I took exams (second quarter). I got straight A’s. I work too hard. I don’t need A’s. I’m too old for that – been there, done it. I need a better social life. I’m not going to work so hard any more. You heard it here first.
I went to my brother Russell’s wedding. After an enormous quantity of years, perhaps 15, he and Holly got married. Josh, my nephew, gave her away and he was very funny. When they asked if anyone knew of any just reason why the two should not be joined in matrimony, he shouted, “Me, Josh Brady!” “You say that at the next bit, Josh,” replied Russ.
The wedding was really quite surreal. I got to meet my biological father for the first time since I was one year old. Most relatives at the wedding didn’t know I existed. There was quite a buzz, I don’t mind telling you. There were some very entertaining ‘double-take’ moments when, being introduced as Russ and Craig’s sister, newly met cousins came back over minutes later saying, “I’m sorry. Did you say sister?!” To cut a potentially very long story short, it went very well and without drama, and I am very happy that my father and I have met (and his wife of 22 years, Debbie).
David and Debbie
Avis looking very classy mother of the groom!
I came back to England for three weeks and saw an enormous number of friends and family, but unfortunately not all. For those I saw, it was wonderful and I have been a little sad since I got back, missing you all.
Sally and I spent days (and Andrew and I spent one) at Wimbledon. Sal and I were at THE final. Go Rafa, you darling, sweet, pant-hoiking, full of tics, lovely! Firstly, let me say that this is a real admission of aging: he completely brings out my maternal instincts. When exactly does that happen? A drop-dead gorgeous, delicious, fit, charming, young Spaniard – Maternal?! Seriously, Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer (if Carling made tennis players…) are those most magnificent sportsmen. They are professional and competitive, whilst being fair and respectful. They are a credit to tennis and make it all the more wonderful at this point in history. We sat through an epic men’s final: through hours and hours of play and rain and delays. John McEnroe said it was the best game of tennis ever played. Who am I to disagree with Johnny Mac?
Mogens
Centre Court, July 7th, 2008
The Best Final EVER
Rafael Nadal
Sal was supporting Roger. She told me that after the match she watched the interviews and he just looked crushed, saying it was his hardest loss ever and he couldn’t appreciate whether it was a good match or not, and there was no point in talking about the light because it was all over now. He sounded completely distraught and close to tears. Poor Roger, with only Mirka (his girlfriend) and her Gwen Stefani records (they are mates, she was at the game) and gum supply (Mirka is never to be seen without a moving jaw) to console him.
I returned to my Oak Street ‘pied a terre’ to be greeted by the dogs. Emma licked me for about 15 minutes. My skin was raw. I love her. Good to see the flatmates but still serioulsy considering a move back down to L.A. Anyway, we had a brilliant evening out at the Eddie Izzard gig: Stripped. Mr.I on superb form again.
My first weekend back turned into a bit of a nightmare. Jill, Max and I got some free tickets to the San Francisco symphony orchestra’s summer season. Fantastic! The Dvorak Slavonic Dance No.9, a furiant, a dance full of fire and shifting accents, and Symphony No.9, a rambunctious movement, at once glowingly lyrical, and in finale, as if it hadn’t enough inspired tunes of its own, larded with recollections of earlier movements (according to the magnificently ‘up its own’ accompanying brochure). However, on Friday night, Jill and I returned to the car to find her dog Hannah missing. We pounded those streets. Jill came back into San Francisco on Saturday morning with her sister-in-law, and her boyfriend, and we fly posted the city. Hannah was found on Sunday morning – thank whoever!
But I have to tell you about some of the experiences we had looking for her. Firstly we were accused of ‘deserving her to be missing’ on account of leaving her in a car outside a house where there were children. Children who were laughing, as Jill was screaming and crying, and shouting that they had shot at the dog. As Jill and her sister-in-law were going round with posters asking if anyone had seen Hannah, a woman shouted out of the window to them to ‘go away’ as they were obviously pedophiles. Hannah was actually spotted inside a community centre on Friday night, less than an hour after disappearing, when we were probably a block away. They ushered her out of the building and THEN called Animal Control. Needless to say we didn’t find her that night: nor the next night. We had some choice things to say about some of these people. However, I suppose we have to conclude that if we don’t believe in freedom of expression for those we despise, we don’t believe in it at all (as Noam Chomsky tells us). But there were some lovely people who helped enormously and were really sweet and concerned.
Things continue at school: exams, lots of studying. Some joyous things on the horizon for this quarter: an imminently pending visit from Dave, an August visit from John S after his California Board Exams (we summon the entire exam passing Qi in the universe for the Glorious 12th) to get celebratorially bo!!ocksed, and my wonderful and completely adored Aunty Rose and Uncle Jim coming over from Australia in September. Jim and I share the Barnacle, ‘it could only happen to you’ gene. Watch this space!
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