Freak Out!

Swine Flu has captured the nation, with government last week announcing out of the blue that 100,000 caught the virus, which could inflict 40% of the population (here's a live shot from Mexico and they seem to be doing OK). Not surprisingly, Government's new online diagnosis service crashed within minutes as >3,000 people per second tried to log on. Otherwise, there are 840 patients in England receiving hospital treatment for H1N1 virus, with 63 in intensive care (comparable figures for the previous week were: 652 in hospital and 53 in intensive care); our Chief Medical Officer reports 26 "provisionally validated" swine flu deaths in England since the beginning of the outbreak. Combined with four deaths reported in Scotland, the UK total stood at 30. Out 60 million. This is no laughing matter but reason to panic? Flu occurs every season, and kills people too - probably many thousands. And why are we like the only country in Europe to suffer the virus?

Britain loves a good crisis. Two years ago it was "bird flu" which was going to wipe out a quarter of the population. There was a scramble for the anti-virus like nobody's business. Pandemics legacy has been with us forever - population density, poor hygiene and the Thames have made our island nation vulnerable over the ages. Plague did kill half of London in the 15th century. Pets quarantined for six months on arrival though no rabies for a century. Still, we are a different country today and the NHS an efficient primary care provider including distribution of vaccine, if needed. We also know to wash our hands. Unfortunately, Government releases a worst-case scenario without its risk weighting (like: there is a .001% chance 40% of the population will get blah blah). Governments job to keep us informed of reasonable risk, not terrify the old age pensioners and every mum in town.

I have yet to meet a swine flu. Sonnet notes that a nearby day-care closed for for a week when one child diagnosed. I am told somebody in my office has the virus (he's quarantined) and we now have sanitation gel and wipes everywhere in sight. So life goes on and we hope Government's assertions, most aggressive assertions, prove to be yet another misplaced communication.

Silvio Redux

Speaking of children in the penalty box, Silvio about to get there following publication of his third sex tape (nearly a box set!). Recall "high-end" call girl Patrizia D’Addario recorded the pair having sex and then discussing performance (Silvio: "it's a family thing") and there is an impact: political outrage in Italy. Massimo Donadi, parliamentary leader of the left-wing Italy of Values party, called the Prime Minister’s behaviour “morally reprehensible”. Dario Franceschini, leader of the main centre-left opposition, said Mr Berlusconi was trapped in his own reality show. Voters are also growing tired of the PM, whose popularity now below 50% (three months ago it surpassed 70). Trying to brush these things off, notes Silvio casually: "I'm no saint." You can just hear the Italian drawl. Wonder what the Pope thinks?

For all of us ex-pats, and particularly followers of Vitter, Craig, Jon Edwards, Sanford et al, we can finally rejoice: a scandal that lives up to the Americans! Hookers, under-aged mistresses, political intrigue, island sex parties and divorce. All this from our main guy Silvio! I am forced - forced, dear reader, to ask myself if there is another motive. Silvio too sly a fellow so maybe, just maybe, he is putting his business - his shareholders' interest - first. Afterall, Burlesconi owns three national television channels, which together have approximately half the national viewing audience; his Arnoldo Mondadori Editore the largest Italian publishing house in Italy whose publications include Panorama, one of the country's most popular news magazines; he retains substantial interests in cinema and home video distribution firms and we know today's antics good for that. Indeed, Silvio's performance may be keeping an entire industry erect employing thousands of people while creating corporate value. Rather than a philanderer and baffoon, he is a philanthropist shareholder, sending young women into politics, paying them direct aid for services rendered, saving jobs and providing a distraction for his people otherwise suffering the economic crisis. He will be remembered as one of the Great Ones. Of this we can be sure. Photo from the Telegraph online.

“You should have sex with yourself — you should touch yourself often.”
--Silvio Berlusconi gives some advise to "high-end" call "girl" Patrizia D’Addario

"I'm No Saint"

The kids are going through a phase where they fight. Not, like, yell and shout but punch, really punch, and kick each other. I often observe with a cocked eye - they do need to burn off some steam, the little buggers, and what better way then a smack down? Usually the losing party (and usually Madeleine) resorts to tears knowing full well the battle not over until it is over. The post-action recount often concerns the first punch (or kick, or whatever). Madeleine no dumby - by proving the instigator, she can still stick her brother in the penalty box and no TV or Harry Potter.

The other night, for instance, I turn around to find Eitan on top of Madeleine choking her.
Eitan: "Well, she started it!"
Madeleine: "Did not!"
Eitan: "Did! You did!"
Madeleine: "So what if I did. You were choking me!"
Me: "Eitan no TV. No Harry Potter!"

And so it goes from generation again.

Luke

Here is Eitan's classmate pal Luke ("Lucozade") who is from an impeccable family. His sister goes to one of the most prestigious secondary schools in London and his family vacations in St Lucia on a sailing boat hopping from island to island.

Luke uses knife and fork properly, placing his utensils on the plate between bites. I quizz him on multiplications and he knows his tables.

These kids have boundless energy and, though I might try, it near impossible for me to entertain them as I once did. I am out of shape not having spent large chunks of time with the brats since Christmas BUT I pride myself on being goofy at their level, a wonderful training from my mother. 

Today instead I find myself reading the riot-act on several occasions and giving Freddy a time-out for rude behavior (says he: "so what?" and looks at me coolly). Sometimes it is a matter of breaking their will. One. Day. At. A. Time.

Madeleine: "Dad, you are the best dad ever. And it is not like there is a lot of choice."

Shooting Fish In A ..

Madeleine wants a fish and is relentless about it. Her persistence a fine quality. Usually.

Along with everything else, US corporations have been slashing internal, long-term research and development spending, and, most recently, investments in venture backed start-ups and venture funds (my photo from the local pet shop). Where our nation once at the forefront of global innovation, we are being surpassed by places like Korea or China. Consider GM. Those blowhards should own the electric or hybrid market; instead they fought Washington to keep their SUVs while failing entirely to commit anything to the next, next thing. Now they are a fraction of their size and might. GM an easy example, but not alone: AT&T's Bell Labs, IBM's Watson Labs, and XEROX PARC were turbines of innovation and the envy of the world. They were also cool. Imagine being some super-educated geeko with computer science or engineering degrees (sorry Roger on both counts) working in the salt mines - here was the way out. And more: perhaps the closest thing to rock-stardom as these tighty-whities might get. Today, no more.

The data shows: in 1981, US companies with more than 25,000 employees represented approx. 70% of the investment in industrial innovation, according the the National Science Foundation. By 2006, it was 36%. The slack during this time picked up by small companies who absorbed investment: from 10% of US R&D in '81 to 40% today. No surprise. Further, public companies originally venture capital-backed today are 17.5% of the US GDP and have created more than 12 million high-paying jobs over the last 30 years (source: Venturebeat). Without venture capital, we would be Germany. Or Bulgaria. High growth tech businesses re-employed the redundent during America's 1980s downsizing - remember all that m&a and Gordon Geco stuff?

I learned in MBA school that the first thing to shutter, when looking for "efficiencies" to justify a merger or"unlocking value" after the deed done, is the research department. The reason, other than conserving or freeing cashflow, the market - which can do things better than an individual (company). In short, better to buy, or have the option to buy, technology developed on somebody else's risk. It also eliminates the problem of "project creep" which, as Arthur has told me, is what happens when 100 engineers given a free hand. They do what smart people do - explore, test, waste shareholder money.

Today's increasing problem stems from corporate isolation, some arrogance plus a dose of complacency and a pinch of corruption. From the 1980s, substantial R&D cost savings transferred back to venture innovation via m&a and investment partnerships, where a General Partner (GP) managed commitments in return for a share - 20% - of the take. This kept the brain muscle working, gave corporates access to best-of-breed entrepreneurs and universities and made a lot of people rich. All good in our capitalism. Today, I often must argue that venture an asset class given the miserable returns these last ten years but this silly: of course it is, only the best investments not looking for IPOs or mega-exits. Base-hits, ie, smaller deals in capital efficient companies, have always been the industry's bread-and-butter before large cap funds arrived circa 1999 (a large-cap fund making a $50MM investment in one company, for instance, looks for a $1B exit to get its multiple). Smaller, specific deals exactly what buyers want or need. So today, without corporate dollars and tax incentives, we lose the ability to innovate and lead having squandered resources in larger, value destroying funds. Britain has suffered this fate (who recalls the de Havilland? Neither do I but it was the first commercial airline and British). By failing venture, our companies are a fish in a barrel.

Albert Bridge

From the Internets (mostly): the Albert Bridge is Grade II listed, connecting Battersea and Chelsea, and designed/built by Rowland Mason Ordish in 1873. The "Ordish-Lefeuvre Principle" modified cable-stayed bridge proved unsound so Sir Joseph Bazalgette retooled it as a suspension bridge in 1887. The Greater London Council carried out further strengthening work in 1973, adding two concrete piers (pictured) which changed the central span into a beam-bridge. Albert is the rare hybrid with three designs.

So.. Albert was built as a (horse) toll-bridge but commercially unsuccessful; six years later it was taken into public ownership and the tolls lifted. The toll-booths, however, remain and the only surviving examples of bridge toll-booths in London. Go figure. Albert is nicknamed "The Trembling Lady" because it used to vibrate when large numbers of people walked across; even today signs warn troops from the nearby Chelsea Barracks to break step while crossing the bridge. This same phenomenon closed the Millennium Bridge, much to our embarrassment.

Albert's roadway is narrow, only 27 feet wide, and with its "serious structural weaknesses" ill-equipped to cope with motor traffic. Despite calls for its demolition or pedestrianisation the Albert Bridge has remained open to vehicles throughout its existence and is one of only two Thames road bridges in central London never to have been replaced. The strengthening work carried out by Bazalgette and the the Council unable to prevent further deterioration of the bridge's structure. A series of increasingly strict traffic control measures have been introduced to limit its use and prolong its life, making it the least busy Thames road bridge in London except for Southward Bridge which I don't know. The bridge's condition is continues to degrade however, from traffic and rotting of the timber deck caused by urine of the many dogs using it as a route to Battersea Park, little bastards.

In '92 Albert was rewired and painted in an unusual colour scheme to avoid shipping collisions. At night it is illuminated by 4,000 bulbs.

Madeleine: "Can we go now? It is just a bridge."

Battersea Park

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

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

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

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

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

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

Skate Board

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

Modern Life

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

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

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

St P and Kraut

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

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

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

"Ich möchte Stechschritt und essen saurkraut"
--Germany

Holiday

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

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

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

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

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

Undercover

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

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

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

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

Sporty

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

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

Edwin

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

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

Squash

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

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

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

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

Currency

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

Common Rain

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

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

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

Bugs And Teens

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

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

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

School's Out

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

European Parliament

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

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

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

Goldman's Bonus

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

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

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

Bentford

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