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Eitan works at his times-tables covering 1's to 9's (pictured, him drawing a "maths page"). It is an effort he does with pleasure.

Sonnet runs to work and I am back at the office, though a quiet week thanks to school half-term (many families bolt London but we save our vacation for July). Natasha arrives early and tanked up on coffee: first stop, thank goodness, football camp. After yesterday's wash-out Madeleine and Eitan raring to go. Oh boy. An interesting row has developed between the public and the NHS, which recently received £4 million from Royal Bank of Scotland allowing the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary to purchase a cutting-edge CT scanner - the only one of its kind online in the UK (the scanner takes remarkable 3-D images of an organ assisting detection of about anything). In return for the support, RBS receives preferences over the general public with 25% of the scanner's time "ringfenced" for its staff. I think this is a compelling model, which needs a set of guidelines for future like ventures. Otherwise it becomes the British rail system. Or worse, the tube.

Jump!

My day starts in an interesting fashion as I go to Bikram yoga and faint half-way through the balance exercises, scaring everybody including the instructor (though one jolly fellow does tell me: "you made it to nirvana") Bikram is practiced in a room heated to 105°F with a humidity of 40% and lasts 90 minutes through 26 postures. Bikram is not for the faint-of-heart, which is me Dear Reader, and I bonked at posture ten, the "bow arrow" pose. My problem today I think dehydration - I sweat like crazy and today was week-kneed from the start. Further sending me into a tale spin was the at-capacity crowd forcing neighborly proximity and raising the heat while lowering the oxygen. Any ways, there I was on my back feeling nauseous and the next thing two anxious faces staring into my face. No way they are going to let me out BTW and I rejoin the torture for the ground-series which blessedly puts my head at least level to my heart. Phew.

Because of the rain, football camp indeed cancelled and Sonnet takes the kids to the pool to burn some energy. From there, she guides them through clay-mations, which now bake in the oven (Eitan does a pretty cool Rinaldo on miniature field in stadium). Both do home work and I watch tennis. Thanks to the weather, the mood is, er, stir crazy and Madeleine jumps some rope shaking the house bonkers until Sonnet shouts: "E-N-O-U-G-H!" moving even me from the couch. Ah yes, nothing like a Bank Holiday Weekend.

I ask Madeleine: what are the most important things to you? and she replies "Parrots and love."
Parrots? I ask. "Parrots, dad!" (of course she says "parents" but her accent mixes me up)

Madeleine Climbs A Tree

'nuff said.

Beavers

I am glad that Madeleine and I had our walk yesterday given today's and perhaps the week's weather. She remains a tom-boy, freckles and all, and finds a tree to climb. In other news from this country: the European beaver is to be reintroduced to the wild, five centuries after it was hunted to extinction for its fur. Up to four beaver families will be captured in Norway later this year and released in Knapdale, Argyll, next spring. And there you have it.

Bank Hurricane Weekend

It does not just rain, it pours on, yes,... wait for it... the bank holiday weekend! The Met Office issues a "gale winds and flood warning" for Southeast England and we stair out the window as the trees blow and ground soaks. Football camp begins today for the kids and when Eitan sees the report he cries. Sonnet makes a fire and lights a few candles to cheer us up. It is for sure a Cat In The Hat day:

The sun did not shine.
It was too wet to play.
So we sat in the house
All that cold, cold, wet day.
--Dr. Seuss, "Cat In The Hat"

I'm not sure if we will make camp today and sadly the weather forecast is "rain" all week, letting up by the weekend perhaps. Being half-term break, this is a cruel blow indeed.

Puss In Boots

I get an easy-pass as Sonnet takes the kids to Kew Gardens. I use my time to sleep until 11AM, watch some golf and the French Open, which begins today at Roland Garros and lounge in my boxers and an old Izod. It is good to be Dad and how easy to slip back to the free-and-easy circa 1991 or '92 when the only weekend agenda was a morning run, afternoon nap and night on the town. It all came to a crashing halt by Monday and work - dreadful, Dear Reader- but there were moments of genuine enjoyment and kindled interest (Let's get drunk! Let's get laid!). Back to now, tomorrow is another strangely named "bank holiday" which celebrates... nothing. I think there are five of them and it always rains. Yes tomorrow's forecast is.... rain! In fact, we anticipate gale-force warnings in the Southeast - I've been here before so no disappointment from this corner of London. As it is a holiday, the kids now sit in front of Shrek II and we all have a laugh at Puss in Boots and Donkey ("keep work'n that hat" he says to a chica). Madeleine spies our neighbor's outdoors party whispers to Sonnet: "Look mom! Teenagers smoking. And drinking! And kissing!" And indeed.

On Piranhas

Madeleine spends her sweet time at a stream in Isabella looking for "tadpoles and other fish." I ask: are there any piranhas? and replies she, without looking up: "don't be silly dad. Piranhas live in a much bigger pond."  

I have been passively observing the frog collection in Madeleine's classroom, which started as 200 or so frog eggs. This converted to maybe 100 tad poles and now one frog. One frog? I ask. What happened to the rest? "Don't know" she says, sans emotion. "Maybe they drowned?"  

This brings back memories from Tamales Bay at Point Reyes in Northern California. Pt Reyes a cape in Marine County that protects Drakes Bay and home to many ocean critters. As a child, we had our favorites including "windy beach" (named on a windy afternoon - the same day II took a dunk in the Pacific and Moe dragged me out by a leg) and "sea lion beach" where we observed up close an elephant seal. Wow - that sucker was big too. 

The walks there always leisurely and surrounded by grassy hills and the most beautiful orange California poppy. Oh, and Tamales Bay had shallow side streams filled with tad poles by the spring time. Heaven indeed.

Isabella

I drag Madeleine back to the Isabella Plantation in Richmond Park to take evening shots of the flowers, which are at the height of their bloom. The gardens BTW celebrate their 50th year. Located in a beautiful woodland, Isabella houses a most excellent collection of azaleas, including the National Collection of 50 Japanese azalea varieties introduced to the West around 1920 by the famous plant collector, Ernest Wilson. Rhododendrons, camellias, and magnolias thrive under a mature woodland canopy with many other acid-loving plants. There are several ponds and trees for Madeleine to climb as she does today and yesterday. It is the kind of thing one plans to visit all year but reallly the best time is now until early June and then it is over. Usually we miss it but this year twice already and maybe again too. Madeleine agrees to always hold my hand and notes "don't be silly dad" when I suggest one day she might choose otherwise.

I ask Madeleine what the most important thing in life is? She says "parents" but I hear "parrots" (English accent) and we break-up laughing at this mis-understanding.

Whiteley

Here is my college pal Greg at his most graceful. We met Sophomore year at Brown thanks to Roger who convinced me to compete cross country (college swimming was a downer thanks to a generally miserable squad coached by Ed Reese).

I bounced swimming to join the 11th-ranked Bruins (today called the "Brown Bears") and made some wonderful friendships including Greg who was then, and remains today, a hero to us (ex)athletes and alumnae. Greg was the 1989 NCAA Champion in 3000m indoor with a 7:57.14 clocking. Then he beat arch-rival and future (now former) "Greatest American Miler", Little Joe Falcon from Arkansas. Greg was a six-time All-American (track & x-country) and holds many of Brown's records still. From 1993-1996 he was the American record holder for the 5000 meters on the road.

Greg was also 4th in the 1992 Olympic trials in the 1500 coming down from his natural strength, the 5000 race, due to injury and being out-of-shape. He missed a spot by one one-hundredth of a second. I recall like yesterday anxiously reading the papers to see if he had qualified.

I'm reminded of our friendship thanks to an email distribution today. Amongst other things, Greg comments on our '89 bet Senior year. He and I were a always competitive and agreed to challenge each other with a 1500 meter swim+10 mile road run. While it was unclear what the winner received (other than bragging rights) the bet gathered momentum within the track and athletic community. Sadly, thanks to my injury (lower back) the race was put on hold indefinitely.

I figured back then I would have to get about seven minutes on Greg during the swim then run a 57 or 58 minute ten-miler - probably impossible but the thought of seeing Whiteley over my shoulder still sends a thrill through me even today as I blog.

Rock On

Not to take anything away from Ed Timpson, formerly pictured on this blog, but I replace his victory photo with David Cameron and C-3PO.

Britain's Conservatives crushed the governing Labour Party in a special election that underlined the deepening unpopularity of Prime Minister Gordon Brown's government. Labour has had held Crewe and Nantwich since the seat created in 1983 and had not lost a seat to the Conservatives in a special election in 30 years. Say good-bye to all that. Tory Edward Timpson beat Labour Tamsin Dunwoody (great name) 20,539 votes to 12,679 in yesterday's special election. The gap was nearly 800 votes more than Labour's winning margin in the district in the national election three years ago. The election makes little change in the balance of power in Parliament but political pundits pay close attention to the scale of voter change, which they apply nationally to guess the results of future elections. It's not looking good for Super Gee. Photo of David Cameron and Timson from The Telegraph.

Eitan has swimming this evening and I run by the Thames during his practice. We listen to Gore Vidal on the BBC interviewed from his London apartment. He talks about all that as the last great American writer of his generation. Most interesting are his friendships and rivalries including Norman, Kurt, Miller, Irving, Updike and others (he doesn't like Updike BTW). Interestingly he says he is done writing and discouraged by today's lack of serious reading. Plus the mafia killed JFK and the Republicans will steal the US elections "as they always do." I take note. The kids officially on half-term so no school next week+it is a bank holiday weekend. They look forward to soccer camp and freedom from activities and homework. I look forward to goofing with them however.

$100 A Tank Cheap

Yes, even I wonder sometimes why Sonnet married me. Still, we have fun and here is another photograph from The Globe.

Britain really must address its oil consumption now that a gallon costs $10.50 and only going up (Bush three months ago told reporters they were nuts when $4 gas was suggested in the USA). It is easy to understand why: the world uses about 87 million barrels of oil a day, a quarter of it in the US. Saudi Arabia is the only country who can pump more - and they won't despite El Presidente's recent requests. Meanwhile, China is in its industrial revolution and then India. There are four oil fields in the world which produce over one million barrels per day: Ghawar, at 4.5 million; Cantarell in Mexico, at 2 million; Burgan in Kuwait at 1 million; and Da Qing in China at 1 million. Ghawar, at 5.5% of daily production is therefore extremely important to our well being, Dear Brother, and is expected to peak inside ten years. "The big risk in Saudi Arabia is that Ghawar's rate of decline increases to an alarming point," says Ali Morteza Samsam Bakhtiari, a senior official with the National Iranian Oil Company. "That will set bells ringing all over the oil world because Ghawar underpins Saudi output and Saudi undergirds worldwide production." Further: according to the Paris-based International Energy Agency yesterday, global need will increase to 116 million barrells a day by 2030 while production might not even make 100 million. That's a supply-demand issue dude.

Everything we see, do and touch based on cheap, or basically free, energy. Those days are gone man and the transition has yet to begin. It sure will help when we get Texas out of the White House and good riddance.

I ask Madeleine what she think we adults talk about. Says she: "us children. Fancy babes." (I think she meant "foxy" but who knows?)

4-0

On a beautiful yesterday, Sonnet turns forty. I pretend not to care, or at least not care as much as the FA Cup Final in Moscow featuring ManU v Chelsea (Eitan stays up until 11PM - sudden death PKs, dude). Sonnet and I meet at Somerset House in the afternoon to see an exhibition on fashion design and architecture and how the two shall intertwine (lots of Japanese work+the expected Frank Gehry, Herzog & de Meuron+etc.)

From there I take a new route home before ending up - surprise! - in front of Oxo Tower where we have dinner on the top floor, outside, overlooking Temple from parliament to Blackfriars - how green is London this time of year. Even nicer as the sun sets. I read notes from her family, including a power point presentation from Marcus complete with youthful photos and a poem - bravo!

The kids pick out a painting by our friend Sabi which she loves. We then go The Globe, via bankside, to see A Midsummer Night's Dream with just enough breeze to keep everybody happy. Manchester United eventually wins and the day complete.

"Dear Sonnet since it's your birthday we desided (sic) we would clear up the living room hope its tidy. From Eitan, Madeleine and Natasha"
Written by Eitan on Sonnet's fortieth birthday

Testing

Here's a photo, taken at St Paul's where Eitan now swims. It returns me to panic from an otherwise remembered care-free childhood. Who can forget standardized testing? Even the name sounds Big Brotherish and unpleasant. The first time I took the SATs was at the American School in Geneve, Switzerland, during my Junior year exchange. My performance was only mediocre so I did what every kid does: Stanley Kaplan and a re-take (Kaplan BTW was miserable and not my idea of a California summer). Anyway, on SAT #2, I had flu and over-slept the alarm. I was going to bag the thing but Grace got me into the car and we drove five blocks.... then ran out of gas. It was raining. Mom races back to the house, gets another car and breaks the law I'm sure to get me to the Oakland testing center 20 minutes late. My score goes up over 100 points and I to to college. Ghastly.

Swim

Here we are at the level-crossing, listening to the Stereophonics, on our way to St Paul's for Eitan's first swim-practice with the larger age-group. He tells me "I am a bit nervous" but otherwise he holds up OK. On the pool deck there are 40 or so swimmers of various ages and skills and Eitan is teamed up with the youngest or a crew of ten. They swim laps for an hour including pulling (with pull-bouy), kicking and stroke technique. It is a big step up in seriousness from his Sunday mornings. The program includes two evening work outs from 6-7PM+Saturday mornings - our goal is make two. In addition and as a bonus, Eitan is excited to have flippers and other kit which comes with the territory. So here I find myself yet again, Dear Father, parked on a bench and reading a book (this time Philip Roth's "I Married A Communist"). We are yet some years from early-morning practices so thank God for that. I tell Eitan Bravo! for giving it a go while his heart remains with football. It is on him should he wish to continue with swimming and for now it is all good.

Sabi

We make it out the door to the Hampton Pool for two hours of play on top of Eitan's swim practice this morning. Phew - they never stop. We have a great time and then Pizza Express where the Shakespeares wolf down an adult-size pizza each (usually I plan for the left-overs but today disappointed. Moe would understand). Then we head for the Wimbledon Art Studio to visit our friend Sabi whose work is on display and for sale during the open house. It turns out to be a fabulous exposure for Madeleine, our self-proclaimed artist, who gets to meet the artists in their natural environment. She is wide eyed and respectful, commenting quietly on what she likes (Sonnet reminds me that last month Madeleine asked if we could convert our shed into a painting room). She and Eitan collect post cards which is a genius way of keeping them attuned. I will try to get Madeleine back there soon for sure. Oh, and this mobile-phone pic sent to Katie to make her laugh. Says she: "YES".

Sunday Morning

After breakfast Eitan and Madeleine get stoned before the Olsen Twins - how the average Brit kid watches 55 hours of television a week is beyond me (BBC).

Sonnet is off to work to do some catch-up and I scheme for the day: Bath? Bournemouth? The seaside? All rejected due to drive-time. We agree on the Hampton pool and after tele will head there- assuming, of course, the weather holds which dicey as I blog this. While easy to forget we live on an island the weather, straight from the ocean, reminds us daily. No wonder weather is the Number One discussion topic here - sort of like guys and baseball in the US'A.

You Can't Make This Up

Reported on the cover of Fleet Street this morning: an MI5 officer (Britain's secret service) resigned after admitting his wife a prostitute who took part in a "Nazi-style orgy" with Max Mosley, the Formula One racing chief and one of sport's most powerful figures- pictured. 

Can you imagine director-general Jonathan Evans telling the Home Secretary and Super Gee that one? Mosley BTW is a real number: 68 years old and married for 48 years, his father led the Union of Fascists in the 1930s and his mother an admirer of Hitler. 

According to the press, Mosley's five-hour sex session with five call girls took place in an underground "torture chamber" in Chelsea, where the Oxford-educated former barrister reenacted a concentration camp scene complete with fancy dress and whips- all caught on secret video sold lovingly to rag mag News Of The World. In the video Mosley stands naked as a prostitute ties him up, orders him to lie face down then screams: "Face down! Did I say move? We don't want you to be comfortable." 

People, BTW, are sick and Mosley needs help, the pervy bastard. As says Sonnet: "the news here is never dull." (I debated whether to post this and decided the story, fully covered in England, shows a dark-side of here)

More Footie!

Cold and wet this morning on the pitch - in other words, back to the England we know and love. Eitan shivers away but refuses, at first, to where his jumper (I would have done the same). Now he sits in front of the television preparing for the FA Cup Final pitting Portsmouth against Cardiff and the first time since 1992 that one of the Big Four (ManU, Chelsea, Arsenal and Liverpool) has not played for this trophy. An announcer notes that Portsmouth was eighth in the Premiere League and Eitan corrects him: "actually" says he, "they are seventh. We discuss this a bit and Eitan corrects himself: "Portsmouth lost against Blackburn two weeks ago I think." A quick search shows that 8th is the right answer.

Madeleine meanwhile is at Performance Class following her morning of swim team and football (watched by Sonnet). In swimming she makes good progress and swims crawl and backstroke across the pool, no problemo. Her upper body will strengthen to the sport and her stroke improve - at now there are a lot of moving parts each with its own intention. I think Madeleine suited for aquatics - she is a strong kid already and expected to grow to an above-average height. Who knows what she may become?

I sing to Madeleine until Sonnet tells me to put a sock in it:

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you
Tomorrow I'll miss you
Remember I'll always be true
And then while I'm away
I'll write home every day
And I'll send all my loving to you

Bertie

Here is Bertie at footie this morning. Bertie and Eitan started together at age-three while Bertie's father David and I have endured five seasons of sun and rain, often huddled on the sidelines, freezing cold and drinking coffee to stay worm. The kids are growing, boy.

Did you know that if the Democrats used the Republicans delegate allocation, Hillary would have won the primaries weeks ago? The Demo rules mandate that every candidate with more than 15% of a state's primary vote be allocated delegates in proportion to her share of the votes cast (for Repubs, it is winner takes all). Then of course there are the Super Delegates, which each party has. For the Democrats, S-D's are former Presidents, Vice Presidents, and Distinguished Party Leaders (19 in all), Democratic members of the Senate (48) and House of Representatives (222), Democratic Governors (31) and 398 members of the party's national body and a few add-ons. The total of 796 represents 20% of all delegates to the convention and important because they may chose regardless of the popular vote. And should you wonder, Dear Brother, if the S-D can be purchased why just ask California Super Delgate Steven Ybarra who says he will vote for the candidate who stumps up $20 million for his Mexican-American voter registration scheme and will stay undecided until "someone shows me the money." Bastard.

Eitan's football becoming a house issue as the dining room wall now his backstop.

Eitan tells me his new joke: "Once there was a man sitting on the toilet with his iPod. He iPood."

Eitan: "Dad you should have seen Rinaldo's skill when he was trashing Arsenal" (Arsenal, of course, being my team)"

Hair Cut

"Mom! Look at my hair cut!" Madeleine shouts as Sonnet walks through the door just now. It has been a while since her last salon and our Angel is, like, totally excited. Natasha is with them and Eitan plays his Nintendo, ignoring my arrival. From there, I take Eitan to St Paul's to check out the swim-team - he has been promoted to an older, more serious group which requires three-workouts per week and some logistics from us should he proceed. The boy's dry-run allows him to observe what he is getting us into - fair enough - and after 45-minutes he's decided: it is a "go." On the ride home we talk about achievement and what it means. We also discuss secondary schools and what it will take to go to a good one. Oh brother. Yesterday he receives an Achievement Award "for being a superb role model in Owls class" which Miss Sw. reads to the auditorium.

Oil reaches $128 a barrel. El Presidente urges (begs) the Saudis to produce more of it. There's a solution, dude.