London to Paris

Here we are this morning at St Pancras off to France.  Sonnet has a number of museums to visit and tomorrow we will see the recently opened Islamic art wing at the Louvre.

Last Summer

A couple of French dudes enjoy the Indian summer in the 8e.

Summer is certainly over for French private equity as the Hollande government introduces an onerous tax framework that goes to the business like a laser guided torpedo : capital gains increase 45% to 65% (and may be considered income - if so, 75% over €1 M).  The tax deductibilty on interest for company debt to be reduced to 80% from 100%.  Then there is a social charge of up to 28% for every beneficiary of carried interest paid by the management company who oversees the funds.  In short, the socialist demand that the country's producers, who are also often rich, either cease operations or move to London (where capital gains fall to zero) or elsewhere.  France, one of the most attractive country's in the world for global foreign investment, may suddenly become the least.

I return from Paris to find Eitan, hair wet from swimming, hunched over his homework (Spanish : "I am nearly fluent" he offers, counting to ten) and Madeleine fast asleep - she puts herself to bed at 8:30PM which makes a big difference in the morning.

Eitan: "I thought I had turned in my chemistry homework two days late but actually I am two days early.  I am so relieved." [He hums]

Spaghetti

Me: "It must be nice to be a dog. All you have to worry about is your next meal. You don't care where you live. All you want is a little bit of affection .. . "
Eitan: "Yeah."
Madeleine: "Rusty wasn't very happy when you got him neutered."
Me: "Good point."

Game Girl

Madeleine plays 'Vertical Jump', which she says "is a fun game." She sings while she "jumps and tries not to get killed by skeletons."  Normally the rule is no computer games but she finished "Little House on the Prairie" and "Schooled" so I give her a break.

Eitan celebrates 12 - 12! - by making dinner (spaghetti and meatballs), a cake (sour cream chocolate cake with chocolate butter cream icing) and picking a  movie ("Tinton").  Elm Grove, after dispatching Bretford 3-nil, toss Eitan in the air.  Sonnet, Madeleine, Rusty and I on the sideline to cheer along the boy.  He also hums.

Yesterday was Katie's birthday - happy birthday Katie!

Red Robe

Eitan back from a Hampton match (the boys wear their school uniform since an away game) which Hampon wins 3-nil. He now pads around, "Man of the House", Sonnet notes. We watch  the '54 Godzilla, which is dark and awesome : remarkably made within nine years of Hiroshima and Nagasaki : the monster being the bomb unused on Tokyo.

Eitan on the 'A' squad and, he notes, three of his teammates play for academies.  Unlike most public (ie, private) schools, Hampton excels in football which is otherwise considered a sport for the masses - like baseball in the US.  The posh kids choose from rugby, rowing or maybe sailing. Hampton's intake is 50% state schools and so follows demand : in Eitan's year there are six soccer squads.

Madeleine joins the Barnes' Eagles and today has her second practise. Games to follow.

Madeleine: "Do giraffe's eat meat?"
Me: "Hmm?"
Madeleine: "Giraffe's. Are they vegetarian or something?"
Me: "I've never seen one eat a burger."
Madeleine: "Do they sleep in the grass?"
Me: "Doing some homework, are we?"
Madeleine: "I have this new game. Where do Giraffe's sleep ?" (Dad's note: Madeleine has an electronic game)
Me: "In a bed?"
Madeleine: "You are not helping my score."

Bluto and Brown

"Animal House", 1978

A further sign my alma mater losing out : Brown not ranked in the Playboy-Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer Top 10 party schools (Univ of Virginia #1).  When I was in college , we took some pride in being #13 and sniggered at places like Columbia and their uptight core curriculum and Latin requirements.  This was Brown in the '80s, trendy and full of confidence : the "experiment", introduced in '68 by Ira Magaziner, of zero academic requirements, pass or no-pass classes and no pluses nor minuses on traditional alphabet grades and anything lower than a "C" gone from the transcript  - well, that was all so vanguard. ..

I still get a lot of heat from my i banking friends who went to Harvard or Wharton Undergrad or some such place where the students forced to, you know, show up.  I recall, post college, interviewing candidates for Financial Analyst jobs and, without exception, the UPenn applicants presentable, able to use an HP12c, and could tell me the difference between a stock and a bond. Brown, on the other hand put up some awful kids ( tweed jackets, corduroy trousers .. one gal told me she had dyslexia) but also the very best . Brown always had something interesting to talk about.

Overall I felt the school got it mostly right : a fun place to learn, be challenged, find one's way and to party. This is all a part of the growing up (of course I did not think this at First Boston, where I was murdered for not knowing a balance sheet . .. ).  And these memories become all the more valuable the farther from the experience

BINTM

My pic taken on a photo shoot with Leon Saperstein

Not surprisingly, one of Britain's top rated shows, by viewership, is 'Britain and Ireland's Next Top Model' where a bunch of young women live together in close-quarters and compete for the title of, well, being Britain's next top model and a chance to be in the modelling industry. Ghastly but hey I am watching.  It's been a winner since 2005.

Here's the talent pre-screening (from the official website): "anyone with the right to live or work in Britain is free to apply for the show, but must meet the height requirement of 5'8", and be between the ages of 18-23 at the time they try out for the show." A perfect nose, blonde hair and subtle boobs would also be appreciated. But brains and personality count too - here is what Elle "The Body" McPherson has to say on the BBC comparing BINTM to the US "It is uniquely British, the sense of humour and the styling is very British... more hybrid backgrounds... and I think that is really exemplary of what's going on in the UK today."  Well there you go.

This contrasts with the real news suggesting that Scotland Yard failed to aggressively pursue girl-sexual grooming circles for fear of offending ethnic minorities primarily the Pakistanis.

"This is the end. This is literally the end."
--Model on last night's "Britain and Ireland's Next Top Model" finale

Sheen Lane At Sunrise

I walk by this ugly building, forever with its "temporary and long-term space available," every day on my way to the office or train station. I no longer see it yet, on a cold clear morning , it catches my eye : the sunrise makes it handsome somehow. Certainly urban.  There used to be a cinema at this junction but that was before my time and now long gone.

Rusty and I run at 5AM and I take a flashlight to see the trail in Richmond Park, which is completely deserted and pitch dark leaving only the stars and the bucks groaning and me with my scary thoughts (axe murderer ?).  As the false dawn arrives I remind myself : yes, indeed, we are on a small planet circling a mid-sized star in a universe that has hundreds of billions of them.  Rusty could care less which is the right way about it.

Madeleine: "Do you know what I just realised? I have to show all the new kids around the school." [Dad's note: open-house for the prospects this week]
Me: "You will make a great ambassador."
Madeleine: "I don't even know where the art department is. Or the science lab."
Sonnet: "Did I tell you the story about my friend's husband who was getting his PhD in chemistry and left his experiment in the lab over the weekend ? It blew up the science building!"
Madeleine: "Did he get a PhD for the explosion?"
Sonnet: "Probably not but imagine his Monday morning."

Oh Happy Day

Marcus and Adrienne arrive from Buffalo on their way to Barcelona and their honeymoon. This autumn, Marcus taking a few classes at Niagara University and working with a 501(c)3, supported with a fat grant from Knight Ridder, building a multi-media and information platform for five local charities; he is responsible for the project's design and delivery (NB Knight Ridder a US media and Internet publishing company and the second-largest newspaper business with 32 dailies).  Eventually Marcus's program may be rolled out across the country.

This morning the entire family on site for Elm Grove v. Ashford in the second game of the season. Unfortunately it is wet and cold so not much fun on the sidelines unless you are Rusty, who chases the other dogs across the pitch, buries his head into somebody's Starbucks pastry bag and jumps on Adrienne's white shirt.   The rest of us watch a gritty 2-2 draw highlighted by Eitan, who scores goal #2, coming off the sidelines, inside 30 seconds.  Elm Grove cheer and we dads pat each other on the back.

Madeleine in a tip top mood with her turtles to care for. This morning she de-frosts some blood worms (gross) and carefully measure the feeding amount. She peppers me with questions: where should I put their food? What if the turtles can't get it? Should I refreeze the blood worms and so on and so forth. I direct her to the pet shop - her turtles, her responsibility

Me: "Your turtles are going to live for 20 years."
Madeleine: "Yeah, so ?."
Me: "You will be, like, 30 when they die."
Madeleine: "I guess. .. "
Me: "By then you'll be done with secondary school ..  and your GCSEs, and A levels. University, your first job. First apartment. . . You may be married."
Madeleine:
Me: "You might have a kid. Or two."
Madeleine:
Me: "Holy catfish that is a lot of work. Does it seem that way to you?"
Madeleine: "The way you say it, it does."

King Kong Vs. Godzilla

I loved Godzilla and a highlight was the epic battle between the two greatest monsters : Godzilla vs. King Kong, which I saw at a now long-gone theatre on Cedar near 4th St in Berkeley (Katie set off the fire alarm going out the wrong exit).  That was '75 while the film from '62.

We had a wonderful carer, Taka, from Tokyo, and with us for maybe eight years including my parent's studio at 1530.  Taka taught me some simple Japanese phrases and translated the Godzilla picture books I bought in San Francisco's Japan-town : they were dense and pocket size, with photographs and cartoon caption in kanji.

Another way to catch the green lizard was Creature Features, hosted every Saturday from midnight by Bob Wilkins (w/ cigar), which occasionally showed Godzilla movies from the '60s. If not Godzilla, it was "13 Ghosts" about a haunted house with, well, 13 ghosts. And a Japanese film where some dudes in a boat land on a deserted island covered in toxic mushrooms .  Or "The Hand", which was a hand that could play the piano and stuff.

But nothing matched Godzilla : his mortal enemies included Mothra (giant moth), King Ghidorah (three headed fire throwing serpant. Real badass), Hedorah the Smog Monster (feeds on human pollution, super badass) and my favorite,Gigan, with his awesomeness abilities like flight, teleportation, abdominal buzzsaw, eye beams and stabby arms.

I've never been to Tokyo but I feel like I have known the Japanese forever.

The Turtle Has Landed

Madeleine gets her turtle(s).

Following a campaign that began early 2011 and moved from lizards to snakes to turtles, Madeleine finally has satisfaction in two musk turtles (she notes: "This is the second best day of my life". Dad's note: getting Rusty #1). The turtles will grow  to the size of a sand dollar (now they are quarter) and named 'Eric' and 'Nelson' on the ride home; they may live 20 years (or until I chuck them over the fence when Madeleine to college). Unfortunately they can't go in the pond , per original plan - apparently so many people have done this with the outdoor types that alien turtles have taken over Britain's rivers and channels - so instead we buy an aquariums kit complete with frozen 'blood worm' that the turtles eat. Or suck on or mash. Whatever the hell they do.

Madeleine thrilled by her new friends and, in truth, the set-up, with its glow light and lively water decorations, is pretty cool.  She has earned the pets, getting into Emanuel.

Madeleine: "Your memory is so much better than mine."
Me: "Are you kidding? You have a great memory."
Madeleine: "I can never remember anything. Like what I had for lunch Friday."
Me: "What did you have for lunch Friday?"
Madeleine: "Fish and chips. With ketchup, since it is only allowed on Friday."
Me: "How about Thursday?"
Madeleine: "I didn't really have lunch because it was some terrible Indian curie thing so I had a snack. Outside."
Me: "See?"
Madeleine: "It was raining, too."

Gucci, Baby

Sonnet returns, 12 Midnight, from Como, where she delivers the closing presentation for the RATTI Foundation's conference.  She speaks about how to display textiles within a fashion exhibition. Before that, she is at Milan fashion week and sees shows by Gucci, pictured. She is there with her new assistant, Lucia, who Sonnet hired for "La Moda". Lucia is a local, and smooths along the operations including organising top level meetings with archives, university profs and influencing agents.  She tells me: "it was a very attractive crowd and the heels were vertiginous." (Photo by Sonnet)

Madeleine and I hang out on her bed talking for 1.5 hours (I know the time because Madeleine says "Gee, Dad, we've been talking for 1.5 hours").  She has a lot on her mind, this kid, and I have to adjust myself : Madeleine is a little person and no longer a child (which she has not been for some time).

The girls at Emanual (Madeleine now tells me) are in to Hollister, Gillian Hicks and Abercrombie & Fitch and "£84 purple leather bags", which Madeleine rejects. I wonder if this effects her friendships ? but she seems to be doing fine : no steadfast goofs like Marcus or Alex, but this will come.

Me: "What do you want now?"
Rusty: "Woof, woof, woof!"
Me: "There you go, let  me get you some breakfast."
Rusty: "Woof! Woof! Woof!"
Me: "Ok, Ok, I'll get the lead."

Taxi, Sir?

Madeleine and I to school.

I talk to James, a black cab driver, about "The Knowledge", which every driver must posses before receiving a taxi license.  It is by far the world's most demanding taxi training course requiring at least twelve 'appearances' (attempts at the final test), after preparation, which can take up to five years.  James took two years to complete his examination but "I was doing it full time", he tells me. The Knowledge based on learning 320 routes (or "runs") which help the driver learn the 25,000 streets and 20,000 landmarks and places of interest in the six mile radius of Charing Cross. Once licensed, the taxi can work anywhere in the Greater London area.  Taxi drivers have 3% more brain mass than the general public, according to taxi drivers.

James works the night-shift,  6PM until 4AM, which gives him more and better fares : after 8PM, rates increase 50%; after 10PM it's double until 6AM. Cabbies make a good living, too :  £70 grand on average or twice London's per capita.  James tells me of a friend who sold his house to train up for the license.

It works, too : I have never, ever, met a taxi driver unable to identify the most obscure London street.

So 80s

Since I am tripping nostalgic on '80s music , I continue this thread with a long old favourite, Morris Day and The Time, with its seminal '82 hit "777-9311".  This was a top choice from my vinyl collection.

After Prince hit the music scene in the early ‘80’s (the black girls at West Campus introduced us to "Controversy" in '81), he brought along an entourage that was part of the Minneapolis music scene. The Time was the first of several , which also included Sheena Easton.  I took these bands to college with me, dancing to their beats at Brown's Funk Night or Manhattan's Palladium.

The Time, led by the bold, outrageous and flamboyant swagger of lead singer Morris Day, had a funk/rock/dance sound with hard-driving guitar riffs, heavy bass lines, and toe-tapping drums. It was an all freak '80s competition with Rick James whose songs included “Super Freak” and “Give it to Me Baby”, which titillated me and my teen-age peer set. It also led the way for other genre-busting black artists like The Bus Boys and Run-D.M.C.  Not only was The Time blurring and blending music styles, but, like Prince, was making music that had no black or white label or specific audience.

"777-9311

I wanna spend the night with you if that's alright"

--Morris Day and The Time, the second track and lead single from The Time's second album, What Time Is It?

Coltrane And Prison

John Coltrane (who I listen to now) pioneered the use of different modes in jazz and, later, he was at the forefront of the free jazz movement of the '50s and '60s.

I try to get the Shakespeares to listen to Red Garland, Miles Davis and Coltrane but they don't get it, going for Capital FM with its same awful interchangeable screeching songs: Rihanna could be Nicki Minaj who is Katy Perry or Jesse J. It is all crap but, then, this is what my parents must have thought when Sheena E belted out "Come inside my sugar walls" in '84. Ghastly, but I loved it.

I take Madeleine to school on the No. 337 bus, upper deck, front row, staring into the glorious morning sunshine since it is 7:15AM. Madeleine and I practise spelling words from flip-cards, she reads some "Little House On The Prairie" and becomes concerned about the traffic in Wandsworth : tardiness merits a "signature", and she shows me her green-card which, so far, has 12 or 13 "accommodations" for good behaviour and no signatures. Madeleine proving herself to be a striver.

Me: "Don't worry, there are other Emanuel kids on the bus."
Madeleine: "If you get thirty 'signatures,' you are kicked out of school."
Me: "That is so harsh."
Madeleine: "If you get twenty, then you are expelled."
Me: "What happens then?"
Madeleine: "You have to stay in your room. And can only leave to go to the toilet and stuff."
Me: "Sounds like prison."
Madeleine: "It is worse. Plus you have to see the Head Master."

Sonnet And Rusty

Rusty nabs a treat.

I pick up Eitan from his first school field trip, an overnight to Avon Tyrrel, where the boys do team building exercises like building a raft, climbing structures, communication games - usual stuff. Eitan tells me it worked : "I now know everybody in my form."  In MBA school I had to do similar things usually with alcohol involved.

Eitan: "Rusty. Rusty. Rusty!"
Me: "What?"
Eitan: "He's digging into his balls."

Conference Party

Firing us all up, the cover-promo of the "Renewable Energy Forum 2012" notes : "Identifying value in a rapidly growing asset class."

Sonnet in Milano this week for fashion week and to speak at a conference. She prepares for her 2014 exhibition "La Moda" and so meets lots of fashionistas from academia to aziendale. It's not all shirt skirts and ballgowns.

I wake Madeleine at 6AM (her request) since I run with Andrew. Our gal bravely nods "awake" then  sleeps for a half-hour.   Madeleine has a spelling quiz each week covering 15 pre-decided words. Missing two gets the dreaded "signature", which makes me think (for some reason) of the red light on my phone at First Boston : whenever blinking, some message, usually meaning more work or calamity. Stress.  Madeleine nailed 15 of 15 last week.

"A panel of LPs give their impressions of the current marketplace for renewable energy investment, where they see the value and risks unique to a renewable energy asset and the role of the investment in a wider infrastructure portfolio."
--Renewable Energy Forum 2012 (where I won't be going)

Footsie

Madeleine is 6.5 adults (green laces) and bigger than Sonnet's foot by a size. Go figure.

Madeleine: "At school, I was in the changing room with the year-nines, and a girl said  'OMG Those are clown's feet!' " 
Me: "And how did that make you feel?"
Madeleine: "Not amazing."  
Me: "I bet. What happened next?"
Madeleine: "Once the girl realised they were mine, she apologised. I told her 'it happens a lot.' "
Me: "You are going to be six foot tall kid."
Madeleine: "Six foot tall. Okay, Dad."
Me: "Just you wait and see."

Fast Food, American Style

Here is what we have for lunch in Delaware (Mind you, I am with a Parisian).

The remarkable thing about US cities, forgotten or unnoticed by Americans, is the homogeneity : Wilmington looks like Austin which looks like Denver which is like Columbus and so on and so forth. Outside of a few Big Cities (and there is an argument that NY or LA are not American but international megalopolises) each has the same nondescript modern skyline, eight or so tall buildings concentrated around each other, highways in and out .. an aiport. Inside one finds a museum, Radisson or Four Seasons, maybe a zoo and, of course, fast food including the Boston Market.

I choose Boston Market (formerly known as Boston Chicken) as I think it our healthiest option for a quick lunch.  I can barely understand the cashier who offers "getasaladandsouplunchcomboforonly4ninetyfive" Huh? My chicken Caesar sandwich something special and I let it be after several bites knowing it could still be there, waiting for me, in two years time.  (Thierry goes for BBQ, pictured)  It is unclear if my credibility enhanced introducing him to the modern American concept of replication/ commoditisation or falls given, well , the food.

In 2007, Boston Market (initials appropriate BTW) had over 600 restaurants in 28 states (last public filing).  No doubt there are more today.

Soda Fountain

From New York to New Haven to Delaware, Philadelphia and finally home - in this case, Berkeley - where I have dinner with Moe and Grace and here we are for breakfast at Saul's.  My parents celebrate their 50th anniversary in December.

Madeleine sits in front of her computer making a list and scratching off names.
Madeleine: "We definitely don't want a musk turtle."
Me: "hmm?"
Madeleine: "Because they are buried in the mud all day and they stink."
Me:
Madeleine: "They're also called a stink pot."

Madeleine: "I just thought of a great name for Rusty."
Me: "Oh?"
Madeleine: "Jimmy."
Me: "Jimmy?"
Madeleine: "I just thought of it. I don't know why."