HST

Given these times, we need Hunter S Thompson more than ever. Where is the outrage voiced by my generation? Is there outrage or will that come when the debts come due .. The opening of the "The Great Shark Hunt," published in 1979, one of the most powerful I can recall with Thompson typing on New Year's eve and contemplating jumping from a Midtown skyscraper. He dares us to read. Thompson probably most famous for his "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" and "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72" where he skewered the political elite while making it all sound fun, if not surreal, on the edge. He was friends with Allen Ginsberg and William S Boroughs and other Beats; he briefly lived in Aspen and ran for sheriff of Pitkin County, Colorado, in '70 on the "freak power" ticket which promoted decriminalising drugs and re-naming Aspen "Fat City" (he shaved his head and referred to his opponent as "my long-haired opponent", as the Republican candidate had a crew cut). Thompson created "Gonzo journalism," a style of reporting where reporters involve themselves in the action to such a degree that they become central figures of their stories. He is also known, of course, for his unrepentant lifelong use of alcohol (morning constitutional: Bloody Mary), LSD, mescaline, and cocaine. He loved firearms. He owned a long-standing hatred of Richard Nixon and, more recently, George W. Bush and the other political riff raff and villains who asserted their dreadfulness on us via government. Thompson was 67 when he took his life.

HST raged against the establishment which he viewed as corrupt, greedy, unthinking, bloated ("America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable"). His insanity ("The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over"), probably liberated him - one senses he does not give a hoot about the consequences of his efforts. Remarkably, Thompson hated writing yet was compelled to say something, anything, against perceived or real injustice. He did his best at this.

Since Bush I have been waiting for an anti-establishment backlash or some intelligent voice that brings it together and allows us to believe, somehow, our country not completely controlled by special interests. Or idiots. Instead we get Sarah Palin and the Tea Party. Roll over in your grave, HST.

Self photo from the WWW.

"Myths and legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men's reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of 'the rat race' is not yet final."

--Gonzo Papers, Vol. 1: The Great Shark Hunt: Strange Tales from a Strange Time (1979)

Handy Man

I have a surprisingly good time painting the door frame which requires caulking, filling and sanding out the imperfections then priming and, finally .. painting.

Eitan studies the Victorian era: "Do you know what they called kids who did not have a good education?"

Me:

Eitan: "Dunces. And they had to wear a pointy hat and stand against the wall with one leg up."

Me: "Your teacher told you that?"

Eitan: "Yes."

Me: "Did you learn anything important?"

Eitan: "Queen Victoria died at 81, and Albert at 40. They named mom's museum after Victoria and Albert."

Me: "What are you thinking about?"

Madeleine: "A dog."

Me: "How about now?"

Madeleine: "Dog."

Me: "Now?"

Madeleine: "Dog."

Sonnet: "Madeleine, don't interrupt."

Madeleine: "I just want to explain something about a dog."

Sonnet:

Madeleine: "You don't want to feed a dog dog-food from a can. It doesn't taste good."

Eitan sniggers.

Madeleine: "It doesn't taste good for the dog. Plus it is not good for their teeth."

Me: "Dogs on your mind Madeleine?"

Walk And Target

Natasha and Giuseppe stop by to take the kids for a walk. Alphie joins. Since leaving us when Sonnet began her work sabbatical, Natasha has taken a job working with special needs children at a local school (she has a masters degree in psychology with her thesis published). Giuseppe has recently joined Deutsche Bank in IT. As we know, Madeleine has dogs-on-the-brain and seeing Alphie raises us to Defcon 3.

Eitan's KPR get killed 4-NIL by Target, who beat us last year as well on their home turf 3-0. The Blues redeemed themselves later in the season at regional tournament when, in the quarter-finals, the boys victorious on penalty kicks. Today, though, the magic not there. Eitan plays center field instead of his usual right-wing; he is KPR's game captain and his urgencies go unanswered. In reality, without goal-keeper Maxime, the game would have been 6-nil. Eitan up against two boys who are both good and play him rough. Sonnet and Madeleine on the sideline and the car ride home not much fun though the mood improves when ManU defeats Liverpool 3-2 in an exciting game. Berbatov scores a hat-trick including a remarkable bicycle kick.

"Come on KPR!"

--Eitan

Specs - Scott & Cindy

Last night I return to bed, pitch dark, and hear that horrible sound all eye-glass wearers dread: the crunch underfoot. My '50s style retro tortoise shells irreparably damaged but Madeleine makes an effort to secure the snapped leg with duck-tape, modelled. It don't quite work but I love her for it.

Scott and Cindy join us for dinner - they are favorite friends and Scott recently on the Board of Trustees at Brown University and the acquisition committee at Rhode Island School of Design museum (when we first met I followed up by sending him a paper Katie wrote on the museum during her semester at RISD; our friendship sealed). Scott has excellent stories of Providence, Rhode Island, including his post-Brown house on College Hill whose roof the highest point in the city. He and a friend hit golf balls from a balcony to Prospect Terrace Park without, "and I have no idea how" Scott says, breaking a window or two (I once took girls to Prospect Terrace for its surprisingly romantic views of the otherwise disrespected city; the giant pest-control bug on I95 does not help). He and Cindy had great parties and this was the 70s so I do not doubt it for a moment. Scott recalls encounters with Providence's colourful mayer and both Scott and Cindy have been to Cafe at Brooks where I washed dishes the summer of freshman year (most fun job I have ever had) and know the restaurant's owners Jack, Nate and Saul who were creepy, unattractive, Jewish brothers who owned most of dodgy Foxpoint including my Jr. year house - I never did get my security deposit returned, go figure. Scott and Cindy began dating at 14 and here they are in our dining room for us to enjoy. Scott turned 60 the year I hit 40 and we celebrated with a magnum of Champagne.

Eitan: "Yes! Yes! Yes! Arsenal and Sunderland tied 1-1!"

Me: "Pretty exciting, huh?"

Eitan: "Thank you, God, for this gift."

Eitan: "Would you like an omelette?"

Me: "No thank you."

Eitan: "Just so you know, the pancakes were a failure."

Zafar

We learn about Zafar, pictured, a handsome young man who represents the Hampton School along with other confident young men and boys. They sure have it on me at their age. Eitan and I tour the Hampton School for secondary which is seventh grade to university. The headmaster tells us that Zafar is a cricket star selected to play for the England U15s and then chosen as Captain of the U16s in 2008. Most recently he joined the England U19s and has been awarded a contract with Surrey County Cricket Club for the remainder of the 2010 season. As well as playing outstanding cricket on the national and county circuits, Zafar has played for the Hampton 1st XI for four years. This year, as School Captain and Captain of the 1st XI he has led the side through a successful season personally scoring over 1,000 runs, including six centuries. I have no idea what this means but it does the trick: the audience oohs and ahs; Eitan at full attention.

Hampton School offers a beautiful setting on a sunny autumnal day with 17 sports teams in action and visible on the various campus pitches. We parents shuffle through the buildings visiting the sciences, arts, maths &c. rooms with our bashful or anxious sons in tow. Hampton School all-boys while girls attend neighboring Lady Eleanor Holis. I joke with our yuful tour guide that there must be a well-worn path between the two buildings; he laughs awkwardly. No time for that here. How different from Berkeley High School where my friends were having dinner parties and hot tubbing sans clothes by tenth-grade and frat parties by 11th. Eitan is terribly impressed by the show as he should be: Hampton School one of Britain's best and he would do well to go here. We will visit several more to get a better sense of what he may wish to do. Sonnet and I also thinking about Madeleine who will begin this process next year.

Me: "Anything you want to say about Hampton?"

Eitan: "Any club you want to do, it is going to be at Hampton."

Me: "Anything else?"

Eitan: The football pitches look like Astroturf since they are so neat and well cut."

Barracuda

Here is Katie, a Berkeley Barracuda, at a swimming meet at King Jr. High School where we spent five hours a day from age 10 or 11. I can just smell the chlorine as I blog. I am guessing the photo from 1979. Following in Auntie Katie's footsteps, Madeleine makes progress in the pool and her coach Cindy chooses Madeleine to demonstrate the proper freestyle technique (my eyebrow raised, dear reader). I think Madeleine, already a strong kid, could also be an excellent butterflier but for now it remains her least favorite stroke. Butterfly the most challenging to master.

Bill and Martine with us last night which is a fun way to end the week. They are on their way to Amsterdam and a cruise ending up in Budapest. Martine recalls a visit to Czechoslovakia in '68 where she and Robin's passports confiscated until departure - the Police informed them it was for their safety. Now it is a bit easier to travel eastward though Bill has three cracked ribs following a horse-related accident. This did not keep him from going on his annual 100 mile ride into the Rockies nor visiting Europe. Bill is true grit. Martine tells me that his High Holiness passes near her hotel and she spies the protesters: "Nope to the Pope."

Madeleine on Friday: "Are you going to work?"

Me: "Yes."

Madeleine: "But you are wearing a suit."

Me:

Hair

Eitan up early to plan is birthday party, which will be an over-night with five friends. On the agenda is make-your-own pizza, the Manchester United-Sunderland match (on television), a conker collection, football play-match at the park and a “midnight feast” which, I suggest, could be McDonald's. He likes that one.

I am in Paris Tuesday afternoon and sit on the steps of Madeleine staring across Place de la Concorde. I people-watch as shoppers on Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore march by – this is the stylish 8th Arrondisement and the Parisians are de la mode. The city a bee hive in the autumnal sunshine. From here I meet a new friend Bertrand at Hotel Costes – we sit in the inner courtyard and discuss media and the Internet since he recently sold his company and is now between ventures.

Why does the Pope bother to make his first visit to the UK anyway? Given Benedict's conservative bent (he's no Pope John Paul II), the Catholic church remains in the midst of a never-ending child-abuse scandal and resists outside, transparent, investigation; vocal against gays, abortion and birth control, like condoms, which save millions of lives. Women not allowed in the priesthood and so lesser citizens. This is so not a secularised British society. Unsurprisingly, Benedict's visit fails to fill venues. Sonnet thinks the Pope here on a PR junket to deflect attention from the scandals. I would not disagree – when everything going against you, road trip dude!

Me: “What are you going to do with all those conkers?”

Madeleine: “Usually they just go to waste. So I am going to make animals.”

Me: “How do you make animals from conkers?”

Madeleine: “You are writing on your blob, aren't you Dad?

Sonnet: “Eitan, are you going to do something about your hair this morning? I would suggest a comb.”

Eitan:

Me: “What does your teacher say about your hair?”

Eitan: “I don't know. He doesn't really say anything.”

Me: “Hmm.”

"When you arrive at Heathrow you think at times you've landed in a Third World country."

--Cardinal Water Kasper, Advisor to the Pope, voices what we all think

Goggles And An Au Pair

Our au pair, Aneta, started yesterday and will live with us while looking after the Shakespeares when they are not in school. This is new for everybody and will take some adjusting to but the kids prove themselves to be the little troopers that they are: tears of protest followed by courteous acceptance tethered by fear (me: "the hand of God shall fall upon thee .. . "). Aneta is 20, from the Czech Republic, and here to learn English and, presumably, to have an adventure or begin anew. It is London, after all. Recalling my 16th year in Geneva, I know how hard a transition can be and, in Aneta's case, she came to Britain before a job and without friends or family. Brave. Aneta allows Sonnet to return to the V&A next week following her sabbatical.

Madeleine writes a story about a toaster whose hero is Sir Kit. Madeleine: "Get it dad? Sir Kit? Circuit?"
Me: "Am I excused now?"

Mister Deputy Prime Minister

Nick Clegg, the British Deputy PM, strolls the sidelines Sunday as his son's team plays KPR's under-nines. Wearing casual clothes, I would not have noticed Clegg if someone had not pointed him out. Yet there he is, the equivalent of the US Vice President, and nobody seems bothered or even to care. Imagine Joe Biden at a soccer match in the suburbs somewhere - it would be hell. Clegg pushes one child in a pram and roots for his son, the goalie. His wife Miriam González Durántez is by his side completing a picture of family harmony. I do not see the secret service but, most likely, that is the point (photo from the web).

Since you asked:

The Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom is a senior member of the British Cabinet. The office of the Deputy Prime Minister is not a permanent position, existing only at the discretion of the Prime Minister, who may appoint to other offices - such as First Secretary of State - to give seniority to a particular Cabinet Minister.

Unlike analogous offices in some other nations, including the United States Vice Presidency, a British deputy prime minister possesses no special powers as such, though s/he will always have particular responsibilities in government. He or she does not assume the duties and powers of the Prime Minister in the latter's absence or illness, such as the powers to seek a dissolution of parliament, appoint peers or brief the sovereign. He does not automatically succeed the Prime Minister, should the latter be incapacitated or resign from the leadership of his or her political party. In practice, however, the designation of someone to the role of Deputy Prime Minister may provide additional practical status within cabinet, enabling the exercise of de facto, if not de jure, power.

In a coalition government, such as the current one between the Conservatives and Liberal Democrats, the appointment of the leader of the smaller party (in the current case, Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democrats) as Deputy Prime Minister is done to give that person more authority within the cabinet to enforce the coalition's agreed upon agenda. The Deputy Prime Minister usually deputises for the Prime Minister at official functions, such as Prime Minister's Questions. (Wiki).

For the record: Nick's son (Eitan notes) gets clobbered 12-nil.

Paint Job

Sonnet and I paint the kitchen and remain on friendly terms. I have not held a paint brush, dear reader, since college and, besides, I only did outside work. An interior job requires greater attention to detail which, we all know, has never been my strongest suit. First Boston proved that beyond a doubt. In college it struck me pretty early on that the only way one made money painting houses was to get the other guy to do the painting. Now I have Sonnet. She puts up with me and we finish the job- and it ain't half bad either. In fact, it is pretty good and saves us a couple hundred pounds to boot. Can wall paper removal be next?

Back To School

Eitan's KPR back in action and today their first game in Division 1, having been promoted following last season's top finish in Div 2. Anthony joins us for the excitement. Today, the lads play Spelthorne Sports, which is a town about eight miles west of us in the 'burbs. KPR wins 3-2 and outplayed their opponents despite the close outcome - two goals get through in the second half. Jean Luca scores a hat trick while Maxime, our goalie, is heroic - blocking at least two shots that the sidelines thought for sure successful. Maxime's finest moment against a penalty kick inside the box which he judges correctly and blocks fully stretched out. Eitan in the middle of the action setting up two goals with clean passes across the middle. Everybody happy.

Anthony: "Did you have fun in Italy?"
Eitan: "It was sunny and we stayed at a cheep hotel."
Me: "And how do you know that our hotel was cheep?"
Eitan: "Well, we stayed there."
Me:

Araneus Diadematus

I always mark this time of year with the arrival of spiders which, with football, pumpkins and tree colours, the perfect marker of fall. Here, pictured, we have a common garden spider, which is also the biggest spider in Europe and second in size only to the giant silk spiders of the tropics. Their webs are built by the larger females who usually lie head down on the web waiting for their prey (Madeleine has a hard time choosing sides; last night she was near tears over the water bugs while I was raking the pond). The third pair of legs of garden spiders BTW are specialized for assisting in the spinning of orb webs and also used to move around the web without getting stuck. These legs are useful only in the web; while on the ground, they are of little value. To mate, the smaller male will approach the female cautiously; if not careful, he may end up being eaten by her.

Madeleine comes home for her afternoon play date to find us having pizza. Madeleine: "Can I have some?"

Me: "No, you've had dinner."

Madeleine: "Even if there is some left over?"

Eitan: "I am going to finish it."

Madeleine: "You are doing that just because I want some."

Eitan: "I am doing it because I am hungry. Besides, I have been doing chores all afternoon and you haven't."

Madeleine: "So? I just want one piece."

Sonnet: "No way."

Madeleine huffs off: "Can I watch some TV? Eitan has been watching football."

Me: "No. That is college football. And I am watching it."

Sonnet: "Why don't you go clean Tommy's cage? And that is not a suggestion."

Madeleine: "Everybody is against me."

Me: "Tough love, kid. Sometimes that is the way it is."

Loom And Tree

Madeleine, with Sonnet and Silver, purchased a loom in Taos, New Mexico. I admit that my initial thought was another project to be abandoned. We all have them. Yet Madeleine, who spoke constantly about making sweaters or rugs or something for Tommy, retains her enthusiasm: she battens away, pictured. The contraption set up in her bedroom and she has spent hours so far weaving yarn along a wood dapper between warp threads, then releasing the line for her next row. Her work excites her and us.

We have an arborist over to appraise our tree which, dear reader, you may recall suffered an unfortunate and premature pruning when half the trunk of the 250-year old Scots Pine cleaved apart following a stormy night whilst we were away (Sonnet posts 'free firewood'). The arborist a gentle soul with intelligent, empathetic, eyes - I think elfin. His firm's clients include Richmond Park. He tells me he began his career as a "climber" - going up the big ones and cutting branches and &c. Now he enjoys the trees without having to harm them, even if necessary for their health for the long run. So, anyway, our tree is no longer balanced as the fallen branch the prong of a "Y" formation from about 30-feet up. If the rest were to come down, it would be serious though fortunately not near anyone's house. The arborist goes to work looking at the tree from below and the second floor of the house; he will need access to our neighbor's yard to finish his estimate and to do any work, which would include cutting back the pine by 25-30%. None of this comes cheaply but the good news is that we may be able to keep our ancient friend.

Gare du Nord

I arrive at Gare du Nord, pictured, following a showery day in Paris leading to a beautiful sunset at 8:30PM. I have dinner at Terminus, as often, which is like the Oyster Bar at Grand Central Station - classic. I much prefer the train to Heathrow and Charles de Gaulle (a ghastly airport) even though the London Terminus at St Pancras across town and requires an overline rail and undergound connection. Once on the train I can plug in my notebook and drink my coffee in peace - I am more productive here than the office. Go figure.

Not really visible in my photo, Gare du Nord has 23 female statues that adorn the 540 ft façade. Each represents a particular destination served by the Chemin de Fer du Nord rail company (now part of Société Nationale des Chemins de fer Français). These include Paris, London, Berlin, Warsaw, Amsterdam, Vienna, Brussels and Frankfurt .. several slabs of stone, supported by a cast iron beam, are used for the exterior job. The interior of the station is 216ft wide and 600ft long, and contains a large central hall and a glass train shed. It is supported by iron pillars manufactured by Alston & Gourley's ironworks in Glasgow.

GdN is the busiest station in Europe, by total passenger numbers, and the third largest and busiest in the world handling around 180 million travellers per year (Clapham Junction is Europe's busiest railway station by daily rail traffic - one train every 13 seconds at peak times). Du Nord has to be one of the most beautiful - arriving from London .. now that is glamour even if wearing jeans and a polo shirt.

"Have you ever had one of those moments when you look up and realize that you're one of those people you see on the train talking to themselves?"
-- Marc Maron

Indus River

In 1997 I experienced the Mighty Indus, which causes suffering and misery for many millions of people in Pakistan as it overflows catastrophically.

Originating in the Tibetan plateau in the vicinity of Lake Mansarovar in Tibet Autonomous Region, the river runs a course through the Ladakh district of Jammu and Kashmir and then enters Northern Areas (Gilgit-Baltistan), flowing through the North in a southerly direction along the entire length of Pakistan, to merge into the Arabian Sea near the port city of Karachi in Sindh. The total length of the river is 3,180 kilometers and it is Pakistan's longest river. The Indus has a total drainage area exceeding 1,165,000 square kilometers. The river's estimated annual flow stands at around 207 cubic kilometers, making it the twenty-first largest river in the world in terms of annual flow. Beginning at the heights of the world with glaciers, the river feeds the ecosystem of temperate forests, plains and arid countryside. Together with the riversChenab, Ravi, Sutlej, Jhelum,Beas and two tributaries from the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Afghanistan, the Indus forms the Sapta Sindhu (Seven Rivers) delta of Pakistan. It is the fastest moving body of water on the planet.

Sonnet, Katie and I+a small group travelled alongside the Indus for 700 kilometers before parting into the Karakoram Mountains and eventually crossing into Western China. During our trip the Karakoram Highway had washed out and, to our luck, opened at our arrival following four months of closure (and even then it was not certain we could proceed). Makeshift rope bridges crossed the river every few miles which caused me to take a deep breath: a slip was certainly the end.

The Tibetan Plateau contains the world's third-largest store of ice. Qin Dahe, the former head of the China Meteorological Administration, said the recent fast pace of melting and warmer temperatures will be good for agriculture and tourism in the short term, but issued a strong warning:

"Temperatures are rising four times faster than elsewhere in China, and the Tibetan glaciers are retreating at a higher speed than in any other part of the world.... In the short term, this will cause lakes to expand and bring floods and mudflows. . . . In the long run, the glaciers are vital lifelines of the Indus River. Once they vanish, water supplies in Pakistan will be in peril."

W'Loo Bridge - Sunset

Me: "Madeleine, do you remember where Spain is?"

Madeleine: "Um, no."

Me: "Atlas, please."

Madeleine: "Oh, no! Not the Atlas."

Me: "Oh the sweet tears of such sorrow."

Madeleine: "Dad, do you know what you are going to be when you grow up?"

Me: "What?"

Madeleine: "A mean Grand Dad."

Madeleine, before the Atlas: "Tell me a place to find. Like Germany or Bath or something."

Me: "How about Munich?"

Madeleine: "I've never heard of that one before, Dad."

Me: "It's in Germany."

Madeleine: "I'll find it."

(She turns her attention to Tommy and I wonder - will she?"

Madeleine: "I asked Ms X if I could bring in my two bones tomorrow and she said yes. So can I bring in my two bones tomorrow?"

Sonnet: "Okay, leave them by the door."

Madeleine pumps her arm: "Yes!"

Coal Sky

Forgotten about global warming? Here is one to ponder: 29 billion tons of CO2 emitted into our atmosphere in 2007. Photo from Bullfrog Builders; sobering following our summer travels through some of the most scenic land in America.

Since the Industrial Revolution concentrations of most greenhouse gasses have increased rapidly. In 2007, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Changed found the three primary GHGs - carbon dioxide, methane, and nitrous oxide - had risen 35%, 148% and 18%, respectively, when comp'd to pre-industrial levels. These levels are significantly higher than any time during the last 650,000 years based on data from Antarctic ice cores (Siegenthaler, Urs; et al). Moreover, recent data suggests key GHGs are increasing at an accelerated rate - in the 1960s, the average GHG concentration was 37% of what it was from 2000 to 2007 (Dr. Peter Tans, "Annual C02 Mole Fraction Increase from 1959-2007").

CO2 is the leading GHG and a primary cause of global warming, whose rise in atmospheric levels directly attributable to human activities. Fossil fuel combustion alone is responsible for roughly 75% of emissions, which have grown 145-fold since 1850. The IEA estimates atmospheric CO2 will grow by another 54% by 2030 in absence of regulation. At their current trajectory, rising GHG concentrations threaten to push temperatures upward by as much as 11-degrees Fahrenheit (Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, 2007)

Coal, not surprisingly, is the villain accounting for 26% of the world's primary energy supply and 42% of the CO2 emissions. More specifically, coal in power generation produces aprox. 1,100 grams of CO2/kWh followed by oil (900) and natural gas (650). Wind power, geothermal and hydroelectricity are less than 50. Coal is by far the most abundant and most accessible carbon on Earth with estimates that the existing supply may last 250 years (McKinsey & Co). It is also the cheapest energy source at nearly a quarter of solar and 60% nuclear (Source: EIA, 2010; MIT). Coal will be with us for a long time - we have made tremendous investment in our coal-fired infrastructure to enable global electricity demand, which is set to grow 76% from 2007 to 202 (IEA World Energy Outlook, 2009)

I suppose if there is any good news, governments are reacting despite Copenhagen's failure: 72 countries have legislated or continue to use renewable forms of energy to mitigate climate change. Germany's goal is 22% renewable by 2020, UK 15% and Japan 18%; the US in limbo as the Senate refuses to take up climate control though 27 states have mandated renewable minimums from 15-40% including California at 33% (source: Renewable Energy Policy Network). Let us hope for China and India.

"The world's energy system is at a crossroads. Current global trends in energy supply and consumption are patently unsustainable-- environmentally, economically, socially.... What is needed is nothing short of an energy revolution."

--International Energy Agency, 2008

Sneaky

I'm not really sure what's on Madeleine's mind, or her intentions, but here she is by the sofa.

Eitan's KPR back in action for a "friendly" tournament in Barnes to help the Barnes Eagles build their new sports club after the old one burned down from foul play. The boys are rather scrappy following the summer recess and it shows: four games and one goal. Fortunately, the only goal an equaliser in the fourth game so the lads, for all their effort, walk away with four ties; it is not enough for top honours too bad. Us dads stifle yawns. It's good to see the crew: Joeren is from the Netherlands so we talk a bit about the World Cup (Spain defeated the Dutch); Johansson a diplomatic correspondent who tells us about Tony's memoirs; Nick owns Britain's largest children's shoe chain and we learn what is selling (for the record: player-sponsored football boots yet, Nick notes, "they're all crap" - I can't disagree as Eitan begged for Rinaldo Nike "Mercurial Vapor" for £120. And these weren't the most expensive, either. Not on my watch).

We spend the rest of our weekend prepping the kitchen for a paint-job thinking olive-green. It should be fun but I can be grumpy about indoor chores - especially after busing the kids back-and-forth to their various. Nevertheless I did paint about 75 houses in Providence, Rhode Island, over three summers so this should be my moment to shine. We putty, tape, scrape and sand: a hole filling "foam" attaches to my fingers and takes a layer of skin when removed. Tomorrow, brush-work.

Cal wins its opener against UC Davis, 52-3. The Bears are 9-0 against UCD since 1933 when the teams played each other for the first time.

Eitan: "Dad, here are my covers for my homework books. I put my favorite funny stuff down."

Me: "Hmm?"

Eitan: "See, it looks like Fergie [Sir Alex Ferguson, ManU coach] forgot to pack his sun cream."

Me:

Eitan: "And this one says: 'Welcome to Deepdale. The next game blackpoo.'"

Me:

Eitan: "It's meant to be 'Blackpool' but they left off the 'L'"

Me: "Pretty funny, huh?"

Eitan: "I think so."

London Facing East

Here we are, Friday again, and back in the saddle. I think. I take this photo from Penguin House, a beautiful art-deco building on the Strand - that is Waterloo Bridge before us connecting Blackfriars and the Southbank Center and Waterloo Station (the bridge built in 1942 using mostly female labour as most of the men fighting in the war). Beyond W'loo twinkling in the distance are the sky-scrapers of The City, London's historical financial district.

We make pizza for dinner - Madeleine's favorite - and Eitan and I now watch England play Bulgaria in a European Cup Qualifier. My mind is not really in it. England up 1-nil. College football starts tomorrow and while I have no hope for the Bears I am looking forward to the season. At least we don't have unrealistic expectations this year. Make that 2-0, both goals by Jermaine Defoe.

Eitan: "Mom! Mom Look!"

Sonnet: "What is it?"

Eitan: "I Have a seriously wobbly tooth."

Sonnet:

Update: England defeats Bulgaria four-nil with Jermaine Defoe scoring a hat-trick. Why couldn't we do this in June?!

Penguin House - Hedge Funds

Last night we are at Lars' book launching party on the Strand, pictured. Recall Lars a retired hedge fund manager who wrote an insider's expose on the industry. Until it all ended, money was easy assuming, of course, one could raise it. Hedge fund economics simple: 20% of the upside over a "high water mark" plus a management fee on assets of 1-2% per annum (hedge funds are different from long-only funds as they can "short" stocks or bet on their decline; this allows them to "hedge" their position). Consider a small fund of say $200 million. Should the thing double, the fees to the manager are $40 million paid immediately (private equity, by contrast, must pay back its investors+a preferred dividend of 7-8% before they can take their "carried interest," also 20%. This period rarely less than five-years and more likely seven or more; one advantage private equity enjoys is a "lock" on capital of ten years while hedge funds must return money immediately if "called"). But sweet liquidity: managers that caught the timing made themselves rich, and stayed rich, even when the financial markets crashed and their investors crushed.

Since '07 things have been tough for hedge funds but the money, inevitably, comes back: investors withdrew $131 billion from the industry in 2009 but strong returns last year boosted overall industry assets to $1.6 trillion, according to MarketWatch. That's almost $260 billion more than the industry trough in the first quarter of 2009 but still $330 billion below the peak of $1.93 trillion set in the second quarter of 2008. Putting this into perspective, we have likely spent as much on Iraq.

Lars is charming in his speech - he keeps his audience by choosing not to read a chapter. He knows the crowd with him this perfect London evening to schmooze and drink and look at the pretty view from the tenth floor of Penguin House. We sure enjoy ourselves.

First Day School

We are back in the thick of it now, oh boy. Kids excited about the prospects of the new term, Year 4 and 5, respectively, which starts this morning. And I, like every parent, am left to wonder: how did they become so .. big. Yes, these little Shakespeares are growing up. Eitan, for his part, has written a football-training schedule for each day of the week, rotating by position. He notifies me that Monday to Wednesday morning I will be required to take him to the pitch for drill-practice which is fine by me as it will force me to exercise (it is all about me, after all). This morning the boy in the backyard, 7AM, practising headers. Not sure what the neighbors think about that but we will find out for sure (our bedroom thankfully on the other side of the house). Madeleine slower to rise, poor kid. She remains our night owl and mornings never fun, especially now, after holiday (we share a teary moment as I wrestle her from bed). Sonnet does the drop-off and reports: "Madeleine found her friends on the schoolyard and she was off. Eitan was in the midst of his group when he arrived, and deigned to come over to say 'hi.'" While sunny, it feels like autumn and I spy the first spider web of the season. Sounds about right.

Full-time education in the UK is compulsory for all children aged between 5 and 16 (inclusive). Students may continue their secondary studies for a further two years (sixth form), leading most typically to an A level qualification, although other qualifications and courses exist, including Business and Technology Education Council (BTEC) qualifications and the International Baccalaureates which have become ever more popular with ex-pats for US colleges. The leaving age for compulsory education was raised to 18 by the Education and Skills Act 2008. The change takes effect in 2013 for 17-year olds and 2015 for 18-year olds. State-provided schools, like ours, are free of charge, and there is also a tradition of independent schooling, but parents may choose to educate their kids by any suitable means. The National education budget for 2008-09 was £62.2 billion with total enrollment 11.7 million, of which 4.4 primary, 3.6 secondary and 3.7 post-secondary. (source: Dept of School, Children & Family; Higher Education Statistics Agency). This equates to about £5,300 per child.

Eitan and Madeleine are in our fabulous state primary school which is a ten minute walk from our house. We anticipate Independent, or private education, from secondary (Year 7) and Eitan will take the "10-plus" exam this year. Gulp. Approximately 7% of English schoolchildren attend privately run independent schools, some of which are called (confusingly for the Americans) "public schools". Education at independent schools is usually chargeable. Such schools, some of which are boarding schools, cover primary and secondary education and charge between £2500 and £30,000 per year (ISC Annual Census). Many offer scholarships for those with particular skills (football? performance?) or aptitudes or bursaries to allow less well-off students to attend which I note, dear reader, includes ours.

"In the UK, state schools exist in a bewildering variety of forms. Over the last hundred years, successive governments have struggled to improve education by reforming its structure, over and over again. What all state schools have in common is that they are entirely free to parents, being funded through taxation."

-- The Good Schools Guide

Great Smog - 1952

I have an engaging sunny afternoon conversation with neigbhor Martin, who has lived in his house all his life or (by my estimate) >75 years (Martin's mother won Wimbledon twice in the 1920s and Martin plays there every Sunday morning like clockwork). Today he tells me all sorts of interesting things like our neighbor, Clive, having emergency open-heart, by-pass surgery while we were away ("But doing all right." Apparently). I also learn that our council will replace the 1960s cement lamp-posts (which I kinda like as a period set-piece) with new, modern, poles. Martin recalls those days when a council-man, dressed in official council-gear, would light the gas lamp-lights on our block every night using a rod. He made haste on his bicycle, usually not needing to dismount for the chore. Our conversation turns to London's terrible fog which, today, is a rarity and maybe a few times a year. In the 1950s, however, the coal-ash particles condensed air moisture and fog (smog) was normal. Martin would bike home from school arriving covered in black.

The Great Smog darkened the streets of London and killed approximately 4,000 people in the short time of four days (a further 10,000 died from its effects in the following weeks and months). Initially a flu epidemic was blamed for the loss of life. A period of cold weather, combined with ananticyclone and windless conditions, collected airborne pollutants mostly from the use of coal to form a thick layer of smog over the city. It lasted from Friday 5 to Tuesday, 9 December, 1952, and then quickly dispersed after a change in the weather. Although it caused major disruption due to the effect on visibility, and even penetrated indoor areas, it was not thought to be a significant event at the time, with London having experienced many smog events in the past, so called "pea soupers". Public transport ground to a halt, apart from the London Underground; and the ambulance service stopped running, forcing the sick to make their own way to hospital.

More recent research suggests that the number of fatalities was considerably higher at around 12,000 with another 100,000 effected. Most of the victims were very young, elderly, or had pre-existing respiratory problems. The deaths were caused by respiratory tract infections from hypoxia and as a result of mechanical obstruction of the air passages by pus arising from lung infections caused by the smog. It is considered the worst air pollution event in the history of the United Kingdom, and the most significant in terms of its impact on environmental research, government regulation, and public awareness of the relationship between air quality and health. It led to several changes in practices and regulations, including the Clean Air Act 1956.

(Source: Stegeman, John J. & Solow, Andrew R. A Look Back at the London Smog of 1952 and the Half Century Since; A Half Century Later: Recollections of the London Fog, 2002).

Photo from the WWW.

Madeleine: "Guess what the best part of my day was?"

Me: "What?"

Madeleine: "Guess."

Me: "What?"

Madeleine: "Guess."

Me: "Buying some yarn?"

Madeleine: "That was going to be the best thing but the store was closed."

Bouncing Back

Madeleine and Eitan burn some energy on the neighbor's trampoline.

We are slowly back in action, me having slept until 1PM yesterday and 11AM today. I feel punch drunk. Eitan insists he he is unaffected by jet-lag: "I am one of those kids who doesn't get it I guess" he informs me yet there he is, 2AM, wandering around our bedroom (and again at 9AM when he puts ear-plugs into his radio to wait patiently at the foot of the bed for Sonnet or I to feed him). Madeleine is over-joyed to see Tommy who has been with Natasha this month - I am over-joyed that Tommy did not get eaten by Alphie. Otherwise it is the usual post-holiday glum: bills, sorting mail, going into the office .. my head is still somewhere in the Sierras .. or the Rockies.

I watch the US Open.

Eitan: "Dad, did you know that Roger Federer is back to his old tricks?"

Me: "Hmm?"

Eitan: "When someone hit it to him, he ran backwards - so watch (Eitan demonstrates) - he ran backwards and hit it through his legs. And that is how he won the match."

Me: "Cool."

Eitan: "He has done that before. It is famous."

Me: "Good to know."

Firewood

We arrive at Heathrow following a month's journey to the USA which has taken us from Giant Burgers to tacos with a number of Dairy Queens in between. Berkeley to Bear Valley then Denver, La Veta, Taos and Santa Fe, New Mexico. We are blessed to have family and friends in these parts of the country. As this chapter concludes we consider autumn's schedule: new school terms; Division 1 football (Eitan); swim team (both kids) performance class (Madeleine); 10-plus exam (Eitan); V&A, following a five-month work-leave (Sonnet); unfinished assignments (me). Wherever it may go, we have great memories from our endless summer. Stay tuned.

Cowgal

Martine, Sonnet's Aunt, in front of her horse-trailer in La Veta. The road to the Minnis ranch unpaved, heading straight for the Spanish Mountains - I cannot imagine a more stunning vista to return to every day. At some point it must become who you are, which certainly seems the case with Martine. Her love is her animals and around the house are several cats (dog Guinnes passed a year ago) and, of course, the horses which she cares for single handedly when Bill in Denver where they have their second home (the ranch is closed during the winter and the horses "boarded" at nearby stables). This means moving 100lb barrels of hey and removing equally heavy manure, exercising the animals and putting them to pasture every day. They are healthy beasts as, Martine points out, "they fart all the time." This being a good sign. Martine used to teach at Boston then Denver public schools up to the second grade; she did a sabbatical year in Oxford where she taught and took some classes (there are photos of the Royal Family throughout the house). Martine a grandmother of one and soon to be two as Maire announces her pregnancy over the phone during dinner (Martine and Bill knew before of course). She went to Vassar (see: T-shirt) while her stories as interesting as her life. We enjoy her. She sure looks after Eitan and Madeleine.

Madeleine: "Tell the story about Auntie Katie eating liver."

Me: "Which one is that?"

Madeleine: "The one where she refused to eat it. During the Jewish holiday."

Me: "I think you mean cow's tongue following Passover. Grace cooked it in a milk cream."

Madeleine: "And it looked like a tongue!"

Me: "Yep."

Moonrise

I catch this photograph around 10AM on the way into town. No need to get out of the car - sometimes it just works like that. La Veta's High Street offers several jewels: local bakery operated by lesbians (open four days a week); a bona-fide gym for $5 a go, and the "Book Nook," a used bookshop whose proceeds go to the local library. Of course Charlie's for ice cream. Sonnet and I look at the real estate offerings and day-dream about property. There has been limited development and, as Martine aptly notes: "there's nothing to do here." A couple hundred grand could get you a pretty nice place in the outback. I see sadly that the La Veta Inn is for sale at just under $600k - down from a million earlier this year. Recession blues, no doubt.

As for the locals - cheerful and chatty as ever. Sitting on a bench more often than not results in a discussion about something. The La Veta Redskins HS football team, for instance, has a large front line which fills the town with hope ("Hell those boys can't do any worse than last year" the gas station mechanic tells me). The local 18-hole golf course is looking to expand with condos and more green land despite drought; his efforts rejected so .. he closes the golf course. Classy move, dude (Wallsenberg has a 9-hole course but 18 miles by car). Tomorrow's battle is wind farms: three projects, particularly one near scenic La Veta Pass, have galvanized grassroots opposition and posed a challenge for county planning officials. Let us hope for progress, indeed, but not too much of it.

Route 159 #8

Vista Rockies

Sunkist

We were last here, at the Chamayo shrine, in 2008 - nothing has changed including Leona's shack serving tamales and tacos. We are otherwise surrounded by dry mountains, tall leafy trees and a brook which cuts in front of the shrine. The plaza does, indeed, feel peaceful and even spiritual -I wonder if the spot unique because of the Santuario de Chimayo or if the church built here because of the wonderful vibe. Madeleine discovers the 'gift shop' which remains, consistently, her main favorite focus of any place we visit - from Big Trees to the Denver; the Tate to Tate or wherever. Here, at Chamoyo, she wants to buy the Cross of Jesus but I refuse to lend her the money on principal ("neither a borrower or a lender be," I chime). As to the religious symbolism, well, that is more than I wish to explain.

What are we to make of the Times cover story that over 1,000 UK girls, aged 11 or 12, are on the pill? Well, firstly, the suggestion that these girls are sexually active is tosh: many pre-adolescents are prescribed hormonal contraceptives for heavy periods, acne and endometriosis which is a lot less eye-catching interesting than "11 year-olds on the pill." Secondly, the report relies heavily on the Christian Medical Association (enough said). Here are the facts, according to The Lancet, 2001, study: "We recruited 11161 men and women to the survey (4762 men, 6399 women). The proportion of those aged 16—19 years at interview reporting first heterosexual intercourse at younger than 16 years was 30% for men and 26% for women; median age was 16 years. The proportion of women reporting first intercourse before 16 years increased up to, but not after, the mid-1990s. There has been a sustained increase in condom use and a decline in the proportion of men and women reporting no contraceptive use at first intercourse with decreasing age at interview. Among 16—24 year olds, non-use of contraception increased with declining age at first intercourse; reported by 18% of men and 22% of women aged 13—14 years at occurrence. Early age at first intercourse was significantly associated with pregnancy under 18 years, but not with occurrence of STIs. Low educational attainment was associated with motherhood before 18 years, but not abortion."

The kids get their first sex education in Year 3 - around age-8 - where they learn the differences in the sexes. It accelerates from there. Back then, I attended a teacher-parent meeting to understand what to expect since sexual education is compulsory in the UK (England and Wales have 65 conceptions per thousand women aged 15-19, the highest in Western Europe according to The Office of National Statistics). Labour's 2000 pledge to halve teen pregnancy by 2010 has failed completely. The main reasons for our high rate: We don't give children enough information; we give them mixed messages about sex and relationships; social deprivation means girls more likely to get pregnant; and girls of teen mothers likely to do the same.

Sonnet and I have been discussing sex with the Shakespeares well before Year 3. I think they have the general idea but Eitan is so pained by such things that I sometimes wonder what actually sinks in. It seems the world is stacked against these youngsters from drug addiction to environmental calamity, war, cost and access to education, unemployment and recession and rising cost of education (and this, the Western World) that I put teen-pregnancy pretty low on my list of concerns. Talk to me in four or five years.