Texting

Madeleine and I text in teen speak:
Me: How woz the hike?
Madeleine: Pretty good fam. It was so long. How be Paris?
Me: Sittn me down now on trn. Wish could be at home havn din w u
Madeleine: Yh same. Gots pasta and stuff
Me: Yeps. Goin 2 terminus 4 oysters
Madeleine: Sounds lit
Me: Thinkn o u. Myb snails
Madeleine: Yh defo get some hard core snails

Madeleine: Yo fam can u send me 12 to my card for train?
Me: Yo s/h I st 6 u dig another?
Madeleine: I have no idea what you are saying

9e

A hidden market

Sunday morning up at 6:45AM and since I can't go back to sleep, I run through the marais, across Place de la Republique, where the people gather to mourn or rally, then along an ancient canal that takes me through some pretty rough, but super cool, neighbourhoods. It is .. silent at this hour. A city in repose.

Tell me something you liked about Paris?
Madeleine: "The vintage store." [Dad's note: we found a vintage store next to the Centre Pompidou and went twice]
Me: "Why did you like it?"
Madeleine: "Because it was full of cool clothes."
Me: "What else?"
Madeleine: "Felafels" [Dad's note: In the Jewish quarter in the marais]
Me: "And what else?"
Madeleine: "And the hotel. And art galleries." [Dad's note: Hotel du Petit Moulin in the 9e; various]
Me: "Go on."
Madeleine: "You're pretty much asking me to list every single thing we did in Paris."
Me: "Well do you want to go into any more details."
Madeleine: "No."
Me: "Case closed."

Caen Train Station

I need sugar

Madeleine and I are up early on Saturday, saying good-bye to Sonnet, Eitan and Rusty the dog who drive back to London while we catch a train in Caen for Paris for a weekend together.

Me: "Want to hit the candy shop?"
Madeleine: "You mean the magazine store?"
Me: "Sure."
Madeleine: "Can I get something?"
Me: "How about some pringles ? Or a few candy bars and a bag of gums?"
Madeleine: "This is a joke, right?"
Me: "Dad is on patrol."
[Dad's note: Later I offer Madeleine wine or Champagne over dinner but she refuses]

Sunset On Normandy

Vivre la France!

The past week I have gone on two or three walks a day and usually a run. This balanced by the volumes of bread, cheese, desert and red wine I consume in the evening. 

The village Fontenay Sur Mer could not possibly have more than 20 houses yet 17 boys died in the First World War, commemorated with a tombstone in the church next to our manor house.

The dog goes into action throwing up seawater everywhere. Inside the house.

Morning Run

Jog to Crisbecq Battery

Eitan walks downstairs in his pajamas. It is 12:57PM. Without Sonnet's urging it is likely his first appearance would not be until later. But we have museums to visit ! D Day beaches to see. I order the boy out the door to go running. He moans a bit but off he goes. No vacation without a bit of the drag.

I am in Paris yesterday to show my face at Astorg and discuss the landing path of Astorg VI. It is down the the last 300m.

Grace and Moe are in St Louis visiting Joy, who celebrates 85. Katie makes special T Shirts for the occasion.

Me: "Madeleine, can you imagine what it feels like to be a Dad and to love something more than life itself?"
Madeleine:
Me: "And Rusty has been with us for five years now."
Madeleine: "I saw that one coming a mile away."

Fontenay-Sur-Mer Encore

Eitan studies geography

We arrive at a familiar spot in Normandy and ask ourselves - a year gone by ? The 16th Century manor unchanged except for a few improvements made by Mog since our last visit. This time round we bring Rusty who survives the six hour drive without complaint. Once here, he chases a cat up a tree, oh happy as a dog can be. In fact, we are all happy to celebrate spring's arrival in a place we hold dear and together. 

Eitan and Madeleine's joy tempered by school revision. Their books spread along the floor in different rooms across the house. Eitan is on the flightpath to the all-consuming GCSEs adding a constant low level anxiety. We can no longer tell him to study but, boy, we can sure suggest it.

Sonnet brings home three kinds of cheese and a bunch of salamis from the local farmers market.

Madeleine:
Me: "What?"
Madeleine: "You're not chewing with your mouth shut."
Me: "There are worse things a fella could do, Madeleine."
Madeleine: "Such as?"
Me: "Lock you up under the stairs and throw away the key."
Madeleine: "Right"
Me: "Don't press your luck kid."

Cat In A Tree

One pissed off cat

Rusty chases a cat up a tree.

Madeleine: "Dad! We can't just leave the cat up there. He'll starve."
Me: "Why not just shake some cat food at him? That'll bring him down."
Madeleine: "Can't you get a ladder or something?"
Me: "Let's just throw rocks at it. That's what everybody else does."
Madeleine: "You are so cruel."
Me: "Survival of the fittest."
Madeleine: "Can you at least climb the tree? To get him, I mean?"
Me: "For Pete's sake, Madeleine, it's a cat. If it doesn't land on its feet he has nine lives."
Madeleine: "I am never talking to you again."

Friday Night Lights

Pre show

I catch Madeleine, Friday evening, at the Battersea Arts Centre for the continuing engagement of 'Cloud 9'. Our gal gives an electric performance to an energised audience who hoot and holler.

Me: "Break a leg."
Madeleine:

Eitan at the dinner table anxious to go to a party.
Me: "Linx effect?"
Eitan:
Madeleine: "It's Adidas."
Sonnet: "I'll take you when you're ready to go."
Eitan: "Thanks, mom."
Me to Madeleine: "Well, just us. On a Saturday night."
Madeleine: "OMG. It's so lame."
Me: "Yeah, think how I must feel?"
Madeleine: "Oh, Dad."
Me: "Hey we can play a board game."
Sonnet: "I know, Candy Land !"
Madeleine: "I am definitely excused now."

New Digs

Francois is a deal maker for Astorg

Astorg will shortly move from Berkeley Square to new offices on St James's Square, a quiet central London location not far from Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Sq, yet protected from the noise and bustle. 

Our space will face the square from the sixth floor, providing a nice view from above the treeline and plenty of sunshine as we face west. Neighbours are BP and Rio Tinto as well as the East India Club and the Military and Naval Club so often in Master & Commander. Eisenhower led the allied campaign against the Germans from Norfolk House.

The building refurb'd and we get to decide the specs. Francois, Stephane and I will have offices facing the park; the remaining space will accommodate a further ten or so in a bullpen format. Plus conference rooms, a small kitchen and a reception area.

Decisons

Sonnet offered a comfortable six figure salary at a leading art museum in North Carolina. We inform the kids that we shall remain in London and, so, Eitan dodges a bullet.  Madeleine disappointed to miss out on the American high school experience. I tell her she has her whole life to live in California.

How easily the Shakespeare's little worlds can be spun around, poor dears. I recall lying in my bedroom, Saturday afternoon, about Eitan's age, reading comics when Moe interrupted my thoughts to inform me he was leaving his firm to form a new one : Schacter, Kristoff, Orenstein & Berkowitz. I was interested but really more involved with my comics to pay it much mind. This momentous occurrence for my father a non event for me: I was in safe hands and knew it.

Meanwhile in Paris, we have another closing on Astorg VI, taking us close to our goal of €2 billion. Inshallah.

Stella Lucy

Stella and Lucy

We reunion at the VA with Lucy (right) and Stella and Lucy's mother, who are visiting London. Lucy a DJ who gigs across the US. No doubt she is amazing. Stella, meanwhile, is a 'reader' and explains, in the Raphael Cartoon gallery, the ancient Trojan wars, which she is studying in school. She is 10.

I know the family from my dear bigger than life friend Steve, who was a formidable sprint freestyler. We spent hours in a pool together. Their wedding, in Dallas, Texas, the largest I have been to : ceremony at the depression era state house, reception at the MOMA. 700+ people. Dixie Chicks.

I happen to have a pair of goggles in my bag I give to Stella to give to Steve.

Madeleine: "Emma [Will's mum] asked if you were the Gordon Ramsey type." [Dad's note: Dad makes dinner].
Me: "And?"
Madeleine: "You're not really Gordon Ramsey."
Me: "Come on, I can make a good salad." [Dad's note: Dad makes a salad]
Eitan: "Like the time you used a garbage bag?" [Dad's note: Dad made Roger's Houston taco salad which requires mixing ingredients in a garbage bag]
Me: "You remember that one, don't you."
Madeleine, Eitan: "Yes."
Me: "But it was pretty good."
Madeleine: "Eitan didn't want to eat it."
Me:
Madeleine: "Garbage bag Dad."

Sunny Days

Self portrait XXXXVIII

Spring is here and I have my groove back. Without Sonnet it could not have happened.

Sonnet offered a six figure job in the US, which we decide against, notifying the kids once a fait accompli. This was several months ago. Madeleine all for it - she is disappointed, in fact, not to be going to an American high school. Eitan realises he dodged a bullet. As ever, the boy must understand change before actioning it.

We attend the Director's Circle dinner at the VA with the good and the great. Or at the least the very rich who donate their support to the museum. It is an elegant affair with a formal table stretching 30 meters inside the somber statue gallery facing the John Madejski garden in the centre of the museum. John gave the VA £2m in 2005 to create the sanctuary. I sit across from him discussing the VA's FuturePlan, his daughter to my right.

Sonnet in Moscow for the weekend and meets the cultural minister for the City of Moscow and the Director of the Gulag Museum. She gives a presentation to the State Museum.

Leg Of Lamb

Rusty wants in on the action. Poor guy.

Since its pouring rain I stair out at the backyard and drink coffee. Sure I have work to do but somehow I feel like a break has been earned. Astorg will close around €1.7bn next week so what could be more urgent?

Me: "You have so much ahead of you, you don't even realise it."
Madeleine:
Me: "You don't know anything about love. Or having your heart broken, do you?"
Madeleine: "Nope."
Me: "Well, it's coming kid."
Madeleine: "Gee, thanks Dad."

Collar Bone Break

Madeleine takes a codeine

So it is a Bank Holiday Weekend which can only mean one thing: Rain and cold. And so it is.

The drama begins Wednesday afternoon (school out, spring break) when Madeleine trips on a football and down she goes, snapping her collar bone on the fall. The ambulance arrives in three minutes (God bless the NHS) and Madeleine to the A&E for the second time in a month (prior, an asthma attack). Sonnet arrives as they wheel our hero into the hospital, accompanied by pal Aiden and six or so worried friends.

The collar bone one of those awkward breaks since impossible to cast. It also hurts like a mother f***er. I broke mine on the Washington Elementary schoolyard playing dodge-ball in the 3rd grade.  I remember it like yesterday.

Madeleine grits it out with determination and codeine. She's been in bed the last three days, watching repeats of Modern Family. I've encouraged our brainiac to read and she is now into David Nicholls' "One Day." We have been listening to podcast "Serial" together.

I tell her it is a date: Me and her. I could not ask for anything more on Easter weekend. Madeleine might think different here.

Break Out

Lemme outta here !

The dog left for 2 hours at the dog groomer. He's not happy about it, either.

At masters swimming this morning I meet a guy about my age who turns out to be from Acalanes, where he went to HS. Acalanes shared a water polo rivalry with Berkeley High School and, while I wasn't a water polo player, we connect many friends including Steve, Adam and others.  Patrick played for the Cal with Matt Biondi in 1986, the year the Bears won the NCAA title.  Now we're swimming laps together at St Paul's in Barnes.

Richmond Morning

I take the loyal pooch for a walk in Richmond Pk and am greeted by morning fog and unexpected beauty. The miracle of it all. The dog don't care: a few squirrel chases, a long piss, and a roll in the deer scented tall grass. Rusty keeps it real.

Eitan up and out - football match v. Kings College Wimbledon - followed by Madeleine (theatre workshop). Sonnet back last night from a conference in Edinburgh and I return from Paris. Well, it is not what I would have imagined but at least we are together most evenings for dinner. Sometimes.

Me: "Madeleine we have to talk about sugar" [Dad's note: I find a half-empty bag of gums in the kitchen].
Madeleine: "I know Dad. Do we have to talk about it again?"
Me: "You are what you eat. Sugar changes your body. Believe it." 
I absent mindedly eat the candy in front of Madeleine. Madeleine:
Me: "Starting tomorrow."

V&A - Directors Circle

Cast Court

We have our quarterly meeting of the V&A's Directors Circle, led by Nicholas Coleridge who became the museum's Chair in November 2015 (when not moonlighting at the V&A, Nic is the President of Conde Nast International). The Directors Circle raises the dough for upcoming exhibitions and events or general funds - the musuem's annual budget is about £70m of which half comes from commercial activities and donations. We are now pursuing a large gift in return for the naming of the new entrance on Exhibition Road. £5 million cheap.

After our meeting, which includes update presentations from the curators on FuturePlan (futuristic everything) and designer Balenciaga (my otherwise quiet neighbour gushes about her Balenciaga which she wears now, of course), we head for the Cast Court for drinks.

And the Cast Courts are seriously amazing, perhaps my favourite thing inside the V&A. First opened in 1873, the Cast Courts were purpose built to house one of the most comprehensive collections of casts of post-classical European sculpture. Pictured. I meet the new head of Sculpture, Metalwork, Ceramics & Glass Department who promises me a tour of the court's balconies - otherwise untouched by visitors for a century and a throwback to the Victorian era. It is really Indiana Jones kind of stuff.

How honoured I am to be on the inside of a spectacular remarkable British institution. It is to Sonnet I bow.

Rusty Leads

Rusty has a walk

Five years along and nothing learned. And then there is the dog.

Sonnet attends an informational evening to introduce the US college application process to (insane) British and ex-pat parents (mothers).  Sonnet notes that the SATs have been completely revamped and the advisers recommend taking the ACTs as well as the SATs to provide full coverage and reduce any uncertainty from the new SAT format. One can never be too careful about one's future.

I took the ACTs (then known as The Achievement Exams or simply "The Achievements") once, on a Saturday morning in 1984, next to Hinks department store in Berkeley. I chose three subjects, didn't prepare, and never looked back. The SATS another story - Stanley Kaplan, lost afternoons to horrible practise tapes - but even then the preparation barely minimal. Back then it was rare to get a perfect score; today it is de riguerir for the tutored classes.

And one pretty much does have to get a perfect SAT when Stanford accepts 5.1% and the Ivies are generally below 10%.

Canada has it about right: no entrance exam, no recommendations and it is cheaper. Canadians happy in college and thereafter.

Hockey Action

Maddy O chases the ball.

Emanuel's A team takes on Ibstock School at the Bank of England, going down 2-zero in a hard fought match that sees our gals out-gunned in the second half. Afterwards each side gives the other two 'hips' and a 'hooray!' followed by chocolate chip cookies.

Madeleine: "It felt so good to yell out there today."
Me: "At home you're 'Madeleine Orenstein', the nerd lost behind her books."
Madeleine:
Me: "But on the pitch it's "Maddy O", dragon of fire, fierce and determined athlete."
Madeleine: "Yeah."
Me: "You've developed a bit of a reputation, you know."
Madeleine:
Me: "Everybody knows your name."

Me And Eitan

Sonnet and I now frequently reflect on the reality that the Shakespeares will soon be gone. As every parent must agree, these little people who we have watched from the beginning become so interesting. And in a heartbeat our chapter will be over and their book will begin.

Barnes SC And DofE

Eitan prepares for the Duke of Edinburgh 

I have joined the Barnes Swim Club. Practises are in the evenings from 8-9:30PM so not practical but the weekends are 10:30AM for two hours. So, after 28 years, I complete my first workout of 4.5km. As I tell Jan, a New Zealander who trained for 18 months in Ft Lauderdale and now in London and cut like Adonis: "I preferred the old model" when it comes to me. I keep up with him using flippers. At this age, I could care less about etiquette.

Eitan comes in late Friday night and so unable to pack for his D of E overnight "survival" in Surrey. The temperatures around zero and sleeting and I have to force him to take my heavy winter jacket. In the car I ask if he's got his credit card? and he shrugs no way. Some things must be learned the hard way I suppose.

Madeleine: "Can I have some money for dinner?" [Dad's note: Madeleine has some friends over for dinner]
Me: "How much?"
Madeleine: "forty pounds."
Me: "What? When I was your age I never asked for $60 dollars for dinner."
Madeleine: "Yeah because that was like 50 years ago."
Me: "It's a fair point."
Madeleine: "It's my turn anyway. To pay for dinner."
Me: "What does Mom say?"
Madeleine: "40."
Me: "I'll transfer it now. Moe would never approve."
Madeleine:
Me: "Now is when I say 'money doesn't grow on trees.'"
Madeleine: "Whatever Dad. Can you just do it now?"

Lord Of The Flies

Eitan is Ralph

Eitan is "Ralph" in the school class play "Lord Of The Flies". It's a long showing, to, or about 45 minutes which means the small cast must know their lines. Cold. Eitan is admirable in the lead role, which he is somehow suited for.

From Cliff's Notes: Ralph. The elected leader of the boys and the main protagonist. He is neither the smartest nor the strongest but has a kind of quiet charisma and good looks. He tries to keep the boys focused on domestic order and the rules of civilization but loses his authority and almost his life to Jack's seizure of power.

The boy is happy when it is done.

Shake It Up

Katie celebrates with her friends Lisa Witter and Jacki Zehner, the CEO of Women Moving Millions, at the WMM gala last summer (WMM mission statement: "To catalyse unprecedented resources for the advancement of women and girls"). Peas in a pod.

Eitan: "I have an overnight. For the Duke of Edinburgh." [Dad's note: The Duke of Edinburgh's Award (known as DofE) is for those of 14 - 24 years and has three award levels: Bronze, Silver and Gold, based on volunteering, physical, skills and expedition. It is not milquetoast]

Madeleine: "You're camping?"

Eitan: "Yeah. We are testing our survival skills."

Me: "By 'survival' do you mean 'time between trips to McDonald's?'"

Sonnet: "Don't listen to your father."

Me: "Just make sure you take a credit card."

Eitan: "Why should I take a credit card."

Me: "Isn't this about survival?"

Eitan: "Yeah."

Me: "So take a credit card. Tesco is your oyster."

Eitan:

Me: "Well I'm glad that's sorted."

Godzilla Rises

Today is Super Tuesday in the US and we are all interested in Trump, whose fat face is about everywhere. The Republicans have created him, they deserve him, and God hope he does not become the next US president. Interestingly Bernie Sanders polls better against Trump than Clinton - not surprising, I suppose, given the shrinking Middle Class like a bunch of angry hornets. They are pissed off at the status quo, Washington and mainly the Republican party who has delivered them nothing. They don't want an insider like Hillary or Rubio who might actually be able to govern. No, they want blood.

Because of Trump, Senate seats that should not be contested are suddenly in play. The Senate not helping itself by failing to meet any proposed SCJ nomination by Obama to replace that fuck Scalia and his anti-gay, anti-choice, pro-gun, Citizens United court. 

The waters have been poisoned for many years and now Godzilla rises from the radioactive muck.

Surf's Up

So, in fact, Madeleine turned 14 earlier this month. Her birthday present a 7' surf-board, for which she campaigned following a family week spent in Marina Del Mar, Oceanside, California in December where the kid stood up. Pictured.

There is, I am aware, good surfing in England - mainly in Devon and Cornwall (about 5 hours drive from London) - but the water is typically below 60 degrees and requires a 4/3 density suit, booties, gloves and a hoodie to be tolerable. The water coldest in the first quarter but such things no deterrent for our surfer girl, who begs me to take her for a weekend or longer. It will come if only to ensure she uses here present once.

Madeleine via text about something: Thankyoooooooo❤️
Immediate follow up: Emoji unintended

Madeline text: Can you do me a favour? Because I don't know how the printer works can u print off 3 different versions of McBeth witches for me?

I send Madeleine a text photo of Vermeer's 'Girl With A Pearl Ear Ring."
Madeleine text response: That's a cool painting Dad.

English National Cross Country Championships

Eitan and I head north to Leicester for the English x-country nationals, the culmination of the season and a lot of hard work. We enjoy a pleasant enough ride along the M1, stopping for refreshments and to pick up the "Planet Of The Apes" cd which we listen to along the way. We chat about various things and he graciously accepts my views on training, racing etc. though he outgrew my advise some long time ago.

We stay at classy Best Western hotel with, weirdly, a Marco Pierre White restaurant which suggests strongly that the chef's franchise has fallen off the shelf. Anyways, it's Friday night, and the town is dressed up and ready to drink. Tomorrow the hotel hosts a "fancy wedd'n" (our receptionist gushes) "which is Medieval themed".

The boy and I turn out the lights early, then up at 7AM (me) and 9AM (Eitan) then to Donington Park where the 4.5km course is a circle loop around an ancient castle. Of note, there is a serious hill at the 2km mark. Paula Radcliffe has won the race a number of times as has Mo Farah. Good company.

The event is organised like a thumb over a smooth stone.  Eitan's U15s hosts 500+ boys who line up across a combed field. Bang, they're off, narrowing quickly to a single 'shoot', huffing and puffing and sprinting for position. Eitan is in the mix, up front.

Our hero runs a solid race, about 75th at the half and around the same at the end. He is pleased with his performance. We hit McDonald's on the drive home.

Purisma Creek

Roger and I hike the Purisma Creek Redwoods Reserve, on the western slopes of the Santa Cruz Mountains overlooking Half Moon Bay. The canyon offers towering redwoods, a rushing creek and understory of ferns, berries and wildflowers. Coastal scrub and hardwood forests of tanoak, madrone and Douglas fir border the cool, moist canyon. Since rain, damp and brooding.

BOX

The last we saw Roger, Box had gone public and now we see the fruits of the IPO: a shiny new building in Redwood City straight out of a Stanley Kubrick movie with automatic industrial lighting, painted walkways with coded numbers identifying offices and conference rooms and immaculate white work stations (desks which can be raised for standing).  Lunch and drinks still free. The self-serve snack-bar 24/7. Keg on every floor. Since an Internet company, there is a nap room. I want in.

Roger's team responsible for the partnership'n and revenue generat'n. His team multi-national which means Indian. I am certain they have a good time. Roger's style, afterall.

At the Hertz car rental at Oakland Airport. 

Agent: "What's your postal code. For the credit card."
I offer my postal cod.
Agent: "What kind of a postal code is that?"
Me: "It's in London."
Agent: "You live in London?"
Me: "Yes. Since 1997."
Agent: "Why'd you move to London?"
Me: "It's either a job or a girl."

Agent, pondering a moment: "Well, which one was it ?"

Me: "A girl."
Agent: "Damn straight." He offers his hand and we shake.

A Gathering

Sonnet and her cousins in Denver on the sad news of Bill Stanfill's passing. Missing from the photo is Derek.

Confederates

Confederate Flag, Confederate War Cemetery, Raleigh, NC

Two battles outside of Raleigh at the Civil War's end, Averasboro and Bentonville, flooded the capital with wounded to the point that private residents were taking in soldiers. The battle of Averasboro was meant to slow General Sherman and his fire-happy troops, who had just torched Georgia and made their way north through South Carolina uncontested.

500+ unknown tombstones.

Party Night

Meanwhile, back in London, Eitan invited to an evening affair, suit required. The Boy hits the High Street and finds himself a suit from a charity shop for £7.50.  With my tie, looking pretty good. Rusty agrees.

Now in Berkeley, I do a five mile out-and-back on Wild Cat Canyon Road at sunrise.

Cross Country

Ocean Pacific

My rest of week takes me on a tour of American cities and small airports : Columbus, Ohio (where I visit my mother's childhood house in Upper Arlington and charm the Ohio State gal who let's me swim at the athletic aquatic centre); Springfield, IL (home of Lincoln and a working town; my hotel - a Hilton - 30 stories, cities tallest by 25, with steak restaurant on floor 30), Austin, Texas, Phoenix AZ (I stay at the Frank Lloyd Wright designed Biltmore; 6AM sunrise jog followed by some some lap swimming) and San Diego, just in time for sunset - Pictured.

In La Jolla I try to find the cove for an ocean swim to a buoy and back - something I did in swimming camp, 1983 - but, alas, the the waves coming in at 7 or 8 feet.

Donal Trump and his mischief everywhere.

CAM

Sarah Cain: The Imaginary Architecture of Love

Sonnet and I visit the Raleigh Contemporary Art Museum, which has an exhibition on Joseph Mitchell and the Big Ears music festival in North Carolina. It doesn't really work, but I do buy a couple books by Mitchell.

"Joseph Mitchell was a devoted Brooks Brothers suit-and-fedora man. Between 1938 and 1965 he became one of the most influential writers in The New Yorker magazine’s history. Using fabled, lean prose, he chronicled the city’s fading neighborhoods, fish markets, overgrown cemeteries, and abandoned hotels, people and places bypassed by mainstream culture. In 1964, after the publication of his seminal work Joe Gould’s Secret, Mitchell stopped publishing. He reported to The New Yorker’s offices everyday without submitting another piece. Yet he kept wandering. Instead of chronicling voices, he collected abandoned objects—19th-century door knobs, scraps of housing trim, keys, and nails. In his small Manhattan apartment, he squirrelled away remnants from the world he’d written about, before it was gone."

Back home, an under-floor kitchen gas leak discovered by the engineers replacing the street's Victorian metal gas pipes with plastic. Lucky to find it. 

Brad

UNC campus

I spend a wonderful day with old London friend Brad Ives, who is Associate Vice Chairman for Campus Enterprise at the University of North Carolina. He basically oversees everything including the coal powered plant which supplies the UNC's gas power.  His budget: $175 million, with a team of 650 University employees and 450 contracted employees. He is also University’s Chief Sustainability Officer.

Prior, Brad was NC Assistant Secretary to Natural Resources responsible for the State Parks, Zoo, Aquariums, Museum of Natural Sciences & Marine Fisheries. He led passage of state law regulating siting of wind farms to address military flights and migratory bird patterns.

In short, Brad has changed his environment, he has had an impact. And pretty cool, too.

He shows the Triangle and we visit NC State, Duke and UNC. He exudes knowledge and pride, having grown up in a small town in North Carolina and attending UNC undergrad on a Moorhead Cain scholarship.

Modern Art

What the hell?

I like it!

Raleigh Museum

North Carolina Museum of the Arts

Catching up a bit here, I depart London last week on Thursday for Charlotte, SC, and a bunch of meetings followed by a flight to Raleigh where I meet .. Sonnet for the weekend.  We visit a bunch of museums, go for some walks through Raleigh, enjoy each others company. 

Climate Talks

I am in Paris this week and the security visible : Gendarmes on every corner with automatic machine guns, batons and body armour - and not only in the 8th, the wealthiest of arrondisments and where the Élysée Palace is located along with the French the government. The rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, le plus à la mode, has barely any pedestrians when I arrive in the morning time, though things more alive in the evening. The mood however is overall glum.

Yet cheered up by Barack Obama who is in Paris for the kick-off of the climate talks and the last chance to save the planet. We are off to an auspicious start as Obama's motorcade of 20 town-cars and SUVs rumble along the street outside Astorg's offices.

Me: "What do you think of global warming?"

Eitan: "Pretty terrible."

Me: "Do you know about the Paris climate conference?"

Eitan: "Uh, no. Why?"

Me: "Because it effects you. Do you think about it?"

Eitan: "Not really."

Me: "Fair enough. But it's coming."

"Don't sit back and wait for them to attack us."

--David Cameron presents his reason to bomb ISIS

A Final Thanksgiving

Madeleine post theatre. DDG

We celebrate Thanksgiving today, Sunday, with Halley, Willem, Ava and Zoe. Their family continues to achieve as Willem in his second year running Oxford's mindfulness centre while Ava now on the Arsenal U15s girls squad (training with the U17s) and Zoe has her interview at Oxford. I give her a mock interview and try to twist her knickers but she handles herself beautifully. Halley keeps it all moving forward with a steady hand.

Eitan stumbles in late to dinner having captained the Lions to victory over Dundonald Juniors FC 6-nil. Saturday it was Hampton defeating the Harrodian School 5-nil.

Urban Kids

Clapham Junction

There is no doubt that Eitan and Madeleine are city kids. It is difficult to appreciate how different this is from the California I grew up in and they know from holiday visits to Berkeley or the mountains. My experiences as a youngster - swimming, walking to Telegraph Ave to buy comics, Cal football, hot tubs - may be completely irrelevant to what they experience now. 

But somehow I doubt it.

Madeleine's Theatre

Thanksgiving II

From Richmond Park and Eitan's race, I dash to the Battersea Arts Centre to see Madeleine's theatre production "Cloud9". Eitan joins me against his will but soon warms to the inevitability of his circumstances.

Cloud9 described in the program as "exploring the themes of escapism and loneliness in our increasingly cyber world. How does the internet work? What does it mean to be forever connected? Has loneliness become taboo? These are some of the questions we want to ask."

Madeleine is surrounded by, truly, the coolest troupe one could imagine. In school, I can imagine them as the eccentrics or odd balls but, on stage, they are natural, connected, powerful. Madeleine has been working her tail off, too, practising with the crew all week until 9PM, arriving home and crashing to bed.

Madeleine's  two minute monologue, "The Magnet", steels the show in this writer's opinion. She delivers without a hiccup, cool as a cucumber. I have not seen nor heard a rehearsal at home. I am further amazed to learn she wrote the script.

Throughout, Madeleine does an admirable job avoiding eye contact with me, Eitan and Veronica (our wonderful Czech au pair) and only at the end does she give me a direct smile. She is proud of herself, and I could not be more proud of her.

Sonnet, who arrives from Brighton where she delivers a lecture on "Fashion and Design", joins us for dinner at Valentina, a family favourite in East Sheen.

Thanksgiving

Richmond borough cross country championships

On an ordinary day, Friday, I have one of the bast days of my life.

I head to the office for a number of calls, per usual, and manage to do a run along the Thames at lunchtime (per usual). Eitan is competing the Borough Champs, which I have attended six years running, and I must dash to Richmond Park to catch him at the start-line of the 3k course.

With little ceremony, bang, the boys are off. Eitan passes the half-way mark with pain on his face, eyes blinded, and the look of a wild animal being chased for dear life. He is in the lead pack but just barely, and I think: "one of those days." But then on the second loop to the finish line there he is, relaxed and in control. His stride changed and body powerful, moving in rhythm.

Eitan has a masterful race finishing 2nd and qualifying for the Middlesex Championships. He is so pleased with his performance, and I watch as his friends hug him in congratulations. All smiles. He even lets me in his space and seeks my approval, which I give with a nod and private thumbs up. Eitan let's me take a few pictures without the usual embarrassment and resistance. Then we drive home together discussing the race details, strategy, tactics, etc. That's my kid.

Eitan and Zac, who is the No. 2 triathlete in Britain for his age group and a friend and healthy rival at the Hampton School

Rep Night

Super Mom

Sonnet takes her Hampton School "class rep" role seriously (sort of) and organises a holiday drinks at a local pub that is inconveniently hosting a "quiz night" meaning it is unusually crowded and most tables reserved. Oh, well. And traffic murder given a 150 yr old Edwardian house in Barnes collapses as the owner builds a basement, closing a main road and causing commuter havoc (the house BTW valued at £3.8m and its hard to feel sorry for the poor bastard who has disrupted our neighbourhood for his vanity project).

But I digress.  We catch up on all the local gossips from Hampton School (a rare thing since Eitan shares a few grunts when queried). On campus, the boys rebelling against a school mandate for iPads, now required from January 1, despite the majority of Eitan's year not wishing them. Eitan is pretty fired up by the cause and has talked to the head teacher and, with other boys, organised a petition against the distracting and costly devices. The boys also irked that the decision taken without their consultation. Good for them.

Meanwhile, France declares war on ISIS, supported by the British, and the bombing begins. Only too soon will this battle arrive on our doorstep. It is already here.

The Vaccines

And like that it is Saturday morning, late November, post Thanksgiving (which we will celebrate tomorrow with Halley, Willem, Zoe and Ava - who is in London today playing for Arsenal when not on the England squad. More on that later).

This past week sees yours, truly, in London sans travel reminding me of the importance of routine and just being around for the family.

Sonnet and I take advantage by going to a double header of the Palma Violets and the Vaccines at Brixton Academy on Monday with Oliver and Carol, dressed in flare bottom jeans and leather boots. The concert rocks and, dear reader, I admit to ear-plugs BUT the all embracing sensations are hardly diminished. Thank you Christian for the tickets and our shared joy of (British) music. Of course he has met both bands in LA.