Monday Morning

Sonnet bolts early and I walk the dog. I will swim a few laps soon - beats taking a shower. The kids wander downstairs dressed and ready to go and in a happy mood - Madeleine notes thumbs "middle to up" which is as good as it has been since last summer. Maybe it's the sunshine which floods into the conservatory and warms the kitchen.

Eitan makes breakfast.

Me: "What is that?"

Eitan: "I'm making cinnamon toast."

Me: "All I see is a lot of sugar."

Eitan: "That's the recipe. Sugar, cinnamon and toast."

Madeleine: "Eitan's not supposed to eat sugar in the morning."

Me: "Thank you, Madeleine. That won't be happening again."

Eitan: "Ohhh it's heavenly . . .."

Madeleine pokes her head into the bedroom as I am about to take a nap.

Me: "Hey, kid, what are you up to?"

Madeleine: "Um, nothing. I'm going to play the trumpet."

Eitan, lying on the floor with Rusty: "Rusty just stepped on my balls."

Madeleine, over the sink, drinks from a ladle.

Me: "What are you doing?"

Madeleine: "Discovering a new way of drinking."

First Spring

The first bulbs poke their way through the topsoil searching for sun and I know how they feel. I stamp my feet to ward off the cold on the sideline watching Eitan's KPR lose to the Whitton Wanderers in a must-win game for the blues should they wish to advance to the Premier League next season. Alas, our star goalie Maxime sick and the lads go down 5-3 in a game never that close. Eitan scores two goals and the team plays well but they squander their chances. KPR will be top of the mid-table. Eitan collects his thoughts afterwards and I give him his space.

Manchester United trails 3-0 against Liverpool.

Me: "It's not looking like a very good football day for you."

Eitan: "They still have a chance but it's not looking particularly good."

Me:

Eitan: "They have 24-minutes to score three goals."

Me: "There is still hope."

Eitan: "It is not very likely though."

Skip Kenney

Stanford wins its 30th consecutive Pac 10 swimming championships in Long Beach, Calfornia. Will and I disappointed as Cal favored going into the week end. The Cardinal racked up 911 points, followed by the Bears (864) USC (534), Arizona (483), Arizona State (273), UC Santa Barbara (184) and Cal Poly (158). 30 in a row - the last time Stanford lost the title I was a Sr at Berkeley High. For Pete's sake.

Stanford's success no doubt because of coach Skip Kinney (photo from Stanford), who has been with the Cardinal since '85. Not surprisingly, given yesterday, he has been the NCAA Coach of the Year six times and Pac-10 Coach of the Year 21 times; he was Head Coach of the US Men's Swimming Team at the '96 Summer Olympics in Atlanta and assistant coach at the '84 and '88 games. Like Mike Troy, Kenney from the military: Marine Corps, with combat in Vietnam for 13 months in 1965 to 1966; four months spent as a sniper. Kinney brings a military sensibility to training: "Whether you are racing or in combat, for you to be at your best, your mind takes over and your body follows. Your expectations rise." No shit - getting chased by the Cong in a 500 freestyle would bring the best out of anybody.

When I was a youngster I spoke to Kinney about swimming for Stanford though I would have been hard pressed to score a point at the Pac 10s looking at today's results (nor was I accepted to Stanford). Kinney was quiet and intense - few words but big presence - and he always had a smile or nice word when I saw him at swimming meets around Norcal.

Stupid Drivers

Maybe it's the cold grey morning but I've seen a few shocking things which confirm that most people are mindless or stupid. At the gas station, an Audi Q5 pulls up too far from the pump so the driver (male, 40s, wearing mocasins) stretches the hose while petrol sploshes about everywhere. Retard. A few moments later, a BMW (women driver, probably a local mom) mis-judges traffic and so stuck on the level crossing as the warning lights go so she honks furiously then guns her motor around incoming traffic. Or the various countless idiots who text while driving. Again, this morning: I watch a near-miss collision at a busy circus as some mope talks on his cell phone.

Here is the UK road kill from the Office of National Statistics:

In 2007, 646 pedestrians were killed in road accidents in Great Britain; this was 22 per cent of all deaths from road accidents, a 78 per cent decrease from 40 years ago when pedestrian fatalities were 2,964.

The total number of deaths in road accidents fell by 7 per cent to 2,946 in 2007 from 3,172 in 2006. However, the number of fatalities has remained fairly constant over the last ten years.

Nearly half (49 per cent) of people killed in road accidents were car users in 2007. Pedal cyclists and motor cyclists represented 5 and 20 per cent of those killed respectively. Occupants of buses, coaches, goods and other vehicles accounted for the remaining 5 per cent of road deaths.

The total number of road casualties of all severities fell by
4 per cent between 2006 and 2007 to approximately 248,000 in Great Britain. This compares with an annual average of approximately 320,000 for the years 1994-98.

The decline in the casualty rate, which takes into account the volume of traffic on the roads, has been much steeper. In 1967 there were 199 casualties per 100 million vehicle kilometres. By 2007 this had declined to 48 per 100 million vehicle kilometres.

The UK has a good record for road safety compared with most other EU countries. In 2006 it had one of the lowest road death rates in the EU, at 5.4 per 100,000 population. The UK rate was also lower than the rates for other industrialised nations such as the United States (14.3 per 100,000 population), Australia (7.8 per 100,000 population) and Japan (5.7 per 100,000 population).

Photo from the www.

Five Years And Blogging

To celebrate my fifth online anniversary I somehow feel the above vibe, captured at the American Ambassador's home in Regent's Park, London, in July 2005, appropriate seeing how the website began . . . .

To you, my family and dear friends, I write, in this otherwise vast and empty universe. Thank you for hearing me shout. And a special holler out to the Shakespeares, who make my life worth living.

JMO

Wazza's Bicycle Vs City (Getty Images)

Golden Jubilee Bridge

Here I am on another river crossing, this time the Golden Jubilee Bridge and one of two nouveau walkways bracketing the Charing Cross Bridge connecting the railway station/ Victoria Embankment and Waterloo across the way. Since you ask: There are 12 `public` bridges in London's centre+three rail bridges (Blackfriars, Charing Cross and Grosvenor Rail); A further 17 bridges cross west of Battersea Bridge until Hampton court bridge which is the last in London. Going East you also have the Queen Elizabeth Suspension bridge near Dartford. So the grand total is 33 bridges crossing the our mighty river.

BTW that small pointy thing next to the dude facing us will soon be Europe's tallest building.

Sonnet takes Madeleine to a Japanese restaurant for dinner.

Sonnet: "So, how am I doing as a mom?"

Madeleine: "I like the fun things you do with me ..."

Sonnet: "That's nice."

Madeleine: "But sometimes you say 'no' too much."

Sonnet: "Oh?"

Madeleine: "And, you know mom, sometimes we could have more sweat treats."

Sonnet:

Madeleine: "And sometimes you get my hopes up."

Sonnet: "Like when?"

Madeleine: "Today it was the play date" [Sonnet got the day wrong which made Madeleine cry].

Sonnet:

Madeleine: "Oh, and then there was that other one. It was bigger than a play date. Oh, I know! It was the walk with Natasha. You promised me that two weeks ago.. ."

Sonnet: "Thank you for telling me."

London Fashion Week 2011

Sonnet at last week's cat walks; below Mathew Williamson (first two shots) and John Rochas. Photos by Sonnet.

Mr Humbug

Mr Humbug - Madeleine's favorite shop in London, located at Waterloo station. She sometimes begs us to take her here. Museums, restaurants, theatre - nope. The tagline helpfully guides us: "Suck it and see." What the hell is that supposed to mean?

While on poor communication, I read the following shampoo ad posted on the Underground and written by pre-teens or MBAs - you pick. A company paid a salary and wall space for this:

Bulging handbags. Mobile phones. Emotional baggage.

That's quite enough to schlep around

Without a heavy conditioner adding to the extra burden of follicle flatness.

But hark! Who's this tripping lightly into view?

Enter Aussie 3 Minute Miracle deep conditioner.

Buzzing with what we call Luscious-Lightness

Not just a look. It's a whole way of life.

With just one not-unpleasant side-effect: Light Headed-ness

Hallway, Tate Britain

Madeleine works hard to get out of bed.

Me: "Sometimes life is hard, kid."

Madeleine: "Yeah."

Me: "But then sometimes you get exactly what you want. Can you think of a time when that happened to me?"

Madeleine: "That time when you got the snake?"

Me:

Madeleine: "I saw Alex's snake 'Fang' eat a mouse yesterday and there was blood and everything and at the very end when only its tail was left it looked like Fang's tongue."

Me: "That's not exactly what I was thinking."

Madeleine: "Well, what were you thinking then?"

Me: "When you were born, silly."

Madeleine, at breakfast: "Whose eaten the biscuits?"

Me: "Um, that might have been me."

Madeleine: "Dad! You had three of them."

Me:

Madeleine: "Can I have one now? Just for fun?"

Me: "You know the answer to that one."

Madeleine takes a biscuit.

Me: "Madeleine put that down right now. I mean it."

Madeleine: "Aw, and you are supposed to be 'Mr Fun Guy.'"

Another British Sunset

This time over Mildmay Park in north London.

The kids buzzy about setting a World Record for the most children singing "Heads, fingers, feat and toes (feat and toes)," as part of their school media project (Stan and Silver: sorry I failed to mention for holiday planning purposes. .). Their school connected to five burough schools via modern telecoms including, presumably, a very loud bull-horn or two. Eitan shrugs when I ask how many children - "couple of thousand?" he guesses.

Madeleine: "Dad, just for fun, can me and Eitan have a mini ice cream thing?"

Me: "No."

Madeleine: "Ok. I'm getting one. You can have one, too."

Me: "Did I just say something or imagine it?"

Madeleine: "It's just for fun. Can I have two?"

Me:

Luca and Tobacco Salad

Eitan with Anthony's kitten "Luca."

Me: "I'm making dinner."

Madeleine: "Are you making tobacco salad?"

Me: "Taco salad, yes."

Madeleine: "Can I put it in the garbage bag and mash it up with my hands?"

Me: "We're not going to do that this time."

Madeleine: "That's not very nice."

Me: "Here, chuck that in the recycling bin."

Madeleine: "Bad, Dad, it's pure lettuce."

Me: "So?"

Madeleine: "But it is pure lettuce!"

Eitan, reading from the Code of Conduct: "It says here that at The Hampton School I am not allowed to have facial hair."

Me:

Eitan: "Unless it's for religious purposes. Also you can't dye your hair an unnatural colour."

Me: "Can your hair be a rat's nest?"

Eitan: "And you have to button the top button of your shirt . . . ."

Me: "And worse: you're going to have to wear a tie every day."

Eitan: "I was expecting that."

Me: "Remember the last time you wore a tie? Oh, the sweet tears!"

Eitan: "Well, I was just a kid then."

Raquel Welch, on live television, with a cat in her lap: "Would you like to stroke my pussy?"

Johny Carson: "Sure, move the cat."

She sued The Tonight Show and won.

Islington

We pay "Uncle" Anthony a family visit Sunday - Anto lives in Islington, the cool part of town, and has moved into a sweet apartment overlooking London's chimney tops. While Anthony from Australia where his family own a farm and wine vineyards, he also has an Italian passport so Sonnet and I quietly discuss beforehand: can he cook? Despite his once working at restaurant-club Soho House and now holding a gig where he tests the bar drinks, his culinary skills never put on offer. At least to us. So we are delighted by his mushroom risotto served with a nice red wine. Anthony's business, Barmatrix, going great-guns and he now has 42 locations signed up serviced by 5 employees. At some point when Anthony starting his business I queried how many clients required to break even and the target was 15 or so.

Me: "Are you still happy with your haircut?"

Madeleine: "Yep."

Me: "Has anyone commented on it at school?"

Eitan: "Some kids in my class said she was weird."

Madeleine: "No, they didn't Eitan. That said I was 'a nutter.'"

Me: "And did you defend your sister?"

Madeleine: "No!"

Eitan: "I said 'she can do what she wants to do... '"

Cast Court

I am in the V&A the other day and aim to help raise some dough for this most wonderful museum. I spend the morning with Andrew and Leo who are part of the Corporate Development team reporting into the formidable Jane Lawson who I was with last month. While Jane is the Queen Bee with charm and gravitas, Leo down in the nitty gritty of things that need, well, money, including the Cast Court, pictured. (NB Unusually for a museum, the Cast Courts house a collection of copies mostly made in the 19th century. In a few cases, such as the late 15th century Lübeck relief of Christ washing the Apostles' feet, the original has been destroyed and the cast is unique record of a lost work.). We discuss my title and I am very happy to be the V&A's "Ambassador of Philanthropy" (a title they make up for me) or "Ambassador" for short.

The renovations part of the museum's FuturePlan 2 which will raise many £tens of millions from the Lottery and private donations. Perhaps the most exciting effort is The V&A Exhibition Road project which "will provide a purpose-built new gallery to present the V&A’s high-profile temporary exhibitions." The gallery will be below street level, with a new courtyard above for installations and events, overlooked by the V&A’s beautiful historic buildings. A new entrance from Exhibition Road will provide access to the courtyard, the new gallery, and the rest of the Museum. Leo tells me, with excitement, that it will be like Trafalgar Square.

If you are reading this, you will very likely be hit up for money.

February 29

This neat graph shows the date (in GMT) of the summer solstice (the moment the sun reaches it northernmost position in the sky, or the beginning of summer in the northern hemisphere) through the years. As the summer solstice occurs on the same astronomical date each year (although changes may occur on much larger time scales), the graph basically shows the difference between real, astronomical time and the Gregorian calendar. Each year, the Gregorian calendar is approximately 0.26 day faster than the astronomical calendar, which is corrected by a leap day once every four years. This 4-year cycle is clearly visible in the graph. To compensate for the largest part of the remainder of the difference, there is no leap year in 1800, 1900, 2100, 2200, as can be clearly seen in the graph, too. Note that the summer solstice in 1800 and in 2200 are not on equal dates; this shows that the leap year compensation as describes before is not perfect and more complicated schemes are necessary to keep the Gregorian calendar synchronized over even longer time scales.

In the Gregorian calendar most years that are evenly divisible by 4 are leap years. In each leap year, the month of February has 29 days instead of 28. Adding an extra day to the calendar every four years compensates for the fact that a period of 365 days is shorter than a solar year by almost 6 hours. However, some exceptions to this rule are required since the duration of a solar year is slightly less than 365.25 days. Years that are evenly divisible by 100 are not leap years, unless they are also evenly divisible by 400, in which case they are leap years. For example, 1600 and 2000 were leap years, but 1700, 1800 and 1900 were not. Similarly, 2100, 2200, 2300, 2500, 2600, 2700, 2900 and 3000 will not be leap years, but 2400 and 2800 will be. By this rule, the average number of days per year will be 365 + 1/4 − 1/100 + 1/400 = 365.2425, which is 365 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes, and 12 seconds.

The Gregorian calendar was designed to keep the vernal equinox on or close to March 21, so that the date of Easter (celebrated on the Sunday after the 14th day of the Moon—i.e. a full moon—that falls on or after March 21) remains correct with respect to the vernal equinox. The vernal equinox year is about 365.242374 days long (and increasing). The marginal difference of 0.000125 days between the Gregorian calendar average year and the actual year means that, in around 8,000 years, the calendar will be about one day behind where it is now. But in 8,000 years, the length of the vernal equinox year will have changed by an amount that cannot be accurately predicted. Therefore, the current Gregorian calendar suffices for practical purposes, and the correction suggested by John Herschel of making 4000 a non-leap year will probably not

be necessary.
Source: Calendopaedia - The Gregorian Calendar; graphic from Wikipedia

Self Portrait XVI

Sonnet And The Pooch

Sonnet and I spend the late afternoon in the park. The kids just old enough for me to think: one day it will again be only me and her.

Sunset, Richard Park

Aggie arrives to surprise the Shakespeares for an overnight at her place. God bless Aggie. She recently accepted a career job at Deloittes and her transition to London complete : from house cleaner to nanny to office job to office manager and now Deloittes, the largest private professional services organization in the world with 170,000 staff working in 150 countries, delivering audit, tax, consulting, enterprise risk and financial advisory services through its member firms. You go, girl. This allows Sonnet and me a weekend to ourselves and we begin at favorite Le Caprice with Todd and Jenn and Eli, who are in town for a wedding. Todd remains a partner at a large buy-out firm (and owns Dunkin Donuts, amongst other assets) while Eli a successful i banker at Morgan Stanley. We go back to those early, brow beaten, years where many of the best adventures lie.

"Nirvana when you are working so hard you could care less about dying."

--Gar Miller, Managing Director, Energy Group, First Boston, 1989 to me, Erik and John Delaney in the elevator

Style

Despite howls of protest, I drive into town with the kids and Aneta to meet Sonnet at the Royal Academy to see the mostly mediocre exhibition on British sculpture ("The show represents a unique view of the development of British sculpture, exploring what we mean by the terms British and sculpture by bringing the two together in a chronological series of strongly themed galleries, each making its own visual argument. . ."). Eitan, who races through the galleries with an aim to finish in five-minutes, back-tracks to find me and whispers: "There is an inappropriate art work in the next room" which makes me think with worry: It must be pretty bad. Turning the corner gallery, I find a wall display of "Page 3" girls, titties on flash display. The boy and I shuffle through the room while he covers his eyes and looks away - I like the redundancy. My suggestion that he might wake up one day to find a woman's breast the most interesting thing in the world receives horror and I tell him not to be too hard on himself should my prognostication hold true.

Otherwise, since I am with the kids yesterday, our day spent building a launch pad for model rockets, which I built 35 years ago with Todd. Now I have to buy the kit and revert to 1978 or '79.

Half Term