Fancy Footwork

The Boy takes his football seriously- here before Saturday's game play. This time Eitan advances the winning goal on a cross-field kick which sales 25 meters before belted into the goal box by a striker (ie, bigger kid). The opportunity follows a pick-and-run manoeuvre which sets up the play. Eitan remains true to his pee-wee league and sometime soon he will have to move up to a club with inter-team and greater competition. For now, he resists and enjoys his friends and his comfort zone.

Led Zeppelin?

The kids get guitars and oh boy. Madeleine asks Eitan if he wants to form a rock band and the two bang away relentlessly. Otherwise, lessons begin this week. Sonnet and I held ground BTW against a drum set or electric anything. Last night we join Tabitha and Dave for Tabitha's 20th Twelfth Night party and our seventh. We visit our old stomping grounds Maida Vale, which looks fabulous with its stately white mansion blocks and unusual Grand Union Canal. Was this where the adventure began - 11 years ago? (and: am I really this old?) We see lots of friendly faces and people we have not been with since last year's party and it is a nice way to put a Wrap on the Festive Season.

Otherwise, 2008 begins in earnest as the kids return to footie, swim team (Eitan) and performance class (Madeleine) plus birthday parties over the weekend and tennis and Spanish during the week. Phew, no wonder Sonnet and I are in bed by 10PM. I am excited about Barack in Iowa and now follow the primaries with enthusiasm - we need this guy in the White House. Cal won their bowl game on the 31st, but that is way last-year. We all look forward to a good one.

VA

Here is Sonnet's professional photo - glam gal, for sure (Madeleine asks me yesterday if she is famous). The V&A Museum is the world's largest for decorative arts and design, housing a permanent collection of over 4.5 million objects. Founded in 1852, the V&A has since grown to now cover 12.5 acres and 145 galleries. Its collection spans 5000 years of art, from ancient times to the present day, in virtually every medium, from the cultures of Europe, North America, Asia and North Africa. Sonnet, of course, is the Fashion Curator. It is nice to know when visiting that she owns a part of it.

Happy Happy

Cousin Susan sends me a photo from Charleston - and was their transition to a new city difficult? Joey suggests not at all.

Eitan and Madeleine are up early and excited to see their classroom chums - school returns today. Unlike them, I drag my feet following a late night (ok, 10PM) dinner with neighborhood friends Karen and Andrew, whose oldest is in Madeleine's class and an after-school pal. Over dinner we discuss teachers, birthday parties, play-date strategies and etc. Man, from the outside, it is one dull conversation but for us, nothing could possibly be more interesting. Andrew is an investor with a UK buy-out firm while Karen has recently returned to work, helping her Canadian company establish a UK m&a operation. The temperatures have nose-dived and we expect snow - Richmond has kindly shoveled sand and grit on the streets and sidewalks. Expect chaos.

Madeleine and I agree that she will read books at home with me in return for Carmel Chew Chew ice cream (it's not a bribe - I like to think of it as a reward). This morning she resists before agreeing to "one page. And with mom."

Wordsworth

Madeleine: "Dad, was I actually raised by wolves?"

I ask: "What do you want to do when you are older?"
Madeleine: "I want to see the world because mostly I've been around the block."
Eitan: "I want to explore the jungle - I've never even seen a lion. Like Tarzan."

What do you want to do in the New Year?
Eitan: "Go to Legoland. The Trampoline. Get loads of candy floss"
Madeleine: I want to go to Bath, make New Years decorations with me, daddy and Eitan. Go Roller blading."

Eitan's 2008 goal: "Be as good a footballer as Ronaldo (who plays for Manchester United and one of the best in the world). Or Wayne Rooney. Or Ronaldino. And Scholes.

Eitan to Sonnet, on her second burrito: "Take it easy, mom!"

Eitan, after I prompt him to tell a joke: "You don't think anything funny that I think is funny!"

Eitan: "Daddy, If I hear one more new rule from you, it's banishment!"

"Books-O-Rama!" Eitan exclaims, when Sonnet asks about bedtime reading

"Listen guys: I.. .. Have . . ... Had... It!"
Sonnet

Eitan, gleefully, with his new "Wacky Carols": "See- this one stinks!" (shoving card in my face)

Sonnet to Madeleine: "You do not give presents you do not want to your friends."
And further: "You do not ask for a gift nor expect one for giving one."
And Finally: "You do not wrap that toy if it is broken!"

Stone

Yesterday, in front of The War Museum and some Portland stone.

How can I forget one of our early Saturdays when Sonnet and I toured Trafalgar Square to study this noble rock? It was us and the Old Age Pensioners, for sure.

For those who wish to wonder: Portland stone is limestone from the Jurassic period quarried on the Isle of Portland, Dorset. The quarries include white-grey limestone separated by chert beds. The limestone is lovingly extracted by hard toil and tears and is used extensively throughout the UK - notably in major public buildings in London such as St Paul's and Buckingham Palace.

It is also exported: Portland stone is the United Nations in New York, for example. Further, all gravestones for British soldiers killed in the First and Second World Wars are made out of Portland stone. However these began to weather and detail such as the regimental badges were becoming difficult to view and the Commonwealth War Graves Commission began to use botticino a white marble limestone from about 1998. Three main "Portland Beds" are quarried. The Base and Whitebed are fine textured and contain few fossil remains, and so are popular for high quality work (the fossils may be otherwise visible. The Roach bed is rougher with many visible fossils - we ooh and ahh at the clam shells visible in the columns of St. Martins in the Fields Church.

That Tooth

Eitan proudly shows his dislodgement. His other babies are now mis-aligned - perhaps future orthadonture? Let's hope not. For now we'll just say he's looking very English. On a practical note, he receives £2 from the Tooth Ferry.

It's reported today in The Times that the "colonisation" of the middle classes of the best state schools has led to a dramatic widening of the gap in educational performance between the rich and poor children in the past year. The government report shows that the achievement divide between pupils in the 10% richest and poorest areas of England has grown by more than ten percentage points compared with fractional increases in previous years. The figures show that the attainment gap between rich and poor continues to widen as pupils progress - at age 7, the gap widens to 20 percentage points in 2007 and 43% by 16 - suggesting that far from being a leveller, school is increasing the disparity. Michael Gove, the Shadow Education Secretary, notes that the system favours those fortunate enough, or rich enough, to live in areas with good schools - pupil performance in the richest areas had improved at twice the rate that it had deteriorated in poor areas. An additional explanation of the sudden widening of the gap may be the influx of immigrants who do not have English as a first language. Are we then surprised by Britain's yob culture with Europe's highest rates of teenage drinking and pre-marital sex/ pregnancy?

Yester-Year

Photo from May 2001, before Madeleine is with us. Eitan loses his middle tooth two days ago while we rough-house - it was snaggle for several weeks and awaiting a hard delivery, which I gave with my forearm. We are both momentariuly shocked by tooth-in-hand then the blood spills - he screams. Sonnet comes running up the stairs to find us in the bathroom and Eitan's mouth stuffed with Kleenex. Yes, this is as close to emergency ward as we have come and let us hope it is the most serious. Afterwards, the kids compare missing teeth and wobblies, Madeleine refusing to be left out of the action. Speaking of action: she and I have spent the last twenty-four hours practicing the months of the year - both their order and spelling. Madeleine writes them in her locked diary, practicing on an A4 beforehand. For some reason "October" is difficult - perhaps it sounds like August - but in the end, she is proud of her effort and goes to bed with the work tucked beside her bed. She wakes early so we can practice.

Love And Brit

The British love life depends on one's perspective and gender: 22% of married women wish they had chosen a different spouse while 12% of married men feel the same way (Daily Mail). Among divorcees, 56% of women and 44% of men cite unsatisfactory sex as the reason for the break-up. The good news is that persistence pays off: people who stick with their first choice of spouse tend to be happier: 60% of those on their first marriage believe they have found "the one," whereas 29% of those on a second or subsequent marriage say the same (The Sunday Times). Owning a pet may hurt your sex life: 48% of women would spurn a suitor who owned a spider. But it cuts both ways. If a prospective partner were allergic to their pet, 25% of pet owners would take the cat (Guardian). And is our yuff blessed or cursed? 38% of teenagers had sex in 2007, far more than any other European nation, although the Swedes come pretty close at 28% - God Bless those healthy cupids (The Sunday Times, compiled by The Week).

Blades

We skate the day before Christmas at Kew Gardens, which is otherwise closed to the public. Eitan is reasonably confident while Madeleine bull-sure: she races onto the ice, legs flying and arms flopping. Sonnet and I take turns circling the rink and holding them up, which in my case is a house of cards. Sonnet's Alaska meant icy summers while I mostly missed the winter time - without much regret, I may add. At some stage the circling becomes a race and Madeleine cracks the whip: "Faster dad! F-A-S-T-E-R !" It all ends in tears, of course, and hot chocolate.

Before the rink, I re-union with Arthur for a three hour walk along the Thames covering Richmond to Petersham. He is in town to give his belated good-byes after returning to the US in March, departing in a flurry of packing and construction. Arthur finished the redesign of his penthouse in about one month - following several years work where he single handedly reconstructed the electrics. Yes, he is an engineer employed by TRW (now Northrop Grumman) for nearly 30 years. His skills have taken him from satellites to communications, where he helped build the UK's police radio mobile communications network, among other things. And now Washington D.C. building the missile defense shield. Arthur and I met in '97 around running before his knees gave out and injuries caught up with us both. Now, as then, we hike London covering various locations and subjects - Author's generous and curious soul allows me to ask the sciences questions I missed at Berkeley and Brown.

Christmas Rack

A queue forms at Chubb & Son, the local butchers who have been in business for three generations, I learn. Us dads have our marching orders and stand in the cold, stomping feet and reading the papers or drinking coffee. Brave Madeleine joins me in return for a "treaty" at the next door news-agent (she brings her purse stuffed with various coins and currencies). Chubb tells me today is his busiest day and he fills his cold room for weeks in preparation. "I used to stay up all night sawing, but now trucks deliver frequently enough" he tells me. While Chubb's meat is organic and from farms selected by them, in the old days "butchers used to choose the animals for slaughter, which was done on site or nearby enough to be on the racks that day." Blood, guts and all, I might add. And the most popular selection for Christmas? Goose, of course.

Monday

Sonnet is up at dark to run with Stephanie while the kids awake too from a camp-out on Eitan's floor (there was plenty of excitement as Madeleine lined up her buddies next to her sleeping bag). I'm the last one up-and-at-'em, which is just as well given another grey and cold day - surprisingly thick fog makes it festively spooky and I tell the children to mind Jack. Here Eitan reads the football scores while we wait in the queue to pick up our holiday roast beast (FYI Eitan's hero Ronaldo scored the game winning goal for Manchester United yesterday versus Everton, which receives a giant "huzzey!")

I ask the Eitan and Madeleine to shout out the meaning of the holidays:

Madeleine: "Happy! Fun! Exciting! Nice, lovely, chimney, ash, sparkles, glow, God, Church, decorations, angels, bobbles, gold, Frankenstein! (I think she means Frankincense)

Eitan: "Mistle toe, turkey, Santa Claus, Rudolph, Dixon (reindeer), (rain deer) stables, Christmas dinner, stocking, presents, Baby Jesus, Star (of David), feast, Mary, Joseph, Christmas tree, cookies!"

Birds and Bees

Things have slowed for Christmas and Sonnet and I meet for an early lunch at the Armani cafe in South Kensington last week Thursday followed by a visit to the Lee Miller exhibition at the VA and Danish design at a house owned by Embassy of Denmark in London. Fun. Yesterday we ice skate with Nat and Justin before they holiday in Uruguay and today we spend the afternoon with David and Ashling, whose son Joe-H-Y is Eitan's school chum. Afterwards we go to church and the boys trade Pokomon cards during Silent Night and other carols. Madeleine is transfixed, and I note to my neighbor that even us Jews recognise some of the songs.

I ask Madeleine what happens when we grow old. She: "you grow hair from you nose. And ears too."

Madeleine on inception: "first there's a lot of hugging and kissing" she opines. Eitan adds: "a little seed with a tail swims around the mum's tummy." How does it get there, I ask? "she eats it." So today, for the first time, I describe the mechanics (this while walking home from the football pitch). Both kids reply: "Ew, dad, that is so gross!" and Madeleine: "did you do that to mom?" When they ask why adults do this, I explain so we can have kids like them which they ponder for a bit.

O'Brian

A frigate, in this case the representative USS Constitution, is a war ship which in the 18th century British Navy was as long as a ship-of-the-line and square rigged on all three masts, but faster and with lighter armament. Frigates were used for patrolling and escort but were also a ferocious fighters with a lower deck carrying 28 to 40 cannon - Jack Aubrey's Surprise had 28. I am on16 of Patrick O'Brien 20-book series detailing Captain Aubrey and companion spy Stephen Maturin during the Napoleonic wars. I was turned onto the story by Eric, who re-read the books and bought the audio - in other words, a serious recommendation. The Master and Commander is now the longest story I have read surpassing Churchill's WWII. I began in '03 and have recently slowed up to allow the stories to drag out - I don't want them to end (O'Brian died in 2000). O'Brian is a cult and on occassion I have been interrupted mid-chapter by some fellow pointing me his copy. We have visited Greenwich so I can look at the naval paintings. Last year, we went to Portsmouth where the old ships are docked for the public including Nelson's HMS Victory. O'Brian slowly brings the reader along with his story and is sharp about the ship's detail - after so many pages I still find myself searching for descriptions of "stuns'l", "spanker" and "backstaff." This, dear reader, is half the fun.

Snow Flake

I attend Madeleine's classroom to help Mrs. Reynolds do some filing and etc. It is over quickly and I spend my morning entertaining the kids and myself. First, we do verbs and the children shout out various conjugations (I run, he runs....). If the class gets a batch right a ruby is popped into the Jewel jar - once full, a secret surprise and the kids buzz: ice cream! After the morning's lessons, we break into tables and I help make snow flakes. We fold a square sheet and make scissor cuts - voila! just like we all remember. Did you know that snowflakes may form columns, needles, bricks and plates (with and without "dendrites" - the "arms" of some snowflakes) based on different temperatures and water saturation? The kids don't care either and Madeleine especially gives me a serious look when I begin my explanation. Christmas music plays in the background and soak up the holiday cheer. Photo by Mark Cassino.

"Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught."
Oscar Wilde from Intentions

Jesus

"We meet again" says Jerry Maguire. This photo taken some weeks ago at Kew Gardens with Shai and his family. From fish to Christmas and both Shakespeares want 'tactics. Eitan, in fact, has requested 30 which I tell him won't happen. The boy looks at me slyly: "I know Santa will buy them for me." Yes, we are at that awkward age when the older child knows and the younger clings to fantasy. Eitan is too smart to allow a fat man down the chimney. On occasion he lets his knowledge tickle the surface - met by my stern look and the promise, I assure him, that Santa will most definitely not deliver if he keeps it up. So, Christmas. Despite being Jewish (mom converted) I don't feel particularly conflicted by the Christian holidays. My parents generation assimilated and Katie and I were free to make our own decisions - and we chose swimming. Today, without a religious foundation, it is hard to be - well - religious. Sonnet and I discussed this many times but no longer. England after all is Catholic and our kids go to a primary where Baby Jesus is present and Christmas carols sung in the quire. Above all else, Eitan and Madeleine receive an excellent education. In England they will be allowed, thank goodness, to find their own way.

Poolside

Madeleine loves water and will soon try out for the local swim club - Eitan's team. Eitan's coach BTW has put the boy up for advancement- the only kid from his group. If he accepts, and I am not sure that he will, his weekly commitment jumps 3X and one hour work-outs. Madeleine has the body for swimming - she's a healthy kid whose growth chart suggests - gasp - 180 centimeters (5'11''). Plus man is she competitive. But let's not get ahead of ourselves here (ahem). I was a 14 year-old age-grouper when 16 year-old Mary T Maegher gave one of the most memorable performances in competitive swimming at the U.S. Swimming National Championships in Brown Deer, Wisconsin in 1981. At the meet, Meagher set world records in both the 200 and 100 meter butterfly. The times for both records were considered astonishing, especially the record of 57.93 seconds that Meagher set in the sprint. Both times would stand for nearly two decades - American swimmer Jenny Thompson broke the record in the 100 in 1999 while Susie O'Neill of Austrailia set the record in the 200 a year later. Some have argued that Meagher's records in the butterfly were among the most impressive records ever set in sport, let alone swimming, ranking among such noteworthy records as Bob Beamon's Long Jump in '68. Yes, let us allow Madeleine to decide on her sport first.

Harry

Here's one of our Prince stumbling from Mayfair's Bouji night club (photo from The Times). Yes, a fine role model for Britain's young who BTW out-binge any other Western European country. As worryingly, young women in the 18-24 age group are now matching, and in some cases overtaking, young men in their alcohol consumption reported by the BBC earlier this year - we are the only country in Europe where this trend occurs. Eitan, meanwhile, corrects my alcohol consumption: recall, dear reader, that we agreed several years ago that I would stop drinking beer if he gave up his thumb-sucking. We shook and he quit - so had I until the boy reminds me of the time I was with Erik... or when I watched a football match in March... or that time with Paul.... Well, yes I argue, but those were exceptions. Eitan is sceptical, and we agree anyway that beer makes people act silly and is not something for kids. On a more serious note, I tell Eitan and Madeleine that one day they will be offered pills which will make them feel different. They will have to make decisions for themselves, regardless of their friends or idiots like Harry.

The Chemical Brothers

Sonnet and I see The Chemical Brothers, who play from 11PM Saturday at the Brixton Academy. Think big beat, electronic dance music. Think loud. Think lasers and ecstasy. Numbing - pounding - euphoria. Wow. The UK based band, a duo really, is Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons who work an enormous computer set in the middle of the stage. There are otherwise no instruments nor performers. The Chemical Brothers, along with The Prodigy, Fatboy Slim and The Crystal Method, captured the 1990s rave spirit started in Detroit and exported famously to Ibiza and Europe. I recall a club in Almaty, Kazakstan, in 1997 where the music was similarly intense and young sweaty beautiful bodies deadened themselves to the world - somehow perfect for the location. Sonnet has the good sense to wear ear-plugs (middle age, must take care of ourselves) while afterwards I am deaf-tone from the performance and maintain a ringing 24 hours on. The music's vibrations, felt in the chest, stand my arm hairs on end. The audience is enraptured while visual images cross the gigantic digital screen: marching men with guns, a sad clown intoning "everybody get high," a squadron of bombers and so on. Sonnet and I agree that the only place a show like this could be had in the states is L.A. or Brooklyn.... perhaps Queens. It wakes me up from any sunlight deprived, early winter doldrums.

Jerry

Ah, Jerry Maguire - a film, I must admit, that is dear to my heart. Katie sends me this photo noting it was on late night TV. Back in ye olde England, Fleet Street buzzes Diana which somehow continues 11 years after Paris. And there is more salacious detail - this time, Diana's private correspondence to Prince Philippe who called Dodi Al-Fayed "an oily bed hopper", which we have always understood to be true. Further, after the 1996 divorce from the future King, the Royal Family considered Diana "an irrelevance." And more: Diana's best friend informs the court and us prying public that Diana could not have been pregnant with the Fayed because she had her period ten days before. Egad! (but what a relief to be pure of Dodi). So it goes on and on - supporting a media empire, keeping the unpleasant Al-Fayeds in knots, denigrating the palace and our country, embarrassing the sensitive reader who otherwise cannot get enough really. No wonder Monica Lewinsky took a flat in South Kensington several years ago - she be right at home.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna do what you all think I'm gonna do, which is, you know, FLIP OUT!"
Jerry Maguire