Grand Union Canal

Me and Madeleine by the Grand Union Canal in Paddington, London, circa 2002.

The surrounding neighbourhood Maida Vale and Little Venice, which owns enormous detached houses made all the more interesting by their proximity to the ancient, industrial, waterways.  The canal connects here to Birmingham 137 miles northwest with 166 locks , each charging a toll. By the mid-19th century, trains and, eventually, lorries, made the canals obsolete. Deserted, they fell into disrepair until an Act of Parliament in 1931 demanded their upkeep.

The canal 5-feet, six-inches at its deepest point with a minimum 26-foot width allowing two boats to cross each other. The canal boats long and narrow : they are still used to transport coal and other stuff but mostly they are kept for leisure purposes. Some weirdos live in the things and a canal-berth in Central London goes for £120,000.

I used to run along the canal toe-path which covers a fair stretch of urban blight before entering the countryside. Along the embankment are white markings which, for the longest time, made me wonder : why? It turns out that anglers own the "rights" to specific spots , which are passed down through the generations. Sunday mornings the fishermen out in force, too, with top-of-the-line water gear and 25-foot poles; some of the better equipped outfits have hydrolics lowering the fishermen into the water. God only knows what they pull up - maybe an old boot or a shopping cart? I asked once and got only a blank stair.

Madeleine: "Dad! You're home! I'm so glad to see you!"
Me: "Hiya, Kiddo. How was your day?"
Madeleine: "My fish almost died."
Me: "No! What happened?"
Madeleine: "I went in to feed him. And he was lying on the surface sort of on his side, breathing through his mouth."
Me: "Oh?"
Madeleine: "So I swirled him around a bit and he moved to the middle of his tank."
Me: "And?"
Madeleine: "What?"
Me: "Is he alive?"
Madeleine: "Yeah, I guess so."

La Rue

rue du Faubourg St Honoree - the most glamorous street in Paris and perhaps all the world. My shot from this morning, 8AM, walking towards the Astorg offices from the hotel . Me, otherwise up at 6AM, running in the dark, crossing le pont neuf then alongside the Seine to 'île de la Cité and around Notre Dame, through the Louvre and jardin des Touleries,  then the Place de la Concorde and finally my terminus, Le Crillon,  next to the American Embassy whose stars and stripes I salute. This before sunrise.

Miss France, Y'All

Since Paris, Miss France (photo credit: Abaca). 

The wonderfully named Delphine Wespiser notes in her first official address (my translation) "I won the beauty contest because of my speech. I think and hope that the French turned to me for my speech. An object does not speak, does not think. The election of Miss France shows woman are valued and I find it beautiful. "

In our house it is all about 'the speech' : Eitan and Madeleine valued for their school, sport, activities and friends. Sonnet and I make sure it is so .

Leslie & Sean

Our new friends Leslie and Sean over for dinner : Leslie graduated UC Berkeley and knows a bunch of my childhood crew including Christian, who introduces us. She is now at Warners in corporate philanthropy and has a particular independent interest in Haiti where she visited before and following the January 2010 devastating earthquake.  Sean from Dublin, went to Trinity, earned his MBA, and founded a business before throwing it all away for Broadway (I have wanted to say that forever).  For 18 months Sean the lead in 'The 39 Steps', which won the Olivier Award for Best Comedy in 2007; We saw the play in London last year with "Uncle" Anthony.

  I mention how my Stanford undergrad application demanded one word to describe one's self and I picked "diligent" (Even now, 27 years later, I hear the Admissions Officer yawn).  We do an update and Sonnet goes with 'collaborative' , Sean  'philisophical' and I choose 'irreverant' : I conclude that every age has it's thing and middle-age about routine. The kids and family crave it. So, yes, that is us but not entirely : my mantra now and for some time is "don't be boring". And while I may not have the gonads to carry off a handle-bar mustache given my profession, I am proud of my long-hair at least. I also let my mother shine through : her sense of humor and speaking her mind serves me well.

After dinner we go to our local pub and interesting to see our neighbourhood through the eyes of others. What I see as grey, low build housing, they see as charming village.  Half empty-half full ? Mostly I don't see much of what is around us anymore. It is what it is.

Elm Grove defeats Carshalton Athletic in a rematch, 2-1. Earlier this year the boys lost 3-2 and both games equally exciting. Eitan's major contribution to knock clear a goal-line strike that slips by our goalie and otherwise a sure equaliser.  Coach remarks to me later that Eitan and Jack "the unsung heroes" of the squad.  This makes five wins in a row, adding 15 points to the league table, placing Elm Grove second in the Premiere Elite division of the Surrey Youth Division. Plenty of season to go yet.

Finish Line

Sonnet and I aware that the Grand Adventure half-way over. In eight years the kids will be off to university or wherever they may go. Sonnet plans their bedroom furniture around this possibility.  Me, I wonder what it would be like without the commotion.

Our closest friends remain, mostly, those we met upon first-arrival to London and, sadly, many have returned to the US or wherever as part of the natural course of life.  My childhood friends have grown up into what they are and no longer what I knew - so no easy returns for us, should we go.  At Diane's wedding last year I met an elderly fellow who opened Lehman Brother's European offices in Paris. He was called back to NYC after seven-years and remarked: "While being an expat highly seductive, I would have stayed forever, neither belonging here nor there." I think this sometimes now. Thank goodness the trauma of being, you know, homeless immigrants, behind us yet I wonder : where is home really?

Sonnet at a cocktail party at the Italian embassy with Gretchen, who will spend the night at 45. Eitan at a rock-climbing birthday party and Kamila on the town. Madeleine does the "worm" on the kitchen-floor and we dance to Capital FM.

Line Up

 Madeleine cheers Eitan's race then lines up for her own : she is anxious since A) the competition one-year older and B) she has never run a race before.  There are butterflies.

Each borough school allowed a squad of five-runners or maybe 100 competitors in total (Nb: while fewer than the boys, I am delighted to see the enthusiasm the girl's race receives). Madeleine joined the school running team this year : the group trains once a week in Sheen Common and Richmond Park, led by the fabulous Ms. S and Mr. K.

Madeleine bursts from the front line and immediately swallowed by the pack. I hope for a reserved beginning, having bonked five marathons myself, and wait for her to appear at the bend... the moments go by.  Rusty pulls on the lead. Sonnet fidgets. There is a good turn-out of spectators, enough to line the final  couple-hundred meters to the tape.  And there our girl is! And working hard, too : face flushed wearing an expression of discomfort , pain? as she stairs blankly forward. Madeleine not without focus though, no Sir, as she passes two runners on her way to 14th place, and second on the school team.

I make sure Madeleine moves about to rid the toxins from her body. She tells me : "I feel horrible" , and fair enough.  These kids have put their hearts into the effort

Dog Fight

Eitan and Trygvie go head-to-head, again, in the Richmond borough cross country championships on a cold autumnal day in Richmond Park. Trygvie gets his sporting excellence from mom, Karen, also the coach, who runs ultra races and competed in this year's Iron Man in Hawaii; she is a sponsored tri-athelete.  Eitan's got me : dog walker, occasional calisthenics.  The boys line up with 200 others and, bang!, off they go disappearing around a bend .  The 1.5 Km race begins at Pembroke Lodge and includes a pretty substantial hill before the runners return to view for the final 300-meters.  A cheer goes up as Trygvie appears in the lead with Eitan on his shoulder .. Eitan puts in a surge and ahead by a stride but Trygvie does not fold and replies with his own effort.  The boys go roaring by : I can see their breath and hear the exertion.  Trygvie pips Eitan at the end , but I think really a tie. Both boys are winners.

Mom: "You are going to have such so much fun at your race."
Eitan: "Mom it is about winning."

Floods

Floods : Madeleine's got 'em. She grows like the root of a tree, this kid.

There was always a child in my public grade school, sometimes me, sometimes Katie, whose trousers an inch or two above the ankle. Inevitably this kid had snot coming out of his/her nose, wiped along the arm of an already dirty long-sleeve shirt. Usually s/he ridiculed by his peers. The playground a brutal place , no doubt, but sometimes life lessons learned.

Thankfully this not our Madeleine who makes her 'floods' cool ('floods' BTW suggest highwaters and, though similar to capri pants, they differ in that they appear to be too short to be worn). Michael Jackson thought stylish, too, with his black leggings slyly exposing his white socks.  Both natural performers, our Madeleine and Michael, and last night Madeleine plays her trumpet in a jazz-band performance at some public school in Teddington (we get lost en route, even with sat nav, so I curse like an Officer which makes Madeleine  uncomfortable, poor child). Her tunes joyous and, though our gal nervous , I don't detect a hesitation once on stage. Sonny Rollins would smile.

Me: "School's on strike. .. "
Madeleine: "Whoopie!"
Me: "It is not a holiday, young lady. We are going to do some work."
Madeleine: "What?! That is so unfair!"
Me: "That is the way it is. I want a three-page book report from you."
Madeleine: "Three pages?!"
Me: "Yes. Single spaced, no pictures. And no large writing this time either. I want it done before Nicki comes over for a play date."
Madeleine: "But I was going to sleep in!"
Me: "Sleep in. Just make sure the report is done by noon. Or no play date."
Madeleine: "Nobody else is going to be writing some book report on a holiday."
Me: "Too bad for you. And it is a teacher's strike. Not a holiday."
Madeleine: "Whatever Dad.. You always have to ruin it."

Flur

I have one of those wonderfully awkward moments that only happens in an office when, in Paris, an assistant suggests that "there are some who don't like your long hair" ; "some" meaning the founder of the buyout firm I am with, of course. Being no dummy when money involved, I make an appointment with Sonnet's hair stylist 'Tim Williams Hair Design' in Barnes. Subsequently I find myself the sole male customer in an otherwise bustling salon. Tim, for his part, a wonderful character who conditions my hair then gives me tea and a few style magazines to read while he collaborates on a middle-age woman's hair colour: "Oh, honey, just go with what feels right" he coaxes.  Metro-sexual heaven, dude. Tim and I chat about this and that and the celebrities in the neighbourhood and house designs and so on and so forth. My glasses off and Tim notes (alarmingly ) "don't be alarmed, Dear, it is only a work of art."  

It is nearly December and autumnal as the wind blows the sidewalk's leaves , back lit by a low sky with hues mostly of grey and brown . I bicycle by the Thames with her tide 'out' and the riverbanks exposed and muddy. The Barnes Bridge delivers the underground which adds a splash of red and blue as the metro whizzes overhead.  It takes me back to my first winters in New York with the same urban bleakness : a friend I admire once told me that "a city becomes beautiful after 200 years" and, mostly, I agree with him.

'throw

Me, moments before strangling Eitan.

Madeleine and I walk Sonnet to the bus stop. At Cafe Nero: "It is so unfair that I can't have a treat."
Me: "Life is unfair. Let's do this. You ask me a question, anything at all, and I will see if I can answer it."
Madeleine: "Do we have to Dad?"
Me: "Give it a try."
Madeleine: "How did they know the world wasn't flat?"
Me: "That's excellent.  Let's see. People used to think the world flat and the sun and the moon circled around us. Kind of arrogant, don't you think?"
Madeleine:
Me: "When we are just one of a billion stars in the universe."
Madeleine: "That's pretty small, isn't it?"
Me: "We are smaller than a speck of dirt."
Madeleine: "Whoa."
Me: "Aristotle, anyways, over 2000 years ago, one of the first dudes to think the world is round.  To measure the curve, he knew that the sun directly overhead at the summer solstice, and so he was able to measure the angle of the shadow , which he did at Alexandria, which was about 1/50th of a circle, he estimated. Then he measured the distance Alexandria to Syene, another ancient city, and was able to use the two points, plus the angle, to determine the earth's circumference."
Madeleine: "Do you want to know three other ways?"
Me: "Of course."
Madeleine: "One. You can see the earth's shadow on the moon."
Me: "Excellent."
Madeleine: "Two. Ships disappear on the horizon and, if the world was flat, you would see them until they were a little dot."
Me: "Brilliant."
Madeleine: "And Christopher Columbus said so, too, when he sailed to America."
Me: "Good stuff, kiddo. Gold star."

Golden Balls

Elm Grove defeat Barnes Eagles for the second time in a month : this time, 2-1 , which sees a spirited opponent up for the match and playing good football. Eitan and Jack dominate the back-field and continue to be an effective defensive pair: Jack brings the powerful sweep while Eitan disrupts the forward attack with multiple cutting touches. Barnes a posh neighborhood ("cute", says Eitan) and , while their boys play hard, tackling, football, the sideline notably reserved. Compared to Elm Grove, that is. Ours, whose parents include a stewardess, cabbie, couple of brick layers and the like, vocal: "Get the ball in there, Lad! No, not like that! Talk to each other!!"

Me, I keep mostly quiet and let Eitan do his stuff. Everybody thinks I am a weirdo, anyway, since I go jogging then do yoga-stretches like the "half-moon" pose or the "triangle" which is particularly embarrassing to Eitan for some reason. Poor kid just wants to fit in.

"A people that values its privileges above its principles soon loses both."
--Eisenhower

"'Cause it's a bitter sweet sympthony, this life."

--The Verve

Tooting

We meet friends in south London for an Indian experience. Tooting an urban area, dense, without trees nor greenery and snarling traffic inching down the High Street.  The shops mostly down-scale with "All For A Pound", Halal butchers, Vetec Electronics and etc and so on. Our friends delayed by a motorcycle accident which the ambulance cannot reach because of the two-lane two-way.

This might be a cool place to live with the right attitude : ethnic and vibrant : I see joggers pass elderly women in hajib. There are plenty of restaurants while the Undergound zips young professionals straight to the City.

I chat with Ms. Munawar of "Punjab Sweets & Restaurant" who tells me she and her husband bake everything behind the counter.  She is proud of her family business and I can only imagine how she got here.  There are a number of other staff with the women dressed in Sari and heads wrapped, faces partially covered, while the men in trainers, sloppy and casually uncaring while they really do. None of them speak passing English. At the back of the restaurant a mobile phone shop being installed. Not an inch to waste.

Madeleine: "Have you ever held a chinchilla?"
Me:
Madeleine: "You aren't taking me seriously, are you Dad?"
Me: "It's just that nobody has ever asked me that before."
Madeleine: "They are the size of a football. And cuddly."
Me: "Good to know."
Madeleine: "So can we get one?"
Me: "Talk to your mother."
Sonnet: "Oh, no, don't you dare."
Madeleine: "If Dad says it's Ok, can we get one?"
Sonnet: "We are not getting a chinchilla."
Me: "Let's get a goat!""
Madeleine: "Yes! Really?"
Sonnet: "Your Dad is winding you up, Madeleine."
Madeleine: "So a chinchilla is Ok then?"
Sonnet: "We are not getting a chinchilla. We are not getting a goat."
Me: "I was on your side, too, kid. "
Madeleine: "It is so unfair."

Madeleine Breakfasts

Madeleine and I take Rusty to the dog-pond in Richmond Park where the pooch frolics with other dogs and generally wares himself out. I meet a heavy-set dude in a hunting jacket with a fancy camera and we talk about photography for a while then private equity as he is a lawyer at a known firm in the City. These walks with Madeleine allow our unpressured together. Sometimes, like this morning, the subject of sex comes up and she wants none of it from Dad. I tell her that I would rather the uncomfortable conversation now than her unprepared later.

Madeleine: "How many comics do you have?"
Me: "I don't know, maybe 500 or something. Why?"
Madeleine: "Do you like them?"
Me: "Yeah. When I was a kid I would  walk across campus to Comics And Comix on Telegraph and spend an hour leafing through the boxes, looking for that one missing copy of Spider Man or the Hulk from my collection. Then I would go to Blondie's for a slice and a coke."
Madeleine: "Are they worth any money?"
Me: "I suppose they're worth something. All for you one day, Kid."
Madeleine: "How much?"
Me: "I don't know. Maybe $1000. Could be more."
Madeleine: "Wo-o-oa. You are rich."
Me: "I don't think 1000 bucks makes you rich these days."
Madeleine: "It does if you are me. I have, like, £100."
Me: "That's not so bad."
Madeleine: "I'm totally broke."
Me: "You're a kid."
Madeleine: "You owe me my allowance."
Me: "Oh?"
Madeleine: "For three weeks."
Me: "Noted."

Going Stag

I had two bachelor parties : one in New York, when a bunch of MBAs took me to Peter Lugers in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, followed by a strip joint. From there things went downhill fast ending at Times Square at dawn with no money to get home.

My second stag (pictured, with Joe Montana) in San Francisco with a different group and notable for many reasons including the bowling ball Roger chained to my leg and I threatened to roll down Nob Hill, making Roger more than anxious. Just like college. Just like now. Sam also with us and the only one to, you know, actually talk to some pretty girls. Just like high school. Just like now.

As ever, the evening ended with "entertainment" and ours at the Mitchell Brothers O'Farrell Theatre in the Tenderloin district. Wiki states "O'Farrell the oldest and most notorious adult-entertainment establishment in the country" and Hunter S. Thompson adds: it is "the Carnegie Hall of public sex in America". Famous alum include John Holmes (porn star), Marlyn Chambers (porn star), Megan Leigh (porn star), Fallon (porn star), Annette Haven (porn star), Nina Hartley (porn star) and Erica Boyer (porn star). And so on and so forth.

Yes, I have been to worse. Like my friend S who had candle-wax melted on his scrotum by a prostitute.  Or the "performer" who was lactating. Why do otherwise sensible young men do this sort of thing, which,  inevitably,  leads to self-loathing or worse given the Internets? Sure, alcohol fuels the frenzy. Male bonding another. But mostly it is one last chance, perhaps missed or never in college, to play the ass. And really go for it.

The Brits do it better than most, too, given their propensity to drink like fish. They are also a bit smarter about it - for instance, they leave the UK . Why take the chance of being spotted comatose at some brothel in Shepherd Market? Prague has become the #1 stag location in Europe followed by Riga then Budapest, according to stagforyou.com, which is happy to set up everything for the lads.  Hen parties have , more recently, become equally popular.  

Me, I haven't been to a bachelor party since '96 and it is not something that I miss. Entirely.

Congo

I walk out of Uniqlo on Regent Street to find an assemblage of officers chaperoning a peaceful protest demanding free elections in the Democratic Republic of Congo, pictured. There are probably a thousand people and the vibe cheerful which is entirely the opposite of everything I know about the Central African country whose Second Congo War, beginning in 1998, devastated the country, involved seven foreign armies and is sometimes referred to as the "African World War". Despite the 2003 peace accords, fighting continues in the east of the country. In eastern Congo, the prevalence of rape and other sexual violence is described as the worst in the world by the Washington Post. The war is the world's deadliest conflict since World War II, killing 5.4 million people since 1998. The vast majority died from malaria, diarrhea, pneumonia and malnutrition.

Comics & Comix

To the kids great pleasure (and my secret enjoyment), Stan sends the Sunday funnies from the Montrose Daily Press.  They are all there, too : Doonesbury (my all-time favorite), Garfield (what is that rascal up to this week?), Blondie (I always think of Roger), The Peanuts (my first comic), For Better Or For Worse (I've followed the family story-line since 9th grade) and so on and so forth.  There is sometimes need to police the grabbing but, for the most part, the Shakespeares well behaved when it comes to the breakfast table sharing.

Eitan uses his mobile phone to inform me he will be late coming home as he watches a school football match. Yep, we enter the Next Stage. Slowly, but surely, she comes.

Ball Gowns

Sonnet's Ball Gowns green-lighted for May 19, 2012, at the V and A and will be the first exhibition in the refurbished fashion gallery (image from the museum).

The expo to host 60 ball gowns from 1950 by designers like Vivienne Westwood, John Galliano and Alexander McQueen (his S/S 2011, pictured). A special shout goes to Gareth Pugh's metallic leather dress designed for the exhibition. Will he wear it, I wonder?

And, since this is England, Sonnet includes some Royalty like the Norman Hartnell designed for Elizabeth the Queen Mother, Princess Diana’s ‘Elvis Dress’ by Catherine Walker. Our informal Brit royalty on display, too: Daphne Guinness, Elizabeth Hurley and Bianca Jagger, Hardy Amies, Ossie Clark, Bill Gibb, Belleville Sassoon, Murray Arbeid, Bruce Oldfield and Julien MacDonald. The show's aim, as everything at the museum leading up to the London Olympics, to showcase British talent.

"Clothes and jewellery should be startling, individual. When you see a woman in my clothes, you want to know more about them. To me, that is what distinguishes good designers from bad designers."
--Alexander McQueen

McD's Distribution

On Thanksgiving, when America pigs out, it somehow seems meaningful to see how often where : pictured, the US visualised by distance to the nearest McDonald's. The clown is in your house.

Created by Stephen Von Worley

Smooth Criminal

Madeleine bakes ginger bread cookies which, she notes, "Is the hardest cookie I have ever made. And I have made loads of cookies."

Me: "What are you doing?"
Eitan: "Don't have a cow Dad. I'm only playing."
Me: "With red play dough? In the living room?"
Eitan: "It's not like any of it has fallen on the carpet."
Me: "Let me paint you a scenario. Me:  'How did this play dough get into the carpet? It's ruined. Eitan! No football for the rest of the season!' You: 'waa waa waaa . . ..'  I just saved you a lot of hardship, mister. "
Eitan: "I don't cry like that. That is how Madeleine cries."
Madeleine: "Huh?"
Me: "Eitan, were I you, I would quit while I was ahead."

Mad Hatter

Cool!

Madeleine and I have a movie-date and she chooses "Alice And Wonderland" from our local Blockbuster which is going out of business fast.  Johnny Depp is fun for about 30-minutes then I lose interest in the film and surf the net and blog. Pizza arrives and we have a perfect evening together.