Target

Eitan's Kew Park Rangers take on Division Leader Target Sports in a thrilling game which sees the Blues lose 2-1. Both sides play to their limit and Target's goalie impenetrable - he is also the biggest kid on the pitch. Eitan scores KPR's goal after a cross field break-away that confuses the goalie, who races forward to snatch the ball only Eitan squirts by him then hooks a left foot on the ball for an impossibly difficult angled shot that skips into the lower corner of the net. He tells me later that he did not know if it went in since his momentum carried him beyond the goal post. Afterwards the boys sprawled out on the grass and receive kudos from the coaches. It should have been a draw but that's the way it goes. Nobody complaining about the team's comportment.

Aggie stops by this afternoon - last I saw her, she was on a 30 hour bus ride to Poland for the Xmas which turns out to be the quick-route given Heathrow closed for five days due to snow. Aggie starts her new job tomorrow at Deloittes, an offer she receives during the holidays.

Me: "Look at all that mess. Good thing I've got you to clean it up."

Eitan: "No. One, mom is using that mess. And two, I am doing my homework."

Me: "You should be a lawyer."

Eitan: "Why?"

Me: "Because you know how to make a good argument."

Eitan: "I never want to be a lawyer."

Me: "And why is that?"

Eitan: "Number one, you always say that I should do what makes me happy. Number two, I want to be a footballer. Number three, I want to be a chef. And number four, I want to be an author."

Eitan: "You know, you are not a very good singer."

Me: "I will have you know that I once gave Michael Jackson lessons on singing."

Eitan: "Ha ha ha. Let me see your 'moon walk' then."

Eitan watches me 'moon walk': "What?! Even Gracie could do a better 'moon walk' than that!"

Play Date

Marcus joins Madeleine for a play-date and spends the night. At Madeleine's request, I buy an 'Aero Bar', some Starburst 'Fruit Chews' ("It's a juicy contradiction" the wrapper tells me) and a pack of 'Skittles' ("An endless color stream of bite-sized content") along with a fifth of Ben & Jerry's 'Chunk Monkey' ice cream which is mostly gone by the time I get to it. Sonnet makes popcorn which is devoured before 'Toy Story 3' while I multi-task shining shoes. Later I find the kids sprawled out on their beds talking into the late hours. Madeleine's pulled ligament, confirmed at the hospital, heals up slowly.

Me: "What were you guys talking about so late last night?"

Madeleine: "Dogs."

Me: "And what was so interesting?"

Madeleine: "Well, dogs love HP sauce."

Me: "They do?"

Madeleine: "Yes, it's a fact Dad. Marcus's dog 'Otis' eats it all the time."

Me:

Marcus: "It's true."

Madeleine to Marcus: "He just doesn't know anything about dogs."

Me: "Madeleine, come down here right now and tidy your mess."

Madeleine: "But Dad, Marcus is here."

Me: "Now."

Madeleine: "Marcus!"

Me: "Now!"

Madeleine: "You always know how to take the fun out of everything."

Me: "Marcus, does your mom make you do the dishes?"

Marcus: "Yeah, sometimes."

Me: "Does she make you do your homework before you watch TV?"

Marcus:

Madeleine to Marcus: "Say 'no.'"

Marcus: "No."

Madeleine: "See, Dad - I'm the only one who can never watch TV."

Zona Rosa

I return from Amsterdam yesterday (my Polish driver gives me a sly look) with a few meetings here and there including lunch at one of Rotterdam's best restaurants. I take my running gear but forget my shorts so run in my PJ bottoms - a few people stare but so what? 43 has its privileges. Back to the hotel, I put my feet up and read Steig Larson which has me totally hooked though I mistakenly read book three before two which I am finishing now. I like Lisbeth Salander who kicks ass and maces villains. Yesterday it was Don Draper and before that Tony Soprano. I find these strong characters useful - might they be heroes? Each flawed and yet .. formidable .. capable of directing their surroundings .. with intrigue or violence. All played out on the living room sofa. I like to think some of it goes with me into business situations.

As for the Red Light District, a 2007 crack-down forced the sale of one-third of the brothels and the window displays more of an oddity for loud tourists and their cameras. British males, the kind I don't like, are in the plenty.

Me: "I have a funny picture of Eitan strangling you."

Madeleine: "You mean at the Tate Modern?"

Me: "No."

Madeleine: "Or at school that time?"

Me:

Madeleine: "Or when we were at Cafe Nero?"

Me: "No. It was at the old house."

Madeleine: "Oh, yeah. That time."

Madeleine: "You spend more time on your blog than with me and Eitan."

Me: "Not true."

Madeleine watches me write our conversation: "See what I mean? Instead of spending time with me you are getting off on your computer."

Me: "Well said."

Sonnet: "Madeleine - trumpet."
Madeleine: "But the Simpsons!"
Sonnet: "Practice comes first."
Madeleine: "But it's a cliff hanger!"

A Sprain

I arrive home to find Madeleine on the coach instead of band and swimming practice: "sprained arm, Dad" she tells me without looking away from the TV. "It might be broken." She and Billy rough-housing at school and, Aneta informs me, no tears until Sonnet on the mobile then some considerable drama. I feel Madeleine's arm and get a few good yelps so I don't doubt that Billy gave her a twist. When I query, gravely, whether a trip to the doctor in order she replies "Maybe after 'Nemo.' Mom is taking me to the emergency tomorrow morning if it does not get better." Later, over dinner, we discuss bedtime. I tell Madeleine she cannot possibly sleep in her bed since it might cause harm to the injury. Instead, we agree, the bathtub. Sonnet unsure if I am joking as Madeleine takes her blanket, and Doggie, into the tub.

Me: "Madeleine, I've discussed it with your mother, and we think you should sleep in your bed."

Madeleine: "That will definitely be difficult. On my arm."

Me: "If you are going to the emergency tomorrow, I want you to be rested."

Madeleine: "Yeah. It's not very comfortable in here either."

Me: "You're a very tough girl to suffer all this pain."

Madeleine: "Do you think so?"

Me: "I know so."

Charlie And The Tree

Charlie, pictured, his dad, his brother (in the tree at the end of the rope) and a childhood friend go to work on the Scot Pine. Recall, Dear Reader, that a large part of our 300 year old dear fell to earth leaving the remainder unbalanced and a danger to us and our neighbors. We took quotes from three arborists who priced the fix from £600 to £10,000. Each said we should remove the tree but, after consulting my Advisor, we aim to keep the old girl.

Charlie's grandfather began the family business and, Charlie notes with a heavy Lancaster accent, "we can't be complain'n." He laments the demise of many neighborhood trees which are often felled despite being perfectly healthy ("pur-fectlee 'elthy") and, presumably, impacts his long term prospects. Charlie tells me that a wood-chipper goes for £62 Grand. Charlie's dad now re-opens the pricing, noting that the initial agreement underestimated the necessary work "to keep the tree safe." When I offer that the minimum assumption safety I receive a blank stare. In the end, the arborists cut down maybe three-tons of branch wood, opening the upper canopy, allowing wind to pass safely through the top foliage. They do a good job. The wood will be mulched and recycled as pulp.

Madeleine: "Whenever I see a women in the movies giving a kiss she always leans her head back. Why do they do that?"

Eitan: "Why did the squirrel swim on his back?"

Me:

Eitan: "To keep his nuts dry."

Madeleine: "Does it really say that?"

Busty Mary

Chilean fashion designer Ricardo Oyarzun under fire from the Catholic Church for dressing "busty" models as the Virgin Mary, pictured.

Madeleine: "I wish Christmas was twice a year."

Me: "That would be nice."

Madeleine: "But it's not possible. Then Jesus would have to be born twice."

Me: "Well, Jesus was born to the Virgin Mary so anything could happen."

Madeleine: "What's that mean?"

Me: "Mary did not have sex yet somehow gave birth to Jesus ."

Madeleine: "That's what happened in the Fantastic Mr. Fox."

Me:

Madeleine: "They had baby foxes but did not do the thingy."

Me: "The 'thingy'?"

Madeleine: "This conversation is disgusting, dad. Can we talk about something else?"

Me: "Please."

"There is no pornography here, there's no sex, there are no virgins menstruating or feeling each other up. This is artistic expression."

--Ricardo Oyarzun

Lazy Sunday

At my suggestion, Madeleine adds NaCOH3, wine vinegar, detergent and blue dye. We are off to buy some Menthos and two-liter bottles of Diet Coke.

Eitan sits the Hampton School entrance exam yesterday morning, 9AM sharp. I drop him off and recall my SATs in '84 - I had taken the exam at the American School in Geneve and my scores weren't getting me into any school I was going to. So I studied up and took it again. Only I was sick exam-day and it was pouring rain. I mumbled about taking the test another day but Grace ordered me in the car, which broke down two blocks from the house. Grace commanded: "sit!" and raced up the block to get Moe's Volvo (impossible to drive unless you are Moe) and somehow got me to the test center as the doors closing.

For his part, Eitan pretty relaxed - at least, he wants to get rid of me quickly given the other boys .. and me, the only parent with a camera. After the drop-off I take the dog to Hampton Palace to walk the path along the Thames and consider the kids growing up with their own lives. I call Sonnet and tell her we are lost and Eitan missed his test.

Saturday night: Madeleine over-nights with Dana and Nathan, who buy her cupcakes and spoil her mad. Sonnet and I have dinner in Chelsea with Arnaud (from France) and his fiancee Julia (from Lebanon) and their friends Lanna (Lebanon) and Mathew (England) who met at Oxford studying English and French literature; they are professors. Eitan watches TV with Anetta (Czech Republic). Rusty (Welsh) pees on the kitchen floor.

Me: "What's your homework?"

Eitan: "I have to write ten things about Ireland and I don't know any."

Me: "That can't be too hard."

Eitan: "The first letter of Ireland is 'i'."

Me:

Eitan: "The second letter is 'r' and the third is 'e'."

Me: "You're not seriously writing that down are you?"

Staying Focused

I am shooting these days with a Canon 50mm f/1.4 prime lens which is good for portraits and some landscapes. I am working up to 70-200mm IS f/2.8L but this will set me back a couple grand. The price says ouch but this is the lens my DSLR made for. The quality coatings and design of combined with a hood means less light bouncing around and diffusing inside the lens, and that means sharper, better contrast photos. I'm also contemplating a wide angle - maybe 20mm f/1.8.

Any ways, I am with the Shakespeares and we start our day at Richmond Park, pictured, where Madeleine finds a fort made of fallen branches. Eitan brings a football and I drag Rusty, who makes some friends and sniffs some ass. From there we go for more football at the common, then haircuts at the Turks (I hold back Madeleine recalling Sonnet's wrath when I took Madeleine, age three, to Jeff the Barber .. Jeff thought Madeleine a boy and so for the next two years many thought she a he). After the Turks we select olives, cheese and salamis at Valentinos which is the best shop on our High Street and have a picnic at home. Now the kids fight as I blog (excuse me, Dear Reader .. "KNOCK IF OFF. AND I MEAN NOW!" Eitan: "But she's not letting me pet Rusty!" Madeleine: "I'm holding Rusty!" .. and so it goes). I plan to wash the pooch and do some household DIY. Adding to our family scene The Archers on Radio 4. School begins tomorrow, 8:45AM sharp.

"A good photograph is knowing where to stand."

--Ansel Adams

Murder, She Wrote

Madeleine writes a story in her journal, below, which she reads on our way home from the V&A where I pick up the kids for the day.

"Murderers End," by Madeleine

Chapter 1: Death

It was Midnight. The full moon rose into the sky. A detective was on the lookout for a killer.

The detective had found a dead body outside his house two days ago. In the dead man's hand there was a piece of paper. The piece of paper was red with blood.

There was a message on the paper, it said: "death are there millions. The moon will shine. You must journey to the cave called 'Murderers End.' The journey is dangerous. You must find the murderer or there will be no more life. He will kill millions with the help of a murderer ghost called 'Hax.'"

The detective wondered who was the murderer and how he was going to get to Murderers End in time. He needed a crew of detectives if he wanted to succeed. Slowly he walked back to his house. He froze. The door was hanging open.

The detective walked in and screamed. His wife was dead on the floor. There was another note. It said, "Get out of here, detective, before I get you too."

The next day the detective set out to the police station to get a team of detectives and at the same time he gave his wife's body to the police.

"This is a mystery story and horror story combined."
--Madeleine

Moonbeam

Heeere's Jerry, California Governor. Again. As my business school friend Costa once quipped: "careers are a long thing."

Back in the '70s, Jerry wished to use some of California's state-surplus (yes, surplus) to fund a space academy and own and operate a communications satellite and subsequently Linda Ronstadt referred to Jerry as "Moonbeam" to Rolling Stone magazine. The nick-name stuck. Moonbeam somehow appropriate for his hippie-dippie style (he eschewed the Governors Mansion for a two-room apartment and drove a Pontiac to the State Office), though The American Conservative noted he was "much more of a fiscal conservative than Governor Reagan." Whatever your views of the Governor he has been on the right side of social progress, nominating the first openly gay man, and later, lesbian, to the state court.

Here is Brown's electoral history (from wiki)

1970: Elected as California Secretary of State with 51% of the vote

1974: Won Democratic primary for Governor of California with 38% of the vote

1974: Elected as Governor of California with 50% of the vote

1976: Lost Democratic presidential primaries to Jimmy Carter, finishing second with a nationwide 14% of the vote

1978: Won Democratic primary for Governor of California as an incumbent, with 78% of the vote

1978: Reelected as Governor of California with 56% of the vote

1980: Lost Democratic presidential primaries to Jimmy Carter, finishing third with a nationwide 3% of the vote

1982: Won Democratic primary for Senator from California with 51% of the vote

1982: Lost California Senate election to Pete Wilson, with 45% of the vote

1992: Lost Democratic presidential primaries to Bill Clinton, finishing second with a nationwide 20% of the vote

1998: Elected Mayor of Oakland with 59% of the vote

2002: Reelected Mayor of Oakland with 63% of the vote

2006: Won Democratic primary for California Attorney General with 63% of the vote

2006: Elected California Attorney General with 56% of the vote

2010: Won Democratic primary for Governor of California with 84% of the vote

2010: Elected as Governor of California with 53% of the vote

"Multinational corporations do control. They control the politicians. They control the media. They control the pattern of consumption, entertainment, thinking. They're destroying the planet and laying the foundation for violent outbursts and racial division."

"The conventional viewpoint says we need a jobs program and we need to cut welfare. Just the opposite! We need more welfare and fewer jobs."

"We have to deal with where we are. We have to create cooperatives, we have to create intentional communities, we have to work for local cooperation where we are."

--Jerry Brown

Silver Truck

We stroll past Southbank Center alongside the Thames and marvel at the volume of concrete. Man, this place ugly in a 1960s sort of way. Southbank's three buildings include the Royal Festival Hall, the Queen Elizabeth Hall and The Hayward art gallery and is Europe’s largest centre for the arts. It attracts three million visitors a year, including this hung-over lot following the New Year parties.

In college we had "the silver truck" parked, from Thursday to Sunday morning, at Wayland Arch nearby the Keeney Quad where I lived freshman year. Students stumbled home from the fraternities or late-night parties and waited sometimes for an hour or more in the sub-freezing cold for a grilled egg or steak sandwich - served in foot-lengths costing three bucks. It was a poor substitute for getting laid and, at Brown, a very popular destination. Those of us with cars sometimes went to Joan's, a trucker stop in downtown Providence opened seven days a week from 10PM until 7AM. Joan an unpleasant, grouchy, mentally disturbed host who swore at her customers : "sit down you fuck'n prick" she might bark at us. Of course we found this uproariously funny though none of the blue collar Joes laughing - Joan's one of the only late-night spots in Providence for a burger or hot cakes following a long day of work.

The other greasy spoon "Louie's Family Restaurant" on Thayer St near campus. Louie and his family deformed and retarded and we college kids always wondered if caused by genetic in-breading or the lead in Providence's water. Their restaurant open as long as any one could remember and during my summers painting houses I often began the day with black coffee and butter grilled bran muffin+jam, an awesome start though within an hour I was in desperate need for sugar or a cigarette. I was usually joined by Eric and Chas since we commuted to Barrington, RI, for the jobs - could those be my best memories? Probably not as I lost ten pounds from the responsibility and the "production vehicle's" engine fell out on the freeway during the height of the season forcing me to find a car in 24-hours which turned out to be an orange Volvo 244 which was a lemon and barely made it to summer's end. But that for another time. Louie's, as far as I know, still serving awful and unhygienic food to this day - keeping the community greasy, baby.

Zebulon

Zebulon in his first year of secondary school at Magdalen College School, associated with Oxford, and founded in 1480. Magdalen ranked the number-one secondary school in Great Britain two years running based on A levels. 

As Zebulon's family moved to Oxford with little notice on Alain's professorship, Zebulon sat the entrance exam with zero preparation which is like taking the SATs without Stanley Kaplan. Naked. He crushed it. Nita tells me Zebulon, in class, gets the hard questions right while suffering the unchallenging maths. His teacher comments on this. Such motivational concerns, I might suggest, a luxury. 

 The boy has a charming curiosity, easy in discourse, and mature for his years. We discuss his favorite subject, geography, and he tells me the regional topographies from last semester. Next year, South America and the Andes. Cool. 

Zebulon, his brothers, and Eitan and Madeleine get on famously and Zebulon treats Madeleine as one of the boys which is tip tops with her. Us parents marvel at their joy and I find them, last night, in their beds, jammed together, 10PM .. reading.

"The merry year is born
Like the bright berry from the naked thorn."

--Hartley Coleridge

1.1.11.11.11

Fired up and ready to kick some ass in twenty-eleven.

We walk to the Tate Modern to see the Gauguin exhibition before it closes this month. Behind me is Ai Weiwei's "Sunflower Seeds," the 11th in the Unilever Series to fill the Turbine Hall (Weiwei best known for his Bird's Nest Stadium at the Beijing Olympics). Sunflower is an inch-thick carpet made of some one-hundred million intricately handcrafted porcelain sunflower seeds, each with its own unique note, delivered to London by the craftsmen of Jingdezhen. When the exhibition opened in October visitors encouraged to walk on the seeds and marvel at the human effort required to complete Weiwei's vision and contemplate each individual seed in .. a sea.. of .. existential .meaningless. Unfortunately the stones rubbing together created dust and the city's health and safety experts suggested that prolonged exposure to the dust could exacerbate conditions like asthma. And I could get hit by a car walking to the Tate. Yet, two days later, the invitation to touch the art revoked.

Madeleine's shoelace catches in the escalator and she has to yank her foot free, twisting her ankle in process. Sonnet and I take turns sitting with her while the others visit Gauguin.

2011 Here She Comes

We spend New Years with Alain and Nita and their three fabulous boys Zebulon (one of the twelve tribes of Israel); Zakkai (In the New Testament, Jesus comes to town looking for an honest man and Zakkai the only one he finds); and Zephyr (The West Wind in the Greek mythology; warm and gentle). The family recently relocated from Tucson, AZ, to Oxford so Alain could teach at Oxford where he has a Professorship of Mathematical Modelling. Nita, meanwhile, earned her PhD in applied Mathematics at Arizona and before that, NYU for her masters in magneto hydro-dynamics - the study of charged fuels like plasmas found in the sun. Fluids can be shaped by magnetics (I learn). Nita, Sonnet and Catherine were "the Smith misfits" who found each other Sophomore year in "the quad" which is "the party center" of campus but did not make room for new comers. "This," Nita says, "why we bonded together."

Photo from AP.

Alex And A Class Action

Alex over-nights to each's amusement.

Moe and I discuss the class-action lawsuit against Wal-Mart, the largest civil rights class-action in US history with 2 million plaintiffs and counting. The charge against Wal-Mart brought by Moe's friend Bud Seligmen who once worked for Guy (Bud is my age). Bud suggests that Wal-Mart has discriminated against women in promotions, pay, and job assignments in violation of Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, Moe explains (Recall, Dear Reader, my father a labor lawyer). Everybody agrees, including Wal-Mart, that the representative case around which the class is built, is, without doubt, sexism. Heavy statistics back up the allegations. Unusually, following ten-years of back and forth trending against Wal-Mart, the case is with the Supreme Court who will decide if the the class action may proceed or broken into smaller regional grievances.

The Supreme Court unusual as a three-judge panel of the Ninth Circuit affirmed the court's class certification (a Big Deal in these case) - Wal-Mart filed a rehearing and a rehearing en bank ("by the full court" or "full bench" - in the Ninth Court's case, an 11 judge subset), contending that the majority committed legal error with regard to whether the grounds for class action certification had been met. The 9th Circuit then withdraw its initial rendering and "beefed up the case" while still supporting the class-action. In April, 2010, the en banc court affirmed the district court's class certification on a 6-5 vote. Wal-Mart's lead appellate counsel, Theodore Boutros, Jr., fumed "it violates both due process and federal class action rules, contradicting numerous decisions of other federal appellate courts and the Supreme Court itself," and indicated that Wal-Mart would appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court. Ted has and now the Supremes to decide. Not surprisingly, conservative commentators have criticized the lawsuit as an abuse of the class action mechanism.

Bud notes to Moe that if the Supreme Court rules against the class certification, his case goes from two million women to six.

Pembroke

We have lunch at the Pembroke Lodge which began life as the mole catcher's cottage in Richmond Park. Hunters wished to hunt without the threat of ..molehills .. tripping them up, you see. The mole catcher's cottage eventually extended into something bigger and given to Elizabeth Herbert, the countess of Pembroke, principal lady-in-waiting to George III. Elizabeth then built further, creating the building today more-or-less. There is a large dining hall with comfy chairs and a number of gardeners rooms and quiet places. In 1847 Queen Victoria granted Pembroke Lodge to prime minister Lord John Russell. In 1854 the Earl of Aberdeen's Cabinet met at Pembroke Lodge and decided to proceed with the Crimean War against Russia. The lodge offers lovely views of the park and Teddington and beyond and is also a lovely spot for a pot of tea.

Eitan: "Gracie, out of ten, how much did you like 'MegaMind' (a cartoon-movie we saw the other day)?
Grace: "About a six."
Eitan: "So you didn't really like it."
Grace: "It's a strong moral tale that blasts in your face. Do you know what a 'moral tale' is?"
Eitan: "It is a message that you should always keep trying and never give up."
Madeleine: "Be very good and not evil."

Grace: "Yes, those are good thoughts."

Eitan: "What do you get when you cross a dinosaur and a pig?"

Me: "What?"

Eitan: "Jurassic pork. Ha ha ha! I get it!"

Eitan: "Why did the crab blush?"

Me: "Enough already."

Eitan. "Because the sea weed."

Me:

Eitan: "I liked the other one better."

Eitan, hiding: "Boo!"

Sonnet: "Ah! Don't ever do that again! You scared the bejesus out of me!"

Me: "That was some excellent positive re-enforcement."

Sonnet: "Grrrr"

Preteen

Every now and again I get a preview of my teenagers. Already the battle-lines forming around their bedrooms - I want it tidy, they want a mess. Usually the cleaner provides the convenient middle-ground and I roll my eyes when their junk goes missing - not my problem where Maria puts their stuff.

Me: "Joe, does your dad do projects around the house?"
Joe:
Me: "Does he curse and scream and holler?"
Eitan: "Looking for a bit of inspiration Dad?"

Sonnet: "Did Eitan and Madeleine have dinner last night?"
Me: "It's a good question. Did you kids have dinner?"
Eitan, Madeleine: "No."
Sonnet: "Jeff!"
Eitan, helpfully: "I was waiting for Dad to make us something."
Me: "You could have asked the baby-sitter."
Eitan: "Busted."

The Curator

And, thank goodness for me, there is Sonnet. Here is Sonnet's professional photo+bio from the web: "Sonnet (Dear Reader) is curator of 20th-century and contemporary fashion at the V&A, a post she has held since 1999. Before joining the V&A, Sonnet worked as a fashion buyer in New York and San Francisco. Sonnet curated the V&A´s recent fashion displays New York Fashion Now (2007) and Ossie Clark (2003) and has coordinated a number of the V&A´s popular Fashion in Motion series, including the catwalk shows of Stella McCartney for Chloé, Hardy Amies and Christian Lacroix. Sonnet has lectured and been published on various aspects of contemporary fashion design and is the author of the book New York Fashion (V&A Publishing, April 2007)." I might add that she has done all of this with a couple of kids and she has met the Queen.

This morning I suggest a museum to get us (the hell) out of the house which receives squeals of protest from the Shakespeares so I give them a choice: we can go by car or we can go by train. They ponder this before choosing the car. To show that I am not without reason, I back off the early contemplated Dulwich Picture Gallery for the Sciences Museum. We park at the V&A and cross the street and have a blast. There is an exhibition on psychology and the mind for Gracie while I tell the kids I wish them to report on a thing with detail. Each has his/her trusty notebook and goes to work with determination. Eitan disappears for an half-hour and, unlike a year or so ago, he is perfectly OK with this (though Madeleine rings her hands in worry).

Madeleine tells me about the Apollo engine used to take the first voyage to the moon. Along with the one we see, the spaceship owned five more. The contraption with its pipes and plugs and chambers otherwise unfathomable. Moe notes that Wherner von Braun wanted to send into orbit trained chimpanzees instead of astronauts which pissed the astronauts off. We get a nice chuckle from this one.

Eitan does "Hackworth's Royal George Locomotive, 1827 (I copy from his notes); Timothy Hackworth (1786-1850); engineer to Stockton and Dartington Railways, 1815 to 1840; Built the locomotive Royal George; Believed Hackworth made 1:16 model to demonstrate to Directors of Stockton and Darlington Railway the soundness of his design."

Madeleine (in the museum's 'Industrial Era'): "Dad, if this was a yard sale, I would love to go."

Madeleine: "What do you think would happen if you licked the dogs face?

Me: "I don't know."

Madeleine: "Well I wouldn't want to do it."

Me:

Madeleine: "Can I watch TV?"

Capping Off The Madness

National Bird

This friendly fellow allows me a snap or two before darting off. He is otherwise a rarity inside The Palm House and makes me wonder : how so?

And, since you ask, Robins are one of the only UK birds heard singing in the garden on Christmas day. This because they hold their territories all year round, defending against intruders with .. song. Males often hold the same territory throughout their lives, and will attack their reflection, mistaking it for another individual. Their melodious voices, along with their "cocky little attitudes," have endeared robin red breasts to the British public, and in 1960 they were crowned the UK's national bird.

Not surprising given, well, that this is Great Britain, bird-watching a national past-time. I was not able to find the hard-data but serious bird-spotters number, easily, in the hundreds of thousands. Just go to the "Birding News" website to find "Bird Alert" where various species spotted and posted to your mobile or wherever - a Black Grouse, for instance, seen at 11:25:00 AM on 27-12-2010 by "Kilgo." Similar sitings noted for the Feldfare, Redwing and Jack Snipe. Nearby is the Barnes Wetland Center whose gift-shop allows the punter to own a full bird-spotting kit complete with camouflage fatigues, wellies and military-rated binoculars; the grounds supply the wooded blinds. Many a time have I been to The Wetlands Center, Shakespeares running amok, to be dressed down by an elderly spotter planted (no doubt) for hours. Who can blame them ?

Potted Plant

This sucker is believed to be the world's oldest potted plant and re-potted at Kew Gardens last year after, "once again," out-growing its pot (this one of 25-years). The huge Jurassic Cycad - or 'Encephalartos altensteninii" to those eccentrically smart Brits - is four-meters, growing 2.5cm a year. It was first "installed" at Kew in '75. 1775, that is. The relocation took three months of planning, five members of staff and a lifting gantry to move the old beast from one pot to the other. The life-expectancy is another 250 years. Do note the poles that prop the plant up - there are four of them.

Arboretum

We visit Kew Gardens, a favorite place, and this the Palm House, pictured, built between 1844-1848 from the cooperation between architect Decimus Burton and iron-founder Richard Turner. As the name might suggest, the building specialised for growing palms and other tropical and subtropical plants. It requires constant heat and built as status symbols in Victorian Britain; several examples of similar ornate glass and iron structures at Liverpool's Sefton and Stanley parks. Back then, the Palm House continued the glass-house design principles developed by John Claudius Loudon and Joseph Paxton (source: Kew Gardens). It was the first to first large-scale structural use of wrought iron : A space frame of wrought iron arches, held together by horizontal tubular structures containing long prestressed cables, supports glass panes which were originally tinted green with copper oxide to reduce the significant heating effect. The 19 meter high central nave is surrounded by a walkway at 9m height, allowing us a closer look upon the palm tree crowns below. We take a twirl.

If you are tired, Dear Reader, of the grey, bleached out, photographs on this blog - join the club. It has been, like, three months since any continuous sunshine. I have the kids on a Vitamin D supplement. Martian Chronicles, dude.

Me: "Chelsea hasn't won a game in their last six. What's up with that?"

Eitan: "They are pooing on their own guts."

Me:

Eitan: "Metaphorically speaking of course."

Madeleine: "Alex, just to warn you, sometimes Rusty humps people."

Gracie And Moe

The Sugar Hill Gang

After an early movie - MegaMind - we cross the street to a pizza joint in Richmond, pictured. I lament the closing of Berkeley's Pirro's, which was the best I ever had (excluding Napoli with Katie and Minoti). Pirro's Pizzeria on Shattuck Avenue opened in '73 and closed in '06 or '05. The same sad, friendly waitress there the entire time and the chefs tossed the dough into the air. The tables red-checkered with dripping candle wax. A coat pole took the over-sized jackets and there could not have been more than 12 tables. I always sat in the same, towards the back. As for the order : salami pie accompanied by blue cheese dressing, some chickpeas and a little green lettuce. Perfecto.

Britain's favorite not pizza. A recent UKTV survey suggests Spaghetti Bolognese, or "spa bol" as it is often stupidly called here, #1. Maybe not too surprisingly half of the Top 10 recipes foreign; celebrity chefs like Jamie Oliver and Delia Smith have also influenced our pallet. Here are the remaining nine, in order:

2. Roast Dinner (Sunday family time)

3. Chile con carne (Weird. The British otherwise hate Mexican)

4. Lasagna

5. Cottage or Sheperd's Pie (Classic)

6. Meat or chicken stir-fry (Gross)

7. Beef casserole (Really gross)

8. Macaroni and cheese (Pathetic)

9. Toad in the hole (Anybody's guess)

10. Curry (England's night cap of choice)

You are what you eat.

Grandma

My parents look, well, like Grandparents to me for the first time. They move a little slower, the hearing is not always there and in other ways they are frail. This is not a bad thing somehow, mind you. With age comes wisdom.

I recall my mom with our Euclid neighbors Loraine and Horace Haynes; Horace debilitated when I knew him, age 10, and made me uncomfortable as his speech unrecognisable though his mind sharp and eyes clear. Grace never acted differently around Horace and, I noticed, used touch often (at the time, this about the last thing I wished to do - touch an old person). Before his stroke, Horace worked for Standard Oil. Loraine and her sister Murial Drury (who lived together) Berkeley stalwarts with stories of the early UC campus and Berkeley fire of '23, which destroyed 584 homes in the North Berkeley Hills, including theirs and ours, both soon rebuilt. Murial's husband Newton Drury involved with the Save-The-Redwoods League which has, since '21, established over 1000 redwood memorial groves in thirty of California's state redwood parks; one grove named after Newton, who served as the league's first Executive Director as well as being the fourth Director of the National Park Service. I have been to the Newton Drury grove in the South Grove of Big Trees State Park.

Me: "What did you and Moe talk about on your walk?"

Madeleine, building a Lego house: "I don't know. Nothing."

Me: "That's it?"

Madeleine:

Me: "You know, talking to your Grandfather is like a great short-cut."

Madeleine: "What do you mean?"

Me: "He can tell you things that will take you many years to figure out. Ever think of that?"

Madeleine: "No, not really. Like what?"

Me: "Well, that is for you to consider. What are the things you wish know? Then ask him."

Madeleine: "Ok. Can I play with my Legos now?"

Me: "Fair enough."

Christmas, Take Two

Christmas, Take One

Eitan and Madeleine follow their tradition of sleeping in the same bedroom Christmas Eve which means not much sleeping. We stay up late wrapping presents and Sonnet later setting the kitchen table and taking care of the final finals. This morning I walk the dog .. or vice versa .. in darkness. The High Street silent - not one coffee shop to satisfy my needs.

The kids rip into their presents like nobody's business - Katie gives them red PJs with their names engraved on the front and their bottoms, which gets a nice guffaw from the Shakespeares. There are electric toothbrushes, a music player, ManU cloths and Alex Rider books; chocolate (of course) and DVDs; stuffed animals; "The History of Manchester United" and Legos .. Thank you everyone, one and all. Moe and Grace watch the action from the couch .. I recall Mary Lou, my Grandmother's Florida friend, remark: "Youth is a feast for the eyes."

Sonnet asks me to chop the goose's wing at the joint, which requires a cutter from my tool box. I find this to be disturbing. Next door, "Singing In The Rain."

Almost Diamond

More "Rusty" love y'all.

Sonnet's parents celebrate their 49th anniversary the day after Christmas. Grace and Moe (who did, in fact, arrive today) enjoyed their 48th on the 21st and will do so again on the 28th .. two ceremonies - one for the Jews and the other for the Protestants. Integrated they were in a very American way : Moe from University City, St Louis, and a reformed Jewish family and Grace, Upper Arlington, Ohio, where my grandfather a Company Man and every house with a two-car garage and no sidewalk. Grace a "wasp" : white Anglo Saxon protestant who, she notes, "everybody hated during the civil rights movement." My parents broke the mold, met in the first Peace Corps, spent three years in Malawi, then Berkeley California.

In the same spirit, Stan and Silver married shortly after meeting each other in Colorado and moved to Anchorage in '64, weeks before The Great Alaskan Earthquake that lasted five-minutes and the most powerful recorded earthquake in U.S. and North American history, and the second most powerful ever measured by seismograph with a magnitude of 9.2. Silver described the ground "melting." Stan a lawyer and Silver an English Professor at University of Alaska - I met a woman at Gare du Nord who took Silver's course "Women's Autobiography" who told me Silver changed her life. Stan and Silver and Moe and Grace found a way to forge a direction unhindered by legacy. Our parents had a sense of adventure and desire for .. something different. And they got it.

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: