The Goose

Sonnet gives me a good kick and I jump from bed, grab the boy, and off to Chubb & Son for the Christmas bird. Not until standing in line do I have my first sip of coffee. The trick, as we have learned these last eight years, is to arrive 30 minutes before opening otherwise the queue around the corner and the wait two+ hours. Eitan in pretty good spirits as are we all as Moe and Grace set to arrive Heathrow today .. inshallah. This year, Grace notes, seems extra-special given the effort to be together including three cancelled flights. Katie remains closer to NYC and in Vermont.

Last night we see "39 Steps" at the marvelous Criterion Theatre on Piccadilly circus. To be precise, the theatre under the circus and we descend four or five flights to our seats. The venue dates to the 1870s and feels wonderfully of an other era which is fine since the decor not replaced in a generation (The Criterion a Grade II listed building so no structural changes allowed but a good upgrade, or at least a tidy dusting, would do nicely). Wartime music plays before and after the show. Sonnet describes the play as "an inventive comedy" which references every Hitchcock movie. Four actors fill various rolls and some of the set pieces, like racing across the roof of a train ("Number Seventeen") or avoiding a dual-wing plane ("North By Northwest"), spirited. Eitan adds "It is a bit of a mystery" and my two-cents that it is more like Monty Python. It is perfect for kids, though well passed their bedtime. Ah, well - holiday schedule dude. Anthony joins us and we have dinner at the very cool Soho House since it is, well, Anto. Kids allowed until 9PM. Sharp. The manager stops by to chat with us for ten minutes despite the busy busy.

The Pope does "Thought For The Day" on Radio 4.

Me: "Anything to say on Christmas Eve?"

Eitan: "Um, it feels like any other day."

Me: "Really?"

Eitan: "Yeah, I guess so. What's it supposed to feel like?"

Me: "I don't know. That's what I asked you."

Eitan: "Where is this going, Dad?"

Our Kate Is Always Sunshine

Kate in Ibiza on a yaght. She frolics for us all.

The winter solstice, I explain to Eitan and Madeleine, occurs exactly when the Earth's axial tilt is farthest away from the sun at its maximum of 23° 26'; this occurs on the shortest day and longest night, when the sun's daily max position in the sky is the lowest. The seasonal significance of the winter solstice is in the reversal of the gradual lengthening of nights and shortening of days. Depending on the shift of the calendar, the winter solstice occurs on December 21 or 22 in the Northern Hemisphere, and June 20 or 21 in the Southern Hemisphere. This year, ye perfectionists, the winter solstice occurred on December 21, at 23:38 UTC. This is 11:38 pm Western European Time or 6:38 pm Eastern Standard Time. Bada bing.

Eitan, reading from a joke book: "What do you call a polar bear in the desert?"

Me: "What?"

Eitan: "Lost."

Madeleine: "That is horrible."

Eitan: "Why did the loo paper roll down the hill?"

Me:

Eitan: "To get to the bottom."

Me:

Eitan: "Ha ha ha! Get it?"

Me: "Man is it dark. What do we call the darkest day of the year?"

Eitan: "The darkest day of the year?"

Me:

Eitan: "The day it's really dark?"

Madeleine: "The blackest day?"

Eitan: "The day of blackness?"

Madeleine: "The day with less sun?"

Eitan: "The day with no light?"

Me: "How about the winter solstice?"

Eitan: "Oh, yeah - that one."

Upper Hunza Valley

Munir sends the KKH gang this shot from Minapin, where Munir has been often in 2008 and 2009. In '97 Munir took us into the heart of Pakistan's Northern Territories, nicking Afghanistan, through the Karakoram Mountains and finally the Xinjiang Provence of China.. Then, Munir was responsible for small enterprises along the highway so he new every inch of the two-lane black top.

Shangri-La is a fictional place described in the 1933 novel Lost Horizon by British author James Hilton. In the book, "Shangri-La" is a mystical, harmonious valley, gently guided from alamasery, enclosed in the western end of the Kunlun Mountains. Shangri-La has become synonymous with any earthly paradise but particularly a mythical Himalayan utopia — a permanently happy land, isolated from the outside world. In the novel Lost Horizon, the people who live at Shangri-La are almost immortal, living years beyond the normal lifespan and only very slowly aging in appearance. The word also evokes the imagery of exoticism of the Orient. In the ancient Tibetan scriptures, existence of seven such places is mentioned as Nghe-Beyul Khimpalung. One of such places is mentioned to be situated somewhere in the Makalu-Barun region. The other is the Hunza Valley. Source: Wiki

Merry Cheer

Madeleine and I have a special afternoon at The Old Vic where we see a decidedly adult play "A Flea In Her Ear." I was supposed to be with my mother but the airports closed so Moe and Grace expected tomorrow, inshallah. The play's innuendos fly fast over Madeleine's head ("Dad, what are they supposed to be doing in that room?"; "Dad, why is she wearing hand cuffs?") she is into the excitement of live performance and this very different than Peter Pan, which she saw with Aggie last week, and starred "The Hoff" as Captain Hook. Woah. After A Flea, we walk across the street to the book store and spend a few bob on gifts then Waterloo station and home on the train. London lit up like a Christmas Tree and glows with holiday cheer.

Madeleine: "Do you think it was better or worse to live in the olden times?"

Me: "I think it was probably the same with a few big differences."

Madeleine: "Like going to America. That would take ages!"

Me: "And medicine. If you were born a hundred years ago you would have feared things like polio. Or imagine the plague."

Madeleine: "In Tudor times, they slit the women open when she was having a baby. They rarely had a chance."

Me: "That sounds ghastly."

Madeleine: "They did that to save the baby. But mostly both of them died."

Me:

Madeleine: "I'm glad I wasn't born during the Tudor times."

Me: "Me too."

Eitan, quizzically: "Dad, would you rather eat a cow pat or compost?"

Richmond Park Pond

The pond a favorite for years - I am with the dog and the park mostly to ourselves. A five by 5 foot unfrozen hole services the waterfowl : ducks, swans, and others I don't know.

Love Affair

The kids sleep in after a late night watching movies ("Shriek 3"). Eitan wanders into the kitchen and does what every ten-year old does : bakes a cake. This time it is a butter-milk something batter with pecans on the top and side. It turns out flat as a rock but we both note: "tastes pretty good." Me, I swim a few laps (in and out before dawn), walk the dog and organise some family papers. I yell at the kids a couple of times to clean their bedrooms, do the dishes - usual stuff. I ask Madeleine to wear a dress as we are going to the Royal Albert Hall but never going to happen. I offer her £100 and she refuses - either 100 quid not enough or she knows mine an idle jest. Either way, I like her principals.

David

Sonnet's cousin David, on her father's side and the son of Bill. David is a carpenter in Brooklyn - you cannot get any cooler than that.

The cold persists and more snow expected tonight. My parent's flight cancelled - again - leaving everybody a bit blue. Since this be England and our house from the 1920s, the pipes on the outside .. where they can burst .. which they do. No water. These things so routine they barely cause a ruffle. Kids happy, no bath. For the record : I insulated last winter but to no consequence against the lowest lows on record.

Growing up in northern California has had a big influence on my love and respect for the outdoors. When I lived in Oakland, we would think nothing of driving to Half Moon Bay and Santa Cruz one day and then driving to the foothills of the Sierras the next day.
-- Tom Hanks

£ove Your Job

Me: "When do you think life begins?"

Madeleine: "Like what do you mean?"

Me: "Does it start when the man's sperm and woman's egg come together?"

Madeleine: "No, of course not."

Me: "Well, when?"

Madeleine: "At birth."

Me: "What if I told you a baby in mom's uterus has ten fingers and a heart beat?"

Madeleine, Eitan:

Me: "How about the potential for life? When does that start?"

Madeleine: "Life begins at the first breath. That is when it starts."

Me: "I like that. There is no doubt there."

Eitan: "Yes, at birth. When the baby breathes."

Madeleine: "That is what I said!"

Eitan: "Well, it's obvious isn't it?"

Me: "Not so obvious - a lot of people argue this. How about a tree seed. Is it living when just a root underground?"

Madeleine: "Yes."

Me: "Isn't this like a baby in mom's uterus?"

Madeleine: "Well, a tree is not actually living until it has leaves."

Eitan: "That is when it can breath."

Madeleine: "Nice one, Eitan."

Me:

Singing In The Snow

Everything, and I mean everything, shut down across the UK. The kids will have their white Christmas. This reminds me of the Great Blizzard of Jan '96 which closed the NYC metro for the first time ever. It was Sonnet's first day at Anne Taylor - a job she took to help put me through business school along with my parents. The prior month Sonnet relocated from San Francisco and her fine life so we could be together. So, after a bunch of kvetching and worry, Sonnet's boss calls and we have a free day together - AT closed ! We trudge to the newly opened Fairway underneath the West Side overpass on Riverside Drive which, Sonnet now describes : "a marvelous display of excess". B/c of the snow storm we are only ones in the giant super market - spooky - and so buy lobsters. Why not ? While it may sound romantic I suppose in reality when weather messes things up, especially in a big city, life is a drag. No taxis, jammed humid subways, dress shoes soaked ..

So, today, everybody excited for Moe and Grace's arrival which is delayed two days. The good news : they do not pass time at the airport as I listen to reports of 1000s stranded at Heathrow spending the night in Terminal 3, nobody in charge nor adequate heat nor blankets. Pointing the story, the shrill woman who blasts the country's ability to deal with adverse weather - but there she is, having gone to Heathrow, stuck there for another day or two. In fairness her story about my worst nightmare - H/r bad enough those few hours before check-in.

While Eitan's football match cancelled, the boy makes it up 6:30AM for swim practice; he is one of three who join Coach, God bless her.

Sonnet: "Righty ho."

Madeleine: "Can we pick a movie and watch it together? All of us?"

Sonnet: Can we watch 'Singing In The Rain?'"

Madeleine: "No, Eitan hates it."

Me: "He's never seen it."

Madeleine: "Yes he has. There was that time when we went to that cabin by the farm and it turned 2009. And then we drove to the museum .. Fishourne Palace .. and we saw the Mary Rose."

Me: "Why do you think he hated it so much?"

Madeleine: "Because he said : 'Oh, I hate this movie.' And then he walked out of the room."

Me: "Well done."

Madeleine: "How about Harry Potter?"

“Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.”

--Oscar Wilde

Let It Snow Let It Snow Let It Snow

We finish our Christmas cards; the side-pipe burts; the Astorg subscription documents in; kids on winter recess; parents arriving tomorrow (weather permitting) - it strikes me : I am on vacation for two weeks.

Palewell Common Sunrise

I drive Aggie to the bus station, 6:30AM. She is going home .. to Poland .. by bus. 30 hours. This saves our gal some money and may end up being the smart route : London walloped by a storm that dumps a foot or more of snow by noon time and closes all the airports and cancels Eitan's football. Mom and dad arriving tomorrow so we keep our fingers crossed. Driving home, with the trusty springer spaniel in the back, I stop at our common for some exercise, me and the dog, and pay witness to a glorious sunrise. It is deathly cold so we stay for 20 minutes but well worth the detour.

Eitan: "People in Italy smoke a lot, don't they?"

Me: "I suppose. You should see the French."

Eitan: "And the Chinese. Don't they smoke a lot?"

Me: "Yes, more than 50% of their population."

Eitan: "In Australia, 300 people smoke."

Me: "That many?"

Eitan: "Yes. I read that on the Internet."

Me: "I bet you did."

Euston RR

Today I visit Wolverhampton, population 239,100. Woo hoo. I start my day at Euston Station which is no more inspiring. On the train a young couple in the row next to me drink beer (him) and vodka tonic (her) - 10:00AM, mind you. They are either ending their week in London or beginning the week-end early or does it matter? The train takes me through what most Americans, or me anyway, think of as the "real England" : villages with tidy rows of neatly organised red brick houses each with a smoke stack today covered in snow white. Rolling hills frame mine eye's review. This be the land of Elizabeth Gaskell and George Elliot or Dickens. The sweet suffering of it all.

Euston Train Station replaced the old station (including the Euston Arch) which was demolished in '62 against great public outcry - old images make me think of Penn Station NY which also went down at about that time. The new station opened in '68 following the electrification of the West Coast Main Line to Birmingham and the new structure intended to symbolise the coming of the "electric age". It certainly feels of the period but, surrounded by Grant Thornton's unimaginative cinder block HQ and next to busy Euston Rd in Camdon Town, it is pretty grim.

Space Girl

Madeleine has some performance thing at school and I learn this morning she needs to have a space suit. Sonnet finds a head-fitting box which I cover with aluminum foil and, presto, duties discharged.

Eitan, who walks to school by himself these days, skuttles around Madeleine and me, head hung down. This demands my attention so I bellow out some song which makes the boy pick up a brisk jog. I wink at Madeleine.

Me: "Do you want to put some antennas on your helmet?"

Madeleine: "Do space suits have antennas?"

Me: "No"

Madeleine: "Why would I want to put them on my space suit then?"

Me: "Fair point."

Rock On, Tommy

I'm in Paris yesterday but back in time to see fabulous Mary, who has moved her family to Seattle to take the role as head of strategy for Starbucks reporting to Howard Schultz who is 55 but, Mary says, looks like 40.

The first Starbucks was opened in Seattle March 30, 1971, by English teacher Jerry Baldwin, history teacher Zev Siegl, and writer Gordon Bowker. They were inspired by friend Alfred Peet to sell high-quality coffee beans and equipment - in fact, during their first year of operation, they purchased beans from Peet's. Howard joined up in '82 as Director of Retail Operations and Marketing, and after a trip to Milan advised that the company to sell coffee and espresso drinks as well as beans. Even though Seattle had become home to a thriving counter-cultural coffeehouse scene since the opening of the Last Exit on Brooklyn in 1967, the owners rejected this idea, believing that getting into the beverage business would distract the company from its primary focus. Coffee, they thought, was for the home, Howard left to found Il Giornale coffee bar chain in April 1986. Meanwhile in 1984, the original owners of Starbucks bought Peet's (Baldwin still works there). In '87, they sold the Starbucks chain to Il Giornale, which rebranded the Il Giornale outlets as Starbucks and quickly began to expand. Starbucks opened its first locations outside Seattle in Vancouver and Chicago and the rest, as they say, is history, Starbucks went public in '92 with 165 stores; today they are over 17,000. Source: Starbucks and Wiki.

Smoker

People who smoke around non-smokers are the worst. Actually, the worst are those who smoke in queues and I find myself sandwiched between two fags waiting for a taxi at Gare de Nord. The Parisiennes just don't care - theirs an adult city and they shall do what they wish. Photo from Vogue.

Me: "What is your favourite subject?"

Madeleine: "Art."

Me: "What is your favourite subject excluding anything with drawing ?"

Madeleine: "I don't know, French maybe."

Me: "Nice one. Say something in French."

Madeleine: "Ciao."

Me: "Um, something else please."

Madeleine: "Bibliotheque."

Me:

Madeleine: "Ciao bibliotheque. Won't be seeing you again soon."

Elizabeth Garrett Anderson

Eitan's class remains in the Victorian era and today the boy presents Elizabeth (Eitan's notes in full):

"Hello everyone,

"My name is Elazabeth Donnell Garret and I was a very special person in Victorian times.

I was born in 1836. I was an English physicians and the first woman to qualify in medicine in Britain.

"My father was Newson Garret who was a very successful businessman and my mother was called Leisa Dunnel Garret and I was the second of ten of their children.

"I was born in Whitechapel and in 1849 I went to a boarding school called the 'Academy for the Daughters of Gentlemen.' I was a nurshing student at Middlesex Hospital.

"In 1865 I passed my exams and gained a certificate to become a doctor. In 1872 I founded the New Hospital for Women.

"In 1902 I retired to Adlesborough on the Suffolk Coast and in 1908 I became Mayor, the first female mayor ever.

"I died in 1917."

Scooby Doo

Another thing that drives Sonnet crazy, pictured. Me, I figure in a few months the dog will be doing the dishes.

Eitan's KPR back in action, this time against the Manocroft Pumas, following two cancelled games due to weather. The boys never lead in a game that ends 2-2 while KPR has several heart-break shots that miss by millimeters. Eitan scores the first equaliser and almost, tantalisingly, the winner which happens after a scary boot to his left knee which sends him screaming to the ground. I resist every temptation to run on to the pitch to ensure he is Ok - thinking broken something - while the coaches, ref and other players huddle around him. He is fine, if a bit shaky, but refuses to leave the action. It would have been quite the thing if his following shot had found net.

I hike up the ladder to clean neighbors Martin and Helen's gutters. Their house underneath a Scott's Pine and we find one of the pipes properly jammed. I recall my painting days and hang my ass precariously from the second floor fitfully attempting to loosen a 40-year old screw sealed, unhelpfully, by lead-based paint. Finally I have success and yanking the pipe free nearly jerks me from the ladder. Any given Sunday. Martin and I remove a satisfying clump of pines. His garage BTW a miracle of tools, electrics, solvents, woods and castaways. He describes five variations of hammer : the "claw" hammer (which we all know); "ball pein" (rounded, used for shaping metal); "straight pin" (for right angles or through the fingers); "pin" hammer (light joinery); and the "club" (double faced, used for, well, clubbing things). I mark two old doors, a professional buffer, an anvil, chain saw and shelves of nails, more tools, screw boxes and the like. There is a set of rowing oars. Some chains. Martin's tool boxes filled with more .. tools. I love this stuff and suddenly realise that I may never have to go the hardware again. Joy!

Clarence House

Madeleine asks, "where does Prince William live?" Here it is, edited, from the Royal Website:

Clarence House, located on The Mall, attached to St. James's Palace and sharing the palace's garden, is the official residence of The Prince of Wales, The Duchess of Cornwall, Prince William and Prince Harry. At Clarence House, The Prince and The Duchess receive official guests from this country and overseas on behalf of the nation, and bring together people from all walks of life (presumably, me) through official seminars, lunches, receptions and dinners. Clarence House was once the London home of Her Majesty The Queen, then Princess Elizabeth, and The Duke of Edinburgh following their marriage in 1947 and of The Prince of Wales between the ages of one and three. It was also the home of Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother from 1953 to 2002. The Prince of Wales returned to Clarence House on 4th August 2003, the anniversary of Queen Elizabeth’s birth. Photo from wiki.

Madeleine and Rusty cuddle on the couch following yesterday's biting. Sonnet eases everyone's mind: "Once a dog tastes blood it is what they want forevermore."

Madeleine: "Would you rather have five flat-screen TVs or Rusty?"

Me: "Rusty. No contest."

Madeleine: "Me, too."

Me: "Do you think being in love is a good thing?"

Madeleine contemplates a moment and grins: "Yep."

Madeleine: "Once, when Aggie was our nanny, I slept until 1PM and Aggie made me pizza."

Me:

Madeleine: "I asked Aggie 'why are you making me pizza for breakfast?'"

Rusty In The Dog House

"Rusty" bites Madeleine clean through her thumb nail. I am on top of a 40 foot ladder cleaning the gutters and hear an ever-increasing howl: Ooooowwwww! Then tears. Our hero's thumb spouts red blood. I put Madeleine's hand under cold water, then raise it above her heart to slow down the blood and then bandage her up and contemplate rabies. "Rusty" chomping on a bone and Madeleine's finger got in the way. I ask Madeleine if "it hurts more than the time Monty bit you and you had to shake him back and forth to get him off?" and she replies "much worse." The canine goes deeper into the dog-house by licking the dishes, pictured, which has become his habit that drives Sonnet mad. Happily, following a walk where I drag the dog to the High Street so Madeleine can hit the toy store, the two seem to have made amends and now curled up together on the couch (where the dog is not meant to be).

Madeleine: "I cannot tell what is worst, getting bitten by Rusty clean through the nail or having my hand slammed in the car door. Remember that time, Dad?"

Me:

Me: "You are a very brave girl."

Madeleine: "If you call crying my eyes out brave."

Boy Italia - Shami

Eitan wears his (up to the minute current) Italian kit - a gift from the Italians. Recall, Dear Reader, that Italy is the second most successful national team in the history of the World Cup having won four titles (1934, 1938, 1982, 2006), just one fewer than Brazil.

Sonnet's cool college friend Shami (short for Shamiram) stays with us for the week-end. Shami a doctor who is now management at a publicly-traded orthopaedics company Zimmer ("back, neck and spine") with offices in Zurich and .. Warsaw, Indiana, which, she and I agree, about the middle of nowhere. Before Zimmer, she was Policy Director at Medicare - she decided what covered and I can see her doing it. Shami notes there are not many synagogues in her neighborhood and her husband, not Jewish, tells everybody he is to avoid the God loving zealots. Smart move. Surprisingly there are 130 orthopedic, prosthetic, and surgical appliances and supplies companies in Indiana. Sonnet and Sharmi last together at their tenth Smith Reunion which, I remind Sonnet, over ten years ago. That one gets a dirty look from both women.

From the Zimmer website : "Zimmer is a worldwide leader in joint replacement solutions for knee pain and hip pain, and provides comprehensive spine care solutions for acute and chronic back pain. The company also provides a broad range of trauma, dental implant, and orthopaedic surgical products. Founded in 1927, Zimmer is committed to providing effective techniques in hip replacement and knee replacement for orthopaedic surgeons who restore mobility and relieve the pain of osteoarthritis and traumatic injuries. Our minimally invasive hip and minimally invasive knee replacement systems and our wide range of related products and services make us valuable partners to health-care providers in more than 80 countries."

Madeleine: "What is the best thing you have ever done with me?"

Me: "Every time is special."

Madeleine: "Well, be more specific please."

Me: "I love going into your classroom and seeing you hard at work. Or watching your swim practice or going swimming in the pool near Gracie and Moe's house in the mountains. And our holidays are great because we are together all the time."

Madeleine: "I liked getting the hamster. And when we went to Paris."

Me: "Yes, good times."

DC Inferno

Our au pair Aneta - wow, she rocks. I would have been equally surprised if she performed Beethoven. Or spoke Mandarin. Or, on the other hand, maybe not. Aneta is the blonde.

Stéphane Rolland

Sonnet to the museum early today for "Fashion In Motion," which show-cases the work of fashion designer Stéphane Rolland. Here is what Fashion Insider says about Le Monsieur :

"Brought up in the South of France, Argentina, and the West Indies, Stéphane Rolland’s destiny lay in Paris, where he studied fashion at the Chambre Syndicale de la Couture Parisienne. At the age of 20, his talent was recognised by Balenciaga, who hired him to work on the menswear collections, and promoted him to Creative Director within a year.

At 24, Stéphane Rolland left Balenciaga to design his own prêt-à-porter collection. Success came immediately and in its first year of existence, Stéphane Rolland was stocked in 80 boutiques and department stores world-wide.

At the same time, fired by his passion for the cinema and the theatre, Stéphane Rolland simultaneously worked as a costume designer – in 2006 and 2007 he was nominated for the prestigious Molière awards – and became an official partner of the Cannes Film Festival.

Later, Stéphane Rolland desired a new challenge: Haute Couture. It was in the house of Jean-Louis Scherrer that he would find his place. Aged 30, Stéphane Rolland was the youngest French Couturier on avenue Montaigne, in Paris.

Today, Stéphane Rolland has set himself the new task of opening of his own Couture House, with which he hopes to contribute something entirely new to an industry that has never stopped evolving since its conception in the Renaissance.

The House of Stéphane Rolland will represent a modern and original interpretation of Couture – all the while remaining true the bohemian outlook and luxurious extravagance which define his nature."

Photo from the www.

Trumpet Ensemble

Sonnet and I race to the school for Madeleine's "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer." Bravo, I say! Afterwards I tell Madeleine that she "blasted her little heart out" which gets a smile and roll of the eyes.

Trafalgar Sq At Sunset

I meet some San Francisco colleagues at the Portrait Restaurant on the top of the National Portrait Gallery - it is a gem of a place that offers sweeping views from Nelson to Big Ben. An added bonus is the museum and I drop in for a two minute look at van Gogh's "sunflower." Magic, as is tonight's sunset which somehow appropriate for the yuful rioting that has moved from here to Parliament. The kids are marching, God bless. War, financial meltdown, fraud - yawn - it takes a rise in tuition fees that gets the students out. This no Berkeley or Columbia of the '60s demanding the end of Viet Nam or civil rights or Watergate. The wii generation tuned out on iPod and free downloads and Facebook. Never they mind world events. Not that my generation much better for that matter but at least we are the ones creating the technology. As to who will fix the mess caused by the Baby Boomers anybody's guess. Sarah Palin and the Tea Party? Once I had high hopes that it would be the black guy. I still have hope.

Madeleine: "I'm not being self-pitying but its always me that is blamed for everything."

Girl Power - Grant

Cal's Teri McKeever, pictured, named coach of the U.S. women's team for the 2012 Olympics, the first woman to be selected for the post. This is McKeever's19th year at Berkeley and during that time she's coached six women who made U.S. Olympic teams and 11 others that represented their countries in the Games. She was named 2009 NCAA women's swimming coach of the year. McKeever's most famous pupil is Natalie Coughlin, who will participate in 2012. Photo from the www.

I have a quick turn-around in New York for one meeting, yesterday, which seems to go well. Following the outbound flight, I jog Riverside Park on a freezing late afternoon and wonder, as I often do without, why my camera not to hand? A red barge slowly climbs the Hudson aided by a tug-boat; cars whiz along the West Side highway and across the river : New Jersey, poor souls, regarding Manhattan every moment of their lives. Grant's Tomb, at 121 and Riverside Drive, presents a distraction : I have passed 100s of times but never inside .. so there it be, the large, polished oak encasement with, presumably, Ulysses S. Grant inside. Grant lived from 1822 to 1885 and an American Civil War General and 18th President of the United States. His eternity not alone as, next to him in an equally impressive casket, his wife Julia Dent Grant (1826–1902). The elderly park ranger notes that the monument not especially popular for New York - about 100,000 visitors a year - and is opened 365 days excluding Christmas and New Years. He goes back to his book. Flags half-mast in remembrance of Pearl Harbor.

"In every battle there comes a time when both sides consider themselves beaten, then he who continues the attack wins. "
--Ulysses S. Grant

Stag Brewery

Beer has been made here, at the brewery in Mortlake, since 1487, making the Stage Brewery the oldest ongoing business in Britain. The Thames on the other side while my offices a hop, skip and a jump away. In spring, the park filled with daffodils and I eat my sandwich on one of the benches while checking my blackberry. By contrast, tonight will be -20 in some parts of the country. Scrooge would have been happy in this part of London.

Pick Pocket

TX Republican John Coryn on the left with Kentucky Republican Mitch McConnell, the Senate minority leader. Big business in little man's pocket is what I see. Can there be any question that the U.S. Senate Republicans block legislation to let upper-income tax cuts expire on Jan. 1, 2011? The US owes over $10 trillion, a figure that rose six-fold during the Bush administration. With the Republicans I agree that taxes should not go up during a recession but this is not Obama's plan : he aims to make taxes lower than Bush for 95% of Americans and up for the top 5% earning more. Even Warren Buffet agrees. Me, I should be fighting hard for tax cuts since I pay Uncle Sam for services I will never see in England+being an entrepreneur means some above-average risk which, in my humble view, should not go disproportionately to the government who has never provided me a dime during the down times. Yet the US has to get its financial house in order, and this starts with the politics.

In the United States, wealth is concentrated in a relatively few hands. As of 2007, the top 1% of households (the upper class) owned 34.6% of all privately held wealth, and the next 19% (the managerial, professional, and small business stratum) had 50.5%, which means that 20% of the people owned 85%, with 15% of the wealth for the bottom 80% (wage and salary workers). In terms of financial wealth (total net worth minus the value of one's home), the top 1% of households own 42.7%. Edward N. Wolff at New York University (2010).

"I think that people at the high end, people like myself, should be paying a lot more in taxes. We have it better than we've ever had it."

--Warren Buffet

Me: "Do you think we are too hard on you?"

Madeleine: "Sometimes."

Me: "Well, tell me what works best for you?"

Madeleine:

Me: "I mean, do you need to be punished or threatened or is it better with rewards? Like a Rusty treat for instance? Help me make it easier for us."

Madeleine: "Rewards. And if you say 'please' sometimes."

Thames Kew - Magna Carta

The sun sets at 15:51 leaving us with 7 hour and 59 minute of daylight. Plus 20 seconds. I am reminded why people who grow up in California .. stay in California. But the UK does have its charms : cozy houses jammed together and gas fireplaces; the occasional smell of burning coal. Traffic jams, the Underground and a transport system that fails at the slightest snow. Shakespeare. Cheap alcohol and flat screen TVs. Thatcher, mods, North Sea oil. Oxford, Cambridge, Eton and St Paul's. Wayne Rooney. Claridges, the Dorchester and the Lanesborough. Dukes martini. Bond. Tesco and the paps. The NHS. Churchill. Owning India and Canada. The White Lies, Kooks and the Brixton Academy. 2012 Olympics - the V&A. Paula Radcliffe's Marathon. High finance. The Queen, Kate Middleton, Joseph Bazalgatte. Kidney pie; fish and chips in newspaper. The bobby and Big Ben; Kate Moss. The Rolling Stones. The Premiere League. John Lennon. Chatsworth. Suburban smugness, red mail boxes, clotted cream. Tea. A good ramble. Richmond Park and the Thames, pictured, the mightiest river of them all.

Costantinos tells me the Italians do not care so much about the money - they seek instead the bella vita in their food and wine and company. Material hings don't mean so much.

Madeleine comes home following the British Library with Caterina and Mirella where they see the Magna Carta. Sonnet and I take Constantinos to Kew Gardens which he goes nuts for though we only have a little time since the grounds close 4:15PM in winter (the gatekeeper won't let us have 20 minutes without paying despite my long-time membership. Typical English). We pick up some flour so Eitan can bake crostata, which he describes as "an Italian pie" in honour of our guests. Costantino works away on some garden-plans for our house : he sketches the backyard and measures the sun's path; he calculates the ground water flows and various soil depths and marks free space; he considers colour patterns and advises a combination of the artistic (blossoms, grasses, shrubs) with the pragmatic (herbs, vegitables). Costantinos suggests a fusion of Mediterranean+technology+modern. He is convincing.

Magna Carta was issued in 1215 and reissued later in the 13th century in modified versions that omit certain temporary provisions, including the most direct challenges to the monarch's authority. The 1215 Charter required King John of England to proclaim certain liberties, and accept that his will was not arbitrary, for example by explicitly accepting that no "freeman" could be punished except through the law of the land, a right that stills exists today. Magna Carta was the first document forced onto an English King by a group of his subjects (the barons) in an attempt to limit his powers by law and protect their privileges. It was preceded and directly influenced by the 1100 Charter of Liberties, when King Henry I had specified particular areas where his powers would be limited. Despite its recognised importance, by the second half of the 19th century nearly all of its clauses had been repealed in their original form. Three clauses remain part of the law of England and Wales, however, and are considered part of the uncodified constitution. Lord Denning described it as "the greatest constitutional document of all times – the foundation of the freedom of the individual against the arbitrary authority of the despot".The charter was an important part of the extensive historical process that led to the rule of constitutional law in the English speaking world, although it was "far from unique, either in content or form". In practice, Magna Carta in the medieval period did not limit the power of kings, but by the time of the English Civil War it had become an important symbol for those who wished to show that the King was bound by the law. It influenced the early settlers in New England and inspired later constitutional documents, including the US Constitution. (Source: Wiki, edited)

"Perfecto"

--Costantinos

Caterina

Sonnet makes pancakes, beans, eggs and bacon which gets a suspicious look from the Italians : "whata isa this mix-toor of sweet an savoury?" Costantinos ask? "I no like so much." I have never considered Sunday Breakfast as anything other than the very best of America and England combined but, seeing our plates overflowing with yellows and browns covered in maple syrup I must have a new think about this. Meanwhile, Costantinos has a hard look at our backyard tree (recall an enormous branch cleaved leaving the balance potentially unstable) and concludes that, with the proper work, we can save our friend. He walks around the base and takes video notes with his Nokia. From there I receive tips on our phalaenopsis (roots must be exposed to sun+breathe water from air so mist-sprey); indoor potted plants (once inside, to protect from frost, cannot go out again as they become used to new climate); and general asthetic : which plants go best with others, colour schemes and blossoming patterns. I take furious notes - he is il direttore, after all. Sonnet drives everybody to the British Library while I stay home with Eitan who complains of stomach cramps; I give him a knowing wink (Eitan: "Really, dad, I do have stomach cramps").

Me: "Write a thank you letter to xx."

Eitan: "Is that an order?"

Me: "It's a strong suggestion."

Eitan: "Ok, I'm not doing it."

Me: "Then consider it an order."

Eitan, grumbling: "I knew it."

Me: "Rusty is a dog that hates a walk."

Eitan: "It's like a rabbit that won't eat a carrot."

Me: "How was the British Museum?"

Aneta: "Yes, it was Ok."

Me: "Did you see the Rosetta Stone?"

Aneta: "Yes, it was very nice."

Me: "And the Elgin Marbles?"

Aneta: "I don't know?"

Me: "Ancient statues, missing their heads."

Aneta: "Yes, but I found the Greecy stuff not so interesting."

Me: "Write another letter."

Eitan: "No."

Me: "You have a choice. I can suggest you write one more letter or I will order you to write two. Which do you want?"

Eitan: "One?"

Me: "I suggest you do it now."

Walk

We have the school Christmas fair to go to : merry-go-round, cake stalls, mulled wine (11AM), Santa's Grotto, local merchants, hung-over dads and Karaoke where Eitan is cheered to sing "Use Somebody" by Kings Of Leon (style points) and "Scooby Doo" (loss of style points). Madeleine uses her money to buy a few presents, God bless. Our first holiday card arrives. Festive season, dude.

Costantinos

Costantinos, Mirella and their daughter Caterina visit us for the week end and Friday we host a dinner party that goes into the late night. The Italians bring a treasure chest of gifts including home-pressed olive oil, sausages, lemon cake and chocolates. Eitan receives the Italian football kit (blue, white and green) and Madeleine, an animal book. They remember our kids. With joy I gesticulate like an Italiano and make up words on the fly like"automobilia" and "gardenera." Costantinos instructs me say "Mama Mia" properly : uuumma mia, with no inflexion, almost like a growl. He confirms this an expression he sometimes uses. Today they will check out the British Library, Hamleys on Regent Stree and Madame Tussauds while we are at the school Christmas Fair (hmm). As Costantinos a gardener, tomorrow will be Kew Gardens.

Katie Does Yoga

And so, Friday, as we have made it through another week.

I may confirm that Britain officially in the "festive season" or, at least, several Brits have told me that. I first noticed the faux X-mas trees and plasticy wreaths from mid-November while Oxford Street tipped in October. And I am not the only one to remark on the holidays : investors, bankers, economists and the government watch the retail sales closely. As Amit at UBS says : "Our sense is that retail sales and consumer spending more generally will remain firm into Q4 as people bring forward their spending ahead of the VAT rate hike in January. Q1, however, will be weak and going forward next year we expect anaemic consumer spending growth." Amit is a pill. Good thing, then, that we have booze to take up the slack: the British spent £10.4 billion of alcohol in the final quarter of '09 - a figure, I imagine, that will be matched yet once again.

"Bah! Humbug!"
--Ebenezer Scrooge

Waterloo Station

London Waterloo, pictured, is my lilly pad into London : the train dumps me at the terminus then I jump the underground usually to Green Park.

Along with me, 90 million passengers use the station every year making Waterloo Britain's busiest by passenger by a long ways. The total number of people is actually considerably greater as it excludes the Underground and Waterloo East. Waterloo complex one of the busiest passenger terminals in Europe, comparable to the Gare Saint-Lazare and second only to the Gare du Nord in Paris. It has more platforms and a greater floor area than any other station in the UK (but Clapham Junction, just under four miles down the line, has the largest number of trains). It is the terminus of a network of railway lines in Surrey, Berkshire, Hampshire, South West England, and the south-western suburbs of London. Its most important long-distance destinations are Portsmouth, Southampton, Bournemouth, Poole and Weymouth, all on the south coast. During rush hour it is mad.

Family Passover - St Louis

Here is the photo I alluded to recently. My father, standing, to the far right and his sister Joy at the left. My grandmother Eve (laughing) and Grandfather J.B. in the center. My guess is the photograph taken in '44 or '45.

From what I know, my great-grandfather passed into America via Ellis Island in the 1890s to escape the Russian pograms. His name was "Horn" but he wanted a Jewish sounding name so he told the attending officer "Hornstein" which was written "Orenstein." From New York, Orenstein moved to University City, St Louis, where there was an established Jewish community and this is where he thrived : he founded a textiles company which J.B. eventually took over, dropping out of school in the 8th grade to run the family business. My father, the first in his family to attend college (Northwestern) chose law school; he left the Midwest for the Peace Corps (Malowi, Africa), where he met my mother, and then Berkeley and us. Maybe Moe will fill in some of the space in story and, if so, I will put it here, on my blog.

The Passover Sedar is a Jewish ritual feast that marks the beginning of the Jewish holiday of Passover. It is held on the evening of the 14th day of Nisan in the Hebrew calendar, which corresponds to late March or April in the Gregorian calendar. The Seder is a ritual performed by a community or by multiple generations of a family, involving a retelling of the story of the liberation of the Israelites from slavery in ancient Egypt. This story is in the Book of Exodus (Shemot) in the Hebrew Bible. The Seder itself is based on the Biblical verse commanding Jews to retell the story of the Exodus from Egypt: "And you shall tell it to your son on that day, saying, 'Because of this God did for us when He took me out of Egypt.'" (Exodus 13:8) Traditionally, families and friends gather in the evening to read the text of the Haggadah, an ancient work derived from the Mishnah (Pesahim 10). The Haggadah contains the narrative of the Israelite exodus from Egypt, special blessings and rituals, commentaries from the Talmud, and special Passover songs. Seder customs include drinking four cups of wine, eating matza and partaking of symbolic foods placed on the Passover Seder Plate. The Seder is performed in much the same way by Jews all over the world.

Aneta

Aneta has been with us since summer. She is our au pair from a small village somewhere in the Czech Republic. She is in London to learn better English. No doubt, Aneta an adjustment from Natasha from Romania but the kids are doing fine if confused by yet another accent (Before Natasha, Aggie from Poland). Aneta twenty years old and a brave soul to come Britain without knowing any one (been there, done that) - we found her through an agency referral. It is because of her that Madeleine's dream of a dog has come true - Aneta able to be with "Rusty" during the day - and in fact, they are great pals. "Rusty" refuses to walk beyond a half-block with anybody other than her.

The UK gets six inches of snow and all hell breaks loose. Or breaks down. The M25 a 26 mile parking lot as drivers forced to spend a second night in their car or find shelter at a parish or hotel. Nothing fun about that. Why on earth does this happen every winter causing misery and damaging the economy? The Germans snigger - they have plenty of salt and ploughs and whatever else needed to clear a little snow. They are not girly boys.

"The day you sign a client is the day you start losing them."

--Roger Sterling

Ann, The Queen, And Narnia

Ann, one of my oldest friends, is in London with her husband and two daughters for the world premiere of "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader." The Queen attends and Ann's daughter gives her a bouquet of flowers, pictured (Ann behind her). My photo taken from the Big Screen inside the Odeon Theatre where the Queen's greeting line transmuted. Narnia the child of CS Lewis and everything about it is English : the author, the story and setting, the actors and the Director Michael Apted who is from Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire. While Narnia may be a prototypical Hollywood blockbuster, it is also important for British film which struggles despite its creative talent and recognised actors. I cannot think of the last successful British export - "Shaun Of The Dead" or "Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" maybe? Trainspotting, certainly, but that was 1996. Soo .. Leicester Square red-carpeted and blocked off for security; we pass inside along a row of 100 or so paps snapping away. The Queen and Prince Philip enter the theatre last, as is the custom, and enjoy a four-trumpet salute and the national anthem "God Save The Queen." We are twenty-feet from her and ze Prince who, as ever, is dashing and typically bemused - he is always smirking it seems. Sonnet thinks the Queen "regal;" me - I think she looks like a sweet grandmother. And, yes, she is moral backbone and guiding compass of the nation. May she live as long as the Queen Mum.

Afterwords there is a small post-screening party at the Sanderson and we admire the movie's stars : Ben Barnes (dreamy); Georgia Henley (lovely dress, nice legs); Will Poulter (friendly, expressive). I find interesting the money men - clearly identifiable with wavy white hair, nice tans, funky glasses. Unlike my industry, they are less formal (even in tuxedos) and why not? given they are financing fantasy. Money may be a driver but it is not the only driver. These guys retain their inner child.

So here is the plot, which gets a five-star review in today's Daily Mail : "Lucy and Edmund Pevensie return to Narnia with their cousin Eustace where they meet up with Prince Caspian for a trip across the sea aboard the royal ship The Dawn Treader. Along the way they encounter dragons, dwarves, merfolk, and a band of lost warriors before reaching the edge of the world."

"Rosebud."

--Charles Foster Kane

“Do you still throw spears at each other?”

--Prince Philip to an Aborigine in Australia

The Dog Ate My Blackberry

My mobile finds "Rusty." Amazingly it works fine. At some moment I will ditch the Microsoft-Blackberry cabal and go all-Apple. Not having my Vaio for two weeks as the unit repaired for various faults one instigator (once returned from the repair shop my control-key functions inoperable - try going without cutting, pasting and printing short-cuts and not go mad. I dare you.) Apple products just plane cool is another. Who, from my era, can forget their first Mac? So simple, such love. Brown had two campus Mac stations opened, amazingly, 24-7, and always full. The worst having some deadline and being forced to wait for a computer to become available. Duane owned the first printer on my Freshman hallway which became communal and made him more popular than ever. Line-ups were often six or seven deep. Back then floppy disks ruled and could barely hold ten pages of memory. Now Students cull and synthesize Internet data, copy onto a synthetic sheet, summarise their findings in an efficient paragraph or two and submit to the prof electronically. Some credit their sources. Radical.

No doubt learning has changed since the '80s and concentration, I fear, no longer at a premium. The immediacy of Facebook, instant messaging and SMS has altered our brain functions. At least mine, anyways - while my attention span never particularly lengthy I could at least hunker down for an all-nighter. Or finish a book. Now it is difficult to reach the end of a pitch-deck. And legal documents? Oi vey. This one reason I am an entrepreneur : stim-u-lation. But also, more generally, my style of information accumulation now rewarded - quick, limited doses, everywhere all the time. And not just academics or business BTW but courtship and other human interactions. My and everybody's role to filter, digest, move on.

In '98 I met Nathan Myhrvold, then the Chief Technology Officer of Microsoft, following a speech at London college. We talked about one day planting a micro-chip in the brain "installing all human knowledge" in an instant. I smiled but thought him a bit loony. Not so now.

"Men are only as good as their technical development allows them to be."

--George Orwell