On Wireless Charging

PowerKiss, a Finnish company, recently launched a line of products with small receivers that plug into handheld devices (the Ring) and an electrical transmitter built into a piece of furniture (the Heart), pictured. When a device is placed on the table it charges wirelessly by using a resonating field induction that creates an electromagnetic field around the Heart transmitter. The Ring receiver adapts the current produced by the field to the requirements of the mobile device. Induction of this kind has a short range so the transmitter and receiver must be close together.

Arthur and I, on a long London walk, once discussed whether a wireless charge would one day be possible. He noted this impossible since a charge must be transferred via a conducting path of some sort. Here is what he says about PowerKiss:

"This is a clever idea and I wonder if it will really take off. You have to convince people to buy the receiver thingie. And you have to convince furniture manufacturers to build the wires into the furniture! I think when we talked about this previously, the idea was whether you could "beam" energy around across distances and that turns out to be very difficult. Radar dishes and lasers do indeed beam energy from one place to another, but it's hard to recover the energy and use it at the other end. And a person who gets in the way suffers bad side effects like cancer or just getting burned.

What they're doing here is putting you and your electronics inside a big electric field. Maybe a little bit analogous with those wires they bury in the asphalt at intersections to detect when cars are stopped at the lights, or your electric toothbrush which charges when you put it in the stand. I'm surprised they can get enough energy into the little receiver to charge a phone. Maybe over a long period of time you can charge it.

We're not talking about a lot of energy to run a phone (as evidenced by the tiny battery).

"

Kidz

Madeleine: "You're going to court? What did you do wrong?"

Me: "I am going to a tennis court. For Wimbledon."

Madeleine: "Why are you wearing long pants?"

Me:

Madeleine: "Aren't you playing?"

Me:

Madeleine: "Once, on television, I saw two football players in a match. And they kissed afterwards."

Me:

Madeleine: "Don't do anything silly, dad."

Sonnet: "Yes, don't do anything that might embarrass the family."

Inglorious Defeat

England crashes out 4-1 against Germany, breaking the country's heart. The team never comes together despite its talent scoring three goals in six hours on the pitch. We debate why the national team is so disappointing given the quality of the Premier League, which is the most funded in the world. Players earn £90,000 a week so one argument is that they don't give a hoot beyond their club teams. Or perhaps the best players like Beckham and Rooney and Gerard and Lampard are stars on their team but do not know how to play together- there can be only one prima donna per squad. Me, I think it runs more deeply: England's expectations are so high that they can only disappoint. The players and all involved know this and deliver.

Knock Out

We sit around the television anxiously watching England vs. Germany in the first moments of the knock-out round. Eitan: "The tension is unbearable," which become our mantra.

Eitan: "I wish the players had head phones so they could hear the commentary and do all the stuff they say."

All Whites

Christian has been with us this past week, which has been a joy. Yesterday we are joined by Mike and Andrea and their three kids including Oscar, who I first met in Provence when he was two years old. That was nearly ten years ago. Now he is almost a teen-ager and a baker with a specialty, he tells me, of chocolate muffins. Here we prepare for the USA vs. Ghana match, which the Americans end up losing in extra-time 2-1. Meanwhile is anybody aware that David Cameron announced his first budget? He calls for an increase in taxes and slashing of public services in an attempt to reduce the national deficit by £128 billion. Yep, an age of austerity. Britain's approach the opposite of the US, which spends into Already the unions are lining up for battle - we anticipate strikes at best, civil unrest at worst. Look at Greece.

Spain Scores

I ask Eitan to step outside for a moment to take a photo for this blog while Spain plays Chile. He notes seriously "I will kill you if there is a goal" and, sure enough, as soon as he is outside the view of the television - gooooaaalll to Spain ! The hand of God, dude. We re-create the moment, pictured.

The kids have a sporty afternoon at the "Motivate Competition" in Twickenham at St Mary's University. The top four boys and girls chosen from years 3 and 4 and Eitan and Madeleine on the team. Madeleine wins the sprint and Eitan takes the top spot in the sprint and the "long distance" quarter mile with 15 runners where, he explains: "I was last at the start, when every one was pushing me. Then I overtook everyone and then I won." Very matter of fact, the boy. Afterwards around 7:30PM the tired, red-cheeked, crew arrives home for pepperoni pizza - Madeleine is very sad as Marcus has a birthday sleep-over and Madeleine left out since no girls. The boys tease her on the playground.

Meanwhile, I run around these past few days with Hans from Industry Ventures meeting investors and sniffing for deals. Hans buys venture assets in the secondary market which usually means the counter-party needs to sell as typically a discount is applied to the seller's assets. It requires a certain amount of ruthlessness and Hans is charming like a snake - this has allowed him to attract almost $500 million in less than five years. I admire Hans - he is a dude who makes money. As I get older I appreciate this is a special kind of person. I met him when he had $25.

Louise & Izzy

We have Louise and her boyfriend Izzy over to dinner with Christian and Sonnet's friend and work colleague Oriel. I met Louise, via Duane, in February at her fashion show in Covent Garden and we have talked a few times about ways to commercialise her runway success beyond Top Shop. In short, fashion design is a tough business. She tells me when 16 and considering university, it was going into knits or physics. Izzy, meanwhile, is a big-bearded dude from Croatia who splits his time between New York and London managing a handful of up-and-coming or established 'head-banger' bands; he does this in partnership with Sony and knows his way around the music business. We have a few references in common from the summer I spent at EMI Music while at Columbia Business. In 1996 nobody talking about the Internet. Life was good. Life was great! Back then it was a good business to be in since the record labels vertically integrated. By the late 1980s there were tens of hundreds of platinum records (500,000 sold per year). Say good-bye to all that, boy. In 2009, there were nine platinum albums. When Napster and free-downloading arrived, music fans could give a rat's ass about the legality of piracy. Most young people have never paid for a record. There's the future of the industry, dude. The model remains muddled while live performance ever more important - which is Izzy's business.

Summer Fun

Who can forget a hot day and the backyard hose? We used to have water fights with our neighbors, the Prices, when we lived on San Ramon.

Christian and I take Madeleine to school (Eitan earlier for choir). I propose to their teachers that we take the kids out 30 minutes early to watch the World Cup. I am sent to the school secretary who notes, cryptically: "I am not sure how that will go down." She does not smile. Yet I sense a vacuum of authority which shall be exploited for the benefit of CW, the children and England. Game time BTW is 3PM sharp and Christian and I prepare ourselves for another "colossal English collapse which will leave the nation in mourning" he says. Sounds about right. Still, we have hope: Eitan has run the scenarios and to reach the knock-out round England must (A) win or (B) draw while the US loses. Come on, England.

Christian and I spend yesterday in Mayfair where I have a meeting then St James's Park. We have a picnic lunch and recline in lounge chairs on a beautiful summer's day. I make a few phone calls to keep in honest, then say good-bye so he can spend the afternoon buying English football gear, have a drink at Dukes then meet his Aunt and her husband for dinner. We re-union at 10PM for a night cap.

Iris

Christian, Madeleine and I stroll Richmond Park late Sunday afternoon eventually finding a favorite spot - the Isabella Plantation. The area, in the smack middle of the park, is a 1950's woodland garden planted in once marshy land and now an immense canvas bursting with white, yellow, pink, red and purple petals. The flowers are at their peak at the end of April/beginning of May so we may have missed the best but here I snap a friendly iris who seems to say 'hello, summer.' Silver would be enraptured.

Isabella has 15 known varieties of deciduous azalea and houses the national collection of 50 Kurume Azaelas, introduced to the west around 1920s. There are also 50 different species of rhododendron and 120 hybrids. In spring, we see camellias, magnolias, as well as daffodils and bluebells. From late April, the azaleas and rhododendrons are in flower. In summer, there are displays of Japanese irises and day lilies. By autumn, guelder rose, rowan and spindle trees are loaded with berries and leaves on the acer trees are turning red. Even in winter, the gardens have scent and colour. There are early camellias and rhododendron, as well as mahonia, winter-flowering heathers and stinking hellebore. Madeleine heads straight for a well-know spot.

Cool Hand Luke

David in his backyard in Bath. For the past several years David has served as a Senior Special Advisor to Foreign Secretary David Milliband. Before government, he gave advice to some of the smartest hedge fund guys on the planet, something he has returned to following the recent elections with Labour out of power. But hold on: it is not unreasonable to consider that Milliband may one day head his party - these discussions are going on real-time with Super Gee stepping down in autumn - and, should Labour win the next general elections, well, my friend might have an inside seat at the Big Show.

"Well, if you saw him it would be a big crush. I mean, he is so vibrant, vital, attractive, smart. He's really a good guy. And he is so young!"

--Hillary Clinton on David Milliband, who is 17 years her junior. November, 2009

Fireworks

Fireworks from David/Tab's tenth anniversary party. Bam! Boom! Pow!

England's mood dour following Friday's nil-nil tie with Algeria, a team we should have beaten handily. To make matters worse, John Terry, the defensive backbone of the squad and formerly England's captain until demoted by England coach Fabio Capello for shagging his best-mate and fellow England player Wayne Bridge's girlfriend. Terry being married himself, you see. Wayne Bridge promptly quit international football and who can blame him? Terry would seem to have an axe to grind with Coach and declares that the England players may mutiny under Capello's leadership (Capello recently inking a £4.8 million multi-year salary to coach the squad). Only most of the players think Terry speaking out of turn and not on behalf of the team; besides, Stevie Gee wear the captain's band following Rio Ferdinand's freak accident the first day in South Africa. The press having a field-day with our lads' under-achievement and general weepiness - Eitan's Blues show more spirit than this team so far. Still, with a victory - one simple victory - over Slovenia Wednesday and all wrongs forgotten in the knock-out stage of the finals. Come on, England, let us see some fireworks!

Today is the summer solstice.

Me And Madeleine

Madeleine wears a dress for the first time in a year. There are plenty of tears but finally she succumbs. I promise her that if she gets the dress dirty with a good rip or two, she won't have to wear it again. This psyches her up.

One of my favorite things about Madeleine is her energy - she is a slow starter in the morning but once she is revved up, there is no slowing her down (Auntie Katie is a night-owl and I wonder: how did Katie survive those 6:30AM workouts when we were growing up?). On the week ends I find Madeleine red cheeked from running or biking or doing some outdoor activity often wearing long pants despite the summer's heat (recall she ran the five-mile fun run in her jeans). She shows great compassion of little creatures and spends hours trying to understand bugs and backyard critters. Our poor dear was devastated when one of our frogs died and we agreed the best way forward to release the remaining 49 tadpoles into the pond - she checks every day to see how they are doing (though they seem to have disappeared - oh, dear). Last week she found an injured dragon fly and gently nursed it to life in a plastic bin with green leaves and a few bugs to eat, never you mind that one critter's life might cost another's. Madeleine's enthusiasm brings me and others along with her and, more than her brother, she owns a Californian spirit: rules are there but they are also meant to be broken. Could she be a future entrepreneur? I would not bet against it.

Spitfire

We join Dave and Tabitha in Bath to celebrate their tenth anniversary+Dave's 4-0, which is later this year. One of many highlights is a fly-over of the beautiful Submarine Spitfire, pictured. It is one of 44 remaining, and ours the first plane to record a "kill" in the Battle of Britain. Dave's grandfather, who I stand next to during the fly-by's, repaired Spitfires during the war. He recalls the bullet holes that suggested the intensity, and seriousness, of those overhead battles. The Spitfire has a distinctive sound to accompany its unique and elegant design and I learn from our B&B that that drivers pull of the road to watch the spectacle. It is a rare thing indeed to see Britain's most revered aircraft in action.

The Spitfire began with RJ Mitchell's design to meet the Air Ministry specification for a new and modern fighter capable of 251 mph, which netted an open-cockpit monoplan with bulky gull-wings and a large, fixed spatted undercarriage powered by a 600 horsepower Rolls Royce engine. It made its first flight in '34, and despite being airborne, it was a big disappointment to the design team. That year, Mitchell decided to use an elliptical wing shape to solve two conflicting requirements; the wing needed to be thin, to avoid creating too much drag, while able to house a retractable undercarriage, plus armament and ammunition. Beverely Shenstone, the aerodynamicist on Mitchell's team, explained the wing's qualities:

"The elliptical wing was decided upon quite early on. Aerodynamically it was the best for our purpose because the induced drag, that caused in producing lift, was lowest when this shape was used: the ellipse... was theoretically a perfection .... To reduce drag we wanted the lowest possible thickness - to-chord, consistent with the necessary strength. But near the root the wing had to be thick enough to accommodate the retracted undercarriage and the guns... Mitchell was in intensely practical man... The ellipse was simply the shape that allowed us the thinnest possibly wing with room inside to carry the necessary structure and the things we wanted to cram it. And it looked nice."

(source: wiki)

Another WC Draw

Another Friday evening, another England draw - this time against Algeria, nil-nil. Our squad ineffective against a team that, man-for-man, does not stack up. Slovenia next week in a must-win or England's world cup hopes come to a crashing end. Happily (?), I have been rooting for the Bears my entire life so I am well versed in high-expectations that wilt to bitter herbs. Are there some lessons here somehow? No wonder Eitan roots for Manchester United. You might as well pick the winners whenever and wherever you can. Come on, England!

Ray

Marcus makes a memorial for Ray, as he would have wanted it. Ray was married to Robin and 82 when he passed. He was involved in the La Veta community where, amongst other things, he helped restore the local library which is a gem on the main street. I take the kids there during our summer visits. Ray was a skilled builder and completed Robin's jewellery studio next to their house, which he also turned into something special - my favorite feature the front porch where one could rest in a hammock and watch the local high school football team practice in a nearby field or take a nap on a lazy week end. Before retiring to La Veta, Ray and Robin lived in Virginia with their horses and border collies - we spent Thanksgiving with them my second year of graduate school (I watched a lot of college football) and their home filled with Robin's art, views of fields and woods and of course interesting stories from Ray and a lot of love at the kitchen table. I remember that well. Ray worked for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, rooting out moonshine makers in the Virginia hills. He was also a dowser and village story teller. He will be missed by us all.

Me: "Do you have any thing you wish to say about Ray?"

Eitan: "I didn't really know much about him. He was good at building. He let us throw the frisbee for their dog."

Me: "Are you sad that Ray is gone?"

Eitan: "Yeah. He was in our family."

Hike

Sonnet was in Colorado last week with her family to celebrate Ray's life. Here, she and Marcus are on a hike from Telluride or nearby her parents home outside Montrose. She tells me they reached a 'spectacular waterfall' and had a picnic lunch. Marcus is finishing a screen play for a television series which he hopes to sell. It is about NGO workers in world hot-spots like Afghanistan - recall, dear reader, that Marcus has helped to set up girl schools in this part of the world. He also contemplates a move to Portland, Oregon, which we both agree is a great city and well suited for his temperament. Otherwise, Marcus has been in Seattle for the last five years.

Madeleine stuffs some notes in her pocket.

Me: "Excuse me, but those are not yours. Besides, you cannot spend them here - they are euros."

Madeleine: "You mean I can have them?"

Me:

Madeleine: "Oh, I thought you said they 'are yours.'"

Eitan to Sonnet: "Will you make me some hot cocoa?"

Sonnet: "Why don't you make yourself some breakfast?"

Eitan: "Well, that is not what I asked."

Me to Eitan, hovering over my shoulder and munching on a sticky bun: "Do you have anything you want to add to my blog?"

Eitan: "It's not a sticky bun."

Me: "Well, what is it?"

Eitan: "I don't know. It's not a sticky bun."

Me: "Well, find out what it is?"

Eitan: "It is not a sticky bun."

Me: "A sticky roll?"

Eitan: "No. It is not a sticky roll or a sticky bun."

Me: "What the hell is it then?"

Eitan: "Dad! You can't write that!"

England Fans

I have said it before and I will say it again: this country takes its football seriously. And tonight, the stakes could not be higher as England plays Algeria which kicks off at 7:30PM. Recall, of course, that the three lions tied the Americans in last week's action. Eitan has his over-sized St George's flag+other ornamentations around the house and on our car. He will miss swim-practice. Madeleine is not quite so do-or-die about the whole thing though she, too, enjoys the spectacle. Me, I am just happy it is Friday following a long week.

As for the rest of the country: tens of thousands of Brits expected to skive off work to get the best seat at the pub or bar - it becomes spooky during game time when there is no traffic. And it is eerily silent, too. Today will mark the biggest day of the year for breweries given the kick-off hour+week end and the drinks industry will make an extra £40 million on top of the normal £100 for any old Friday night, according to the British Beer and Pub Association. That means nine million more pints than usual during the match. As though this country needs an excuse to drink. Come on, England!

"In soccer, the form of the encoded adjective is well-developed."

--Julian Barnes, British author and critic

How Your Bread Is Buttered

Barton = Apology to BP = Republican = Jackass.

Joe Barton is from Texas and has received $1,447,880 from the oil industry (source: Center for Responsive Politics). As at now, an estimated 73.5 million to 126 million gallons of oil has come out of the breached wellhead, wheher into the Gulf water or captured. How dare Barton wear the Stars and Stripes.

Vauxhall Sunset

My photo on the way home from St Pancras changing from the underground to the overland rail. Vauxhall is a poor area of London south of the Thames with a few neighborhoods that have gentrified. Parliament is on the other side of the river. The land was flat and parts were marshy and poorly drained by ditches, and only started to be developed in the mid-18th century but remained a village. Somehow it has retained this stigma.

Today, there is a large Portuguese community in Vauxhall and a favorite pre-concert restaurant of ours is a family Portuguese complete with seven old TVs showing some obscure football match without sound; the food excellent, tables checkered, wine cheap and the waiters there, like, forever. My kind of place.

Pictured in my photo is Secret Intelligence Service building (with antenna), home of MI6 (foreign intelligence) and MI5 (internal Security Service). SIS is sometimes referred to inside the Civil Service as Box 850 after its old MI6 post office box number. It has appeared in several Bond movies. The steel object across the photo is the Vauxhall Cross transport interchange, built in 2005. Its solar panels supply energy for 60% of the bus station's lighting.

And here is what makes Vauxhall vibrant: it has become London's gay village, home to an ever-increasing number of gay bars and nighclubs like Area, Barcode, Chariots, Crash, The Eagle, Fire, the Royal Vauxhall Tavern which dates back to the 1800s and was once a cabaret. When the club scene in central London became to commercial, the serious pleasure seekers went south for their good times. As often, the gays make a neglected urban area cool and then others follow - I think of Greenwich Village, NY, or Shoreditch. And now here.

"You're a woman of many parts, Pussy."

--James Bond in 'Goldfinger'

Tyler Rides

Tyler bikes The Pacific Coast Highway also known as The Great Highway or HW1 for charity. Yes, the OP behind him. Tyler and his fellow peddlers net over $10 million to fight HIV and AIDS. He notes that on the 560 mile journey he had little difficulty nor a single flat with perfect weather and, of course, beautiful scenery. His favorite stretches "the quiet valleys north and wet of Paso Robles" and the coast north of Pismo Beach, pictured. I grew up with Tyler and have known him since at least the seventh-grade. He is a Lawyer in the East Bay with his own practice - the road less travelled. Bravo!