sonnet BTW prepares for her next exhibition at the V&A which will be on... 80s fashion, so maybe I can help her out, oh brother.

"Were no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do i
A full commitments what Im thinking of
You wouldnt get this from any other guy

"I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand

Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you"

"Never Gonna Give You Up", Rick Asterly - best-selling single of 1987

Sia

We see Sia last night at the Shepards Bush Empire, which launched The Who. We are joined by Tilly and Eric, who is an economics advisor to Barak Obama; Jennifer and Ramsey, who invested for the Prince Al Walid; and Erik. Sia Furlow is from Australia and while there made several acid-jazz records but did not reach commercial success until her move to the UK and kick-starting a solo career. She signed with Sony Music in 2000 and away we go. I first became aware of her via Showtime's "Six Feet Under" where her song "Breathe Me" concluded the series in a haunting life's fast-forward. I'm also in tune with Zero 7 (thank you Christian) where she has been the lead vocals. So, her voice: powerful, rich synthetic, which contrasts with her bubbly, girlish stage presence. The audience in rapture generally and turned out: the show sold-out and a good vibe surrounds us.

"Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
and needy
Warm me up
And breathe me"

Sia, Breath Me

Photo from Sia website

Gulp

“Not only have individual financial institutions become less vulnerable to shocks from underlying risk factors, but also the financial system as a whole has become more resilient.”
2004

Photo from The Observor

Rainbow

Here is Madeleine from the week-end. She tells my Grandma Silver "would like this feather" and I promise to mail it for her (Silver: I think it has now gone missing)

Madeleine reads me a story about a bunch of kids who play with a "rainbow machine" while the "rainbow makers" having lunch at the local caf. Accordingly, a rainbow turned into various geometric shapes, like a zig-zag, before the whole thing goes pair-shaped and the kids turn the sky red. The adults return to save the day, first bleaching the sky then coloring it blue (the bleaching bit is like most days in the UK BTW). Madeleine's reading comes along fine while I know it is hard work : she would rather play imagination with her ever growing family of "buddies" (stuffed animals). This morning I leave her a bed-side note stating: "good job with your words."

Madeleine: "How are rainbows made Dad?"
Me: "Rainbows happen when sunshine reflects from the rain droplets."
Madeleine: "Thanks Dad, but I don't really care now."

"An Extraordinary Day"

This how the BBC began the evening news, then straight to Gordon Brown's recorded comments from earlier today. In 12 years in England I have never heard anything even quite similar.

There are three main elements to the government’s package. First, the Treasury has made up to £50 billion available to banks as injections of state money to raise their “tier-one” capital, the bedrock support for banking business. Eight large lenders—Abbey, Barclays, HBOS, HSBC, Lloyds TSB, Nationwide Building Society, RBS and Standard Chartered—have said that they will together increase their tier-one capital by £25 billion by the end of the year. A further £25 billion is available for all institutions, which include British subsidiaries of foreign banks. In return, the Treasury will take interest-paying but non-voting preference shares (or permanent interest-bearing shares for building societies) in the institutions.

Second, the government is doubling the amount of money available to banks through the Bank of England’s “special liquidity scheme”. This facility, which started in April, allows banks to swap illiquid mortgage-backed securities for Treasury bills, which can be readily cashed, for up to three years. Alistair Darling, the chancellor of the exchequer, indicated last month that £100 billion had been made available; now he has raised that amount to £200 billion.

Third, the Treasury will provide guarantees for new short- and medium-term debt issued by banks for periods of up to three years. It expects the take-up of this guarantee to be around £250 billion.

This adds up to over £400 billion or bigger than the US plan passed by Congress last Friday. One cannot question the ambition of it all.

"Extraordinary times call for the bold and far-reaching solutions."
Gordon Brown

The Fun Continues

Sonnet in Paris.

After dropping the kids at yoga and going for a power-walk in Richmond Park, I brace myself for Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling who describe Britain's banking bail-out. I watch them on TV and I must say that while I have been critical of Super Gee, he has the facts cold. Chancellor Darling, too, is cool-hand Luke and his unwavering eye instills confidence. Cameron would be a disaster. Their press announcement this moring follows the financial sector's sharp stock-market decline and fear of a "cataclysmic failure." As I understand it, us taxpayers will take a stake in banks seeking assistance through the purchase of their preference shares which, Gordon Brown says, could mean Joe Six Pack might make a profit eventually. You betcha. Holders of preference shares, Dear Mother, are the first in line for the payout of dividends but they do not carry voting rights nor enjoy Board representation - a huge flaw, in my opinion, given that we now own these jokers. I want to make sure my money is appropriately utilised and not going to fat-cat salaries nor 5-star spas (hello, AIG - you boneheads). The bailout is expected to be structured so that the Government receives rights to ordinary bank shares at low prices, holding out the prospect of profits if and when banks recover. Chancellor Darling also announced help from the Bank of England to ensure that the banks have enough cash to run their day-to-day activities. Thank goodness for all that.

The difference between the US and the UK bailout BTW is where the cash goes: in the states, an RTC equivalent to be formed to buy so-called "toxic assets" which presumably can be resold should there ever be value. Banks or anybody can unload its wastage and, we hope, strengthen their balance-shit with one enormous flush. In Britain, we give the same banks direct liquidity to sort out their own mess; in return we own 'em.

Well... Yes, And Here We Go Again*

There are two ways to view yesterday's financial meltdown: (1) this is simply a large correction in a normal bear market; or (2) a fundamental change in our financial system. If you believe the first, investors prepared to buy and hold for the long-term will enjoy significant returns. Global de-leveraging is only just beginning, banks are crashing but governments see the world on edge and will work to pull it back somehow. If the second, however, then we are headed into a near-unstoppable deflationary bust, similar to Japan in the '90s. If so, then earnings forecasts are not worth their paper. That is why equities and corporate bonds cannot find a floor, commodity prices are in free-fall, and ultra-safe government bonds, especially at the short-end, are so expensive.

During the past two weeks, equity markets have suffered some of their largest falls ever, including '87 and the Great Depression. What is certain is that there will soon be a tremendous rally - just as there was during the Great Depression. The 1930s saw nine of the 10 best days for US stocks ever recorded. None of those rallies, however, was sustained.

I love the Fleet Street photograph of a stressed-out Wall Street trader screaming (or crying) into his head-set staring, presumably, at the Big Board. This as dated as a toaster at the bank: securities trade electronically, no longer requiring a physical presence.

"Buy the rumours, sell the facts"
source? Wall Street mantra

* Hunter S Thompson, "The Great Shark Hunt"

Empty warehouse image from richstone.org

Where Have Our Heroes Gone?

I catch Eitan watching the BBC and ask him if he understands the news (I keep it pretty general). He shrugs and gives me a blank-stare: this the last thing he needs to think about, his eyes tell me. I pat him on the shoulder and he bounces off to tap-tap-tap his football (nearby Madeleine's ears pricked BTW - she senses that her brother's 16-month age-advantage gives him access to the adult world somehow). I remember when Moe left his law-partnership to form another in the early '80s. He told me about the change on a Sunday afternoon while I read comic books on my bed. My reaction: why are you bothering me with this stuff? Moe eventually built one of the largest labour-law practices in California but the transition must have been stressful. On my side, I simply never worried about the foundation: as far as I was concerned, life was pretty damn hard with 6AM swim-practice and book reports. I knew my dad was a winner and that my parents loved each other; I never doubted my allowance. Sure, I was disappointed when we moved to the Berkeley hills because I couldn't have a basketball net over the garage but hey, those were the breaks. I wonder how many similar hard-working families will suffer the times we are in?

McC yesterday: "I didn't just show up out of nowhere. After all, America knows me; you know my strengths and my faults; you know my story and my convictions." (pssst: k-e-a-t-i-n-g 5)
-> Too bad it is Sarah Palin running for President.

Richmond

Eitan returns from his movie-date Sunday afternoon and the kids promptly watch... a movie. Yes, Dad's oversight continues until tomorrow. Madeleine picks "Snow Dogs" which is so horrible I bail after 15 minutes. The Disney film low on budgets so the dogs receive a voice-over while doing all sorts of cute things like eating ice cream, pulling a dog-sled and talking in afro-slang: "yo dog, wuz up?" Ghastly. Afterwards I drag the Shakespeares kicking and screaming to Richmond Park for some exercise - we are blessed to have London's largest park on our door-step. It is well-used but not crowded and perfect for a picnic or a stroll, even with today's overcast cold weather (Madeleine naturally refuses a jacket and ends up wearing mine). Strangely the park is covered with ferns, which I associate with more tropical climes. The cold weather means they are dying off for the season, along with the various tall grasses and leaves presenting us with... New England. I betcha the Pioneers thought the same thing. Eitan uses his binoculars to spot dogs and deer - an ancient buck lets out a primeval roar which stops everybody cold. It is spooky bouncing off the hills and the kids encourage me to hurry back to the car.

Purple Rain

Eitan is at the movies with his pals Joe-Y-H and Sirus leaving me a special day with Madeleine (Sonnet returns tomorrow). The weather is Cat-In-The-Hat yet we make a go of it at McDonald's, the #1 choice for lunch, where she orders a Happy Meal with "chicken" nuggets and a cheese-burger on the side. I have fruit beforehand but otherwise take a pass at the restaurant - it really says something, boy, when you won't eat the food served to your kid. Over lunch, I determine Madeleine's state of mind asking about any worries. She replies "[I worry] about the dogs in the pound; about running out of gas; about Eitan getting lost; and how animals get treated."

I probe further noting "that any problem has a solution if we talk about it" but she shakes her head: "Not everything dad: flying. And flowers can't walk. Babies can't talk when they are first born. Candles cannot light themselves" and I must admit she presents several points. I wrap up asking if she could do anything, what would it be? "If you put me in the wild, with anything I could do, the first thing is I would get a pup."

Madeleine walks about with a stiff leg due to her injury yesterday. This gets lots of strange looks on the high street as she hobbles along. Most of the looks are towards me BTW and I tell Madeleine to stop. She's no dummy: "will you get me something if I do?" she asks.

Can there be any doubt that Sarah Palin wants to be President? This hussy is already maneuvering, comparing her VP to Truman who became the boss when his boss died. How unpleasant to see naked ambition especially when it effects ME and my KIDS. Frank Rich offers another excellent piece in today's NYT; Rich has been consistently on-the-money starting 18 months ago when he was the first pundit to see Obama.

Ray Guy

I sit here listening to the Bears play Arizona State (17-7 in the opening second half). The game at Memorial Stadium and kick-off 12:30PM Pacific offering a late night but doable, most definately. Thinking about football, nobody comps the Oakland Raiders in the 1970s before free-agency and team moves ended my compulsion. Back then the Raiders were the real-deal - coached by a big fat guy who gesticulated madly from the sideline and a bunch of motley players who drank and smoked, often during a game (wide receiver and SB MVP Fred Biletnikoff traded the oxygen tank and fags between plays). I had a number of heroes then - Ken Stable, Mark Van Egan, Cliff Branch, Dave Casper and Ray Guy, pictured. In '73 Guy was the first punter chosen in the first-round, which has never happened again since. He played in 207 consecutive games averaging 42.4 yards a punt: none returned for a touchdown - ever. Guy was selected to seven Pro Bowl teams, and in 1994, he was named the punter on the National Football League's 75th Anniversary Team. His leg-power was legendary - at the '76 Pro Bowl, he hit the Louisiana Superdome video screen which was then raised from 90 feet to 200 feet. Guy also had an awesome arm and a rumour at Washington primary was that he could throw 75 yards with his feet planted. Yes, we adored him as only a kid can do. The Silver and Black - that was a team, man.

“This is not a man [Barak Obama] who sees America as you see it and how I see America. We see America as the greatest force for good in this world. If we can be that beacon of light and hope for others who seek freedom and democracy and can live in a country that would allow intolerance in the equal rights that again our military men and women fight for and die for for all of us. Our opponent though, is someone who sees America it seems as being so imperfect that he’s palling around with terrorists who would target their own country?”

The nim-wit Sarah Palin speaks up in Colorado

Cal beats Arizona St BTW 24-14. I'm going to bed.

Blood Red

Nanny calls in sick yesterday so I pick up the kids from school and eventually take Eitan to swim team at St Paul's. Madeleine and I go for an autumnal walk by the Thames nearby the Hammersmith Bridge ("no dad!"). As the tide is in, the river something to behold. She and I get a treat at a nearby cafe and I do my best to entertain her but sometimes I fail; she is in a reflective mood and craddles her head in her arms. From there - we pick up the boy and get pizza and finally bed around 9PM.

This morning begins with Madeleine swimming at the Bank of England club; while she swims Eitan and I footie so I get some excercise. Then two more hours of football and I watch shivering. Madeleine slips on cement thanks to her cleats and tears roll, oh boy. She finds a walking stick which she dramatically uses to get around the house: "thank goodness I have my stick" she adds. Both now watch a vid of the winter play and giggle at themselves and their friends. Madeleine has requested a visit to the toy store to chose her Halloween costume while Eitan contemplates fake-blood: "I'm gonna get some."

"I'm so bored I can't even move . . . "
Madeleine

tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap... (Eitan kicks the ball inside the house) tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap . .. .

The Cap'n

In St John's Wood I have an inspired moment: I visit the grocery on Princess Rd famous for selling American goods like Nestle chocolate chips, Paul Newman's Own and sugar cereal - all the classics, too. Growing up, there was a no-sugar-cereal rule which was occasionally broken on holiday when we got the "gift pack" of six or eight small, diner-size boxes. Otherwise Katie and I longingly walked the grocery isle touching "Lucky Charms," "Count Chocula" and "Boo-Berry" and of course "Cap'n Crunch" which in my humble opinion is simply the all time best. So, seeing how Sonnet away this week end, I bring home a box of The Cap'n and Fruit Loops which gets a shocked surprise from Madeleine: "Is that for us, Dad? Is it really? Really?" Madeleine of course wants three-bowls at once (I limit to one and only at breakfast) while Eitan wants to spread out the pleasure in routine: "Can we eat it Tuesdays and Thursdays?" he asks. I don't really care how they eat their "suga" cereal as long as they also eat it with fruit. Dad is on patrol.

Wandsworth Town

The US Embassy will move to... Wandsworth?! The Americans have been on 1 Grosvenor Square in Mayfair since 1938 when the embassy moved from Piccadilly to accommodate General Eisenhower and the wartime administration; it was also the European headquarters of the US Navy. Following WWII, the Duke of Westminster donated the land for a memorial to wartime FDR. So the current U.S. Embassy building was constructed in the late 1950s, opening in 1960; it was designed by Finnish American architect Eero Saarinen with a large gilded aluminium Bald Eagle with a wingspan of over 11 metres on the roof. Not Eero's finest hour I should say. The concrete block is an eyesore in Mayfair and stands out like sore thumb. The grey cement molds in the winter and in contrast to the charming red-stones that surround her. It is also difficult to protect so make-shift cement blocks prevent suicide bombers from their insanity. On the flip-side, it is a power-building, bold and confident: "don't mess with America" she says. And now to the Thames Southside in a most assuredly non-glamorous London neighborhood. Yet another knock, Dear Sister. Another knock. What a moment to make such an announcement. (photo from the American Embassy website)

In some cheering news, Hummer sales are down 54.8% from last year, marking the sixth straight month of at least 50% sales volume declines at the hulking-stupid-gas-guzzler maker. Good riddance dude.

Annie Hall

Here's my sceptical look as I listen to the Biden-Palin debate on the internets. Thank goodness Palin does not look like a deer-in-headlights and we are listening to a debate and not squirming in our seats. Palin's confidence projects, unlike with Katie Couric, and she sure does use a lot of vernacular: heck-of, get'n down to get'n things done, you betcha and darn toot'n. I suppose Joe Six Pack, whomever he may be, understands it. It reminds me of Annie Hall who you may recall dressed, spoke and looked like a small-town kinda gal. Over the course of Woody Allen's Oscar winning film Annie grows up: she takes night-classes, enters therapy to understand herself, becomes a singer and she improves. I wouldn't want the youthful Annie Hall as VP but I would consider her reincarnation - thoughtful, intelligent and in tune with her feelings and surroundings. In short, Hillary. Or Biden.

Biden did seem presidential thoughtful and poised. His answers reasoned with no famous gaffes, like asking a handicapped dude to "stand up" or when telling a gun owner "your crazy" (the fella did have a semi-automatic on display at a rally).

This idea that McC is somehow a maverick is silly: Senator McC has voted along party lines and on the inside for, like, EVER. He also championed deregulation even after being a part of the Keating Five which should have killed his political career. Oh well. Further, do we really need a marerick in the White House (Webster definition: "an independent individual who does not go along with a group or party"). Personally, I want somebody who can work with his government and accomplish a few goals, returning our country to before - let's say the Bush Sr or Clinton era - not far ago, Dear Reader. Well, fat chance to repair the broken plates for us but at least we can prepare for our children. Or grand-children.

On the school-drop, two mums sympathised with my situation being an American and all. The general feeling on the ground and in the media is that the United States is quickly becoming second or even third-tier.

Katie in Paris

Katie over oysters, Tuesday, in Paris. Katie is a special gal and her women's Op-Ed foundation has taken off - she is excited, boy.

My favorite things about Paris:
1. Seasonal change. Spring or fall, this is the only place to be. Paris does not have the greenery of London yet seeing the trees and parks blossom or die-off while fashions change gives me the sense of moving on. This time of year unsettling yet I love the feeling.
2. Food. Of course. It is impossible to have a bad meal and children not invited. Paris takes its gustacian seriously.
3. Eurostar from London. Unfortunately the London terminus moved from Waterloo to St Pancras this year making the train less convenient to Southwest London. Oh well. Arriving at du Nord always thrilling+Terminus restaurant a favorite, similar to the Grand Central Station Oyster Bar in NY. I have the same thing every time: smoked fish+onion soup or oysters.
4. rue Faubourg Saint-Honoree. This is where Astorg is located and nearby l'Église de la Madeleine and Place de la Concorde. I have a favorite hotel, Le Faubourg, which is not ostentatious and perfectly located in the 8th next to the Crillon. This is where Sarkozy and Carla Bruni live in the Presidential Palace next to the British Embassy. The shops are chic and outside my league except Hermès where I buy my ties.
5. Le Dome in Montparnasse - and not because it is one of the best seafood restaurants in Paris, which it is. Rather - Sonnet, Christian and I had dinner during Blake's wedding in '00 (Sonnet six months pregnant) and I looked over my shoulder to see Alan Greenspan no more than six inches from my nose. He was huddled outside, on his mobile, opposite the window. Since it was Sunday evening presumably he was dialing in an interest-rate change - and indeed, rates came down a quarter-point the next day. At Greenspan's table was Felix Rohatyn (US Ambassador to France and Chairman of Lehman Bros. RIP)+Arthur Schlesinger Jr (RIP)+their wives in cool glasses and B-52 hairstyles.
6. Hôtel Costes, which has the best martini in Paris and the highest concentration of beautiful people anywhere.
7. Astorg Partners and Rothschild, who have given me a reason, as though I needed one, to visit frequently since '03.
8. French. OK, my language often fails me but I make the effort and the Parisians (most of them anyway) appreciate my efforts. My problem, you see, is my accent which is pretty good and sets an expectation for competency. I still struggle with vocabulary and verb-tenses, oh well. But at least I am unafraid which is half the battle.
9. Lacoste. As a rule I buy three new alligators a year in spring. It adds colour and what could be more cool for a middle-aged dad?

Our Lady

I face la Cité from the Right Bank and take this grainy photo with my mobile. My first visit to Notre Dame was in '82 with my family - we were visiting Aunt Marcia and Larry, who was on a fat ex-pat package with Citi back in the day when a foreign assignment really meant something. Marcia gave up a lot to go too - she was the first mayor of Bronxville. Also with us was my grandmother Dorothy and I have a funny photo of us somewhere on la plaza. I was in ninth grade or 15 years-old. The trip planted an idea to spend a year abroad, which I did my Junior year of high-school in Geneva. Also that year the Italians won the World Cup and I recall their celebrations up and down the Champs-Élysées and everywhere. They beat Brazil of course. Notre Dame was recently cleaned up following a ten-year restoration that completed in 2002. Amongst many things, it removed a century of city grime and restored the original cathedral stone.

There are five bells at Notre Dame. The great bourdon bell, Emmanuel, is located in the South Tower, weighs just over 13 tons, and is tolled to mark the hours of the day and for various occasions and services. There are four additional bells on wheels in the North Tower, which are swing chimed. These bells are rung for various services and festivals. The bells were once rung manually, but are currently rung by electric motors. The bells also have external hammers for tune playing from a small clavier.

"When good Americans die they go to Paris."
Oscar Wilde

Ya Man

This photo at Terminal 5 is the new ad campaign by Vodafone. Does anybody else find it offensive?

Sonnet leaves for New York where she will spend the week end at Catherine's baby shower (a surprise) and will see will Rana, Katie and Aunte Marcia. I am solo with the Shakespeares, who simply sob at the prospect of me walking them to school (Eitan accuses that "you are never any fun"). Madeleine needs her mum particularly in the morning and today she walks into the dining room with Doggie and becomes tearful when she learns Sonnet jogging. I have to miss the tail-end of the drams as Christian's town-car late and I have to race him to the airport. I return sadly to an empty house. Still, I look forward to the full-on attention of being a single-care provider for a few days. Last night I asked Madeleine if she wanted to go to a bar (her reply: "no silly"). If anything like last time, there will be extra TV, extra ice cream, extra allowance... I'm really a sucker for them after all.

Faubourg

Outside the hotel - me looking a bit eccentric but I don't mind. The world opens with a bang! following Congress's inability to sign the Paulson bail-out. I think things better than we all think, but still bad. Here is my snap-shot understanding: following the Internet Bubble, Greenspan made money cheap to stimulate our economy - interest rates fell from 6% to 1%. The "free cash" had to go somewhere and it did: property. Thus the 30 year housing bubble grew beyond historical value measurements like rental rates. To spread the risk and fuel the ponzy, an unregulated parallel credit market grew to perhaps $60 trillion (more than the world's assets). The inevitable property value decline has brought the re-marking of balance sheet assets forcing many (all) financial institutions to take write-offs and call in outstandings to remain capitalised. The 'deleveraging' has caused a downward spiral. There is much more to it than this, for sure, but the bottom line is a government bail-out inevitable (a fearful question being: will it be enough?) And so our banks become nationalised. Who would have thought Bush & Co. would done what the commies never could?

Katie is in Paris with her fella Mark and we meet for lunch at a new restaurant Huitrerie Regis which serves oysters, cheese and wine. Fabulous. We consume an enormous spread and I swallow 20 crustaceans at least. Not sure what that does to my cholesterol levels but so what? (Unfortunately I forgot my camera so no pictures). Katie's birthday Monday so a special occasion. Any rendezvous with your little sis in a capital city a special occasion. I am sure we will look back on yesterday 20 years from now and think... life was good. We were young. Ah yes.

Izod

Christian returns from a week's bike-riding in Spain and Portugal and we hop a plane for Paris. Here he is at the Duty Free with one of many La Costes - together we share a love for the alligator. In Paris, we get good weather for strolling around nearby our hotel in the eigth arrondisement and rue Faubourg St Honoree - over lunch we discuss the difference between marranges, macaroons and egg whites. The conclusion: they are all good (especially when in Paris). Christian meets a friend at Astorg Partners for a possible job then afterwards we go to Hôtel Costes for a martini - the hotel was commissioned by Jacques Garcia and is renowned as a den of opulence in conjunction with Klay Robson as Developer and construction consultant (the design maxim was "all things in excess"). Indeed. We observe the beautiful people being observed and observing. Our waitress has legs taller than me. From there we have dinner at neighborhood bistro and hang out until late. I love this city.

The Gang

Here is Eitan with his pals at the birthday party - can it really be a year?. The kids are coached by an old-timer, who cracks jokes about ManU (yea!) and Chelsea (boo!). His authority stems from a silver-whistle, which he blows repeatedly for hand-balls, loose fouls and rough-playing. The kids divide into sides and the birthday boy gets first pick: touchingly he chooses Madeleine though there are better players. The boy is alright (and I make sure he is aware that I noticed). It is a beautiful autumnal day and about 75-degrees allowing the kids to sweat it out. Sonnet and I can't resist joining them and I tease the kids to "go after the granny!" which they do with fast little feets. At one point I'm sitting by goal with Harry on defense: he lets three by and I tell him: "you know, you are supposed to keep the ball out of the net." He cracks up. Yes, a fun day for Eitan. A fun day for dad.

Birthday Boy

Eitan celebrates his 8th on Sunday choosing the pitch for an organised afternoon of footie, pizza, hot-dogs and cake and presents. We snap this photo together before the action arrives.

So, Dear Reader, here are the things I love about being a parent:
1. It is fully occupying all the time and forces me to examine the ever-most crannies of my life. Sonnet and I make decisions for the kids within our limitations of geography, resources, income, family and friends and it all comes together - Eitan and Madeleine know they are loved.
2. Babysitting. Seriously. Nothing is more enjoyable than me alone with them, they in bed, me watching TV or reading.
3. Acting silly. I get their continual immediate feedback for acting like I am their age. They groan when I sing on the school-run or laugh when discussing things like farting - such a hilarious thing, really, made better when the joke shared with an adult.
4. Passing on a lifetime's data. For instance, we observe the tidal Thames which offers the perfect visible explanation of gravity while tying ourselves to the moon. Amazing.
5. Complete control. OK, this changing as Eitan and Madeleine wise-up to punishment-disownment. If I take away TV, for instance, they say, "so what?" I figure I own them about 50%, which will diminish to zero by their teens or tweenies. Then it will be about influence - if I am lucky they will listen. If not, they are grounded.
6. Watching Sonnet be a mother. I knew she would be perfect. And she is.
7. Laughing with Sonnet about everything (most of the time). We are inside the family secret, which is messy and humorous. The Shakespeare's many indignations raises a smile while their tom-foolery gets a belly laugh. They still think life occurs in a vacuum.