Dear Red States...

My friend Johann sent me this. Fortunately it won't be necessary for the next four years...but maybe it's not a bad idea anyway?


If you manage to steal this election too we've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking the other Blue States with us. In case you aren't aware, that includes California, Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois and all the Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.

To sum up briefly: You get Texas, Oklahoma and all the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches. We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood.

We get Intel and Microsoft. You get WorldCom.

We get Harvard. You get Ole' Miss.

We get 85% of America's venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama.

We get two-thirds of the tax revenue, you get to make the red states pay their fair share.

Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22% lower than the Christian Coalition's, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms.


Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we're going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they're apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don't care if you don't show pictures of their children's caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq , and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we're not willing to spend our resources in Bush's Quagmire.

With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80% of the country's fresh water, more than 90% of the pineapple and lettuce, 92% of the nation's fresh fruit, 95% of America's quality wines, 90% of all cheese, 90% of the high tech industry, 95% of the corn and soybeans (thanks Iowa!), most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal,all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools plus Stanford, Cal Tech and MIT.

With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88% of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92% of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100% of the tornadoes, 90% of the hurricanes, 99% of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100% of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia.

We get Hollywood and Yosemite, thank you.

Additionally, 38% of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62% believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the war, the death penalty or gun laws, 44% say that evolution is only a theory, 53% that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61% of you crazy bastards believe you are people with
higher morals then we lefties.

Finally, we're taking the good pot, too. You can have that dirt weed they grow in Mexico.

Peace out,

Blue States

Yes he can!

Words escape me. I've had plenty of emails from you all since Tuesday. If you thought the election of Barack Obama felt special in England and Australia you should have been here.

With Justine in the Castro on Tuesday night.

They come from a land down-under

It’s almost impossible to believe that two weeks can go so quickly, but indeed they have and I begin this Saturday with a chunk of chores necessary for school on Monday. So much for sorting out files, clearing notes, making sense of the teetering mass of revision notes: they sit as they were left precisely 15 days ago. It’s been a good holiday even though it did start with two days of work for my old job in London (by ‘start’ I mean I left my final exam at 2.15pm and returned home to immediately sit at the laptop for 8 hours writing a grant contract).

It improved enormously once I headed north in the hired car (what fun!) to spend the weekend with Chris on the other side of the bridge. His ‘Grizzly Adams’ tendencies definitely took a turn for the worse when he started living in a shack in the middle of nowheresville, Marin. Powered only by kerosene in a 5 gallon tank, his living is frugal to say the least. A middle of the night trip to the bathroom involves risking life and limb, navigating in the pitch black to a restroom that has no running water (kerosene off) and a poisonous spider trapped in a glass on the side of the basin. Who knows what lurks in the space in the roof (it still ‘belongs to the cabin’ apparently)? So we picnicked, ate, went to a band, ate, sat on the beach, ate and ate and drank some more.

Wednesday saw the arrival of the uncle and aunty from the antipodes; or more correctly from Nova Scotia and week 6 of their round the world ‘visit-relie fest’. Even the imminent arrival of my Uncle Jim saw my propensity for near disaster spring like a phoenix from the flames. Oh my! How apt! You see, knowing that I was picking them up later in the day, I pottered around the house doing house-pottering type stuff: cleaning my room, changing sheets, preparing for guests, leaving my ablutions and dressing until closer to departure time. So mid afternoon I took a well earned break from the chores as all was spruce and perfect for their arrival. I plonk myself on the steps outside, call Arron in Los Angeles, we are chatting away and I lit a cigarette (yes, I know I shouldn’t). Unfortunately I also dropped the match and my turquoise blue, snuggly monkey pyjamas set on fire. I watched, as in slow motion the flames, at first confined to the merest edge of my pyjama bottoms, licked up my legs to my groin and I tried to whip off my pants with my feet whilst continuing the conversation with Arron. She thought it very ‘English’ of me as I asked her, “Can you excuse me for just a moment. My trousers are on fire and I need to just put them out.”So Arron, I am sorry that we had to finish our conversation with you knowing I was sitting in a thong on the steps. I know it’s not a pretty thought.

Poor Jim was in a bad way with three bulging discs but he was stoic about the whole thing (you decide: true or false?!). We had a car so still managed to get around and do loads of really great stuff, he just wasn’t able to walk very far and especially not up any hills. San Francisco? Hills? Tricky. Having the car has completely opened my eyes to just how beautiful Northern California is and I have decided I unreservedly LOVE it. The scenery in Marin, the coast lines and redwoods, and the hills and vineyards over into Napa and Sonoma were breathtaking. In many ways it did remind us all of South Australia and the wine country of the Barossa. It was a thoroughly enjoyable week with Jim and Rose as I also got to really discover my city. It was the first time I have really explored Chinatown and rummaged through antique shops, farmers’ markets. My Aunty Rose is a fantastic shopper and we had a ball in Chinatown. There were so many things to buy. But you can’t have everything. Where would you put it?

We even did the compulsory tourist trip to Alcatraz which was actually rather eerie, cells no more than 8’ by 5’, wind whistling round The Rock. Alcatraz was the only thing Jim had specifically requested to do during his trip and his disappointment was palpable when we realised that once off the ferry there was a viciously steep climb equivalent to 13 flights of stairs to reach the prison building. Of course, it was a maximum security jail for the worst of the very worse. They weren’t going to make it a gently meandering, undulating stroll off the island, were they? Fortunately, ‘higher power of some kind’ bless America, there was a disabled bus to take him all the way to the top which we had to walk beside as they told us about the daring (or frankly stupid) escape attempts. As a long-term sports lover, this perhaps wasn’t quite the holiday snap he had in mind.

Indecision may or may not be my problem.

I’ve been so tardy. I have so much to say. I don’t know where to start. Let’s do it chronologically and briefly. You might still need to get a cup of tea and some survival rations before you start…

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!

But some are more equal than others…

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal."
From the Declaration of Independence.

A TV interviewer was interviewing a random sample of people about what they knew of Samuel Adams. Samuel Adams, if you don’t know, was one of the founding fathers of the USA who signed the Declaration of Independence, 4th Governor of Massachusetts and a very famous brewer of exceptionally good beer (the Boston Beer Company – still excellent). Most people he questioned said they knew him as a beer maker: nothing else. Shocking. Then he decided to push a little and after the same response from his next interviewee, asked if they knew any other reason why Samuel Adams was famous. The man thought for a while and then said, “Doesn’t he now make a light beer?”

I will be very busy for the next two weeks, finals for this quarter, but then three lovely weeks in England with three lovely, lovely days at Wimbledon. Hoorah! I hope to get to see you all.

Here's a selection of pictures from the ballgame at the SF Giants stadium (AT&T park).

Every major food group: Dibs seller.


Justine eating a 'delicious' hotdog.













The best seat in the house?!




AT&T Park

The "Eh" Team

Canadians don't deal with the same kind of health care problems and traumas we face. They have a health care system based on treating hockey injuries and curing sinus infections that come from trying to pronounce French vowels.
P. J. O'Rourke

I arrived at Vancouver airport last Friday. Laura, her niece, Arja, and Arja's 9 month-old baby, Danica (an absolute poppet...you'll know why I say that later), were there to greet me. Full of chatter we headed to the car for the 2 hour drive to her house in Harrison; a picturesque small town quite close to the US border, built on hot springs, nestled in mountains on the edge of the Vancouver river, bursting with wildlife, seals, sturgeon, bears. It was a beautiful summer’s day. They got a little lost when they picked me up, even though they had a TomTom, and ended up at the aquaplane airport a short distance from Vancouver International. Naturally there was some playful banter and ‘ribbing’ in the car, especially as on the way back we were looking for a turnoff to a place called ‘Hope’; “Ignore Arja. She got us lost last time. Ignore the TomTom. It’s still on English time. We’ll just point the car and ‘HOPE’ we get there.” Etc, etc, chuckling to ourselves thinking how amusing we were.

Precisely one and a half hours after landing in Canada, most of which had been taken up going through Immigration in Vancouver airport, I was sitting in the car looking at a sign which said ‘Welcome to the United States’. The US Immigration officer came up to the car, “Welcome to the United States ladies, may I see your passports, please…”. As I was the only person in the car who was theoretically visiting another country, you can take an educated guess as to how many passports there were in the car. I think two hours through border control under those circumstances was fairly reasonable. Had a great weekend once I got there: lovely weather, fantastic spa day, great food, too many cocktails...


Harrison, British Columbia.

We have a new addition to the ‘725’ menagerie: L'il Jack (the 10 pound dog), sitting on sofa with Emma, Miss Goody Four Paws.












Finally, I had a lovely birthday. Joanna and Justine took me out for dinner and bought me a great stash of pressies. Thanks to all of you for my cards and gifts. My dresser was bursting with monkey cards!

I have a terrible confession…

Rock – as you know – always my thing. There’s barely anything else in my music collection. From Bowie I progressed to Led Zep, loved Ozzy, went to see Rush at 16 (Tom, Kathryn…2112!!!!!), discovered the eternal joys of Metallica: even my mellow stuff is Nirvana, Foo Fighters. At a club obviously I’ll shake my booty to, well, pretty much anything after a few beers as witnessed at Brian’s wedding; Sally and I could hardly walk the next morning. Most definitely I am straight on that dance floor to a bit of Aretha or Freda Payne (Band of Gold – one of my top ten songs of all time). Lucy and I painted Peru a definite shade of red in 2006 with our non-stop Abba/disco inferno showing those bright young things how the old girls do it. San Francisco Holly and I have discovered the joys of the BeeGees breakfast on occasions when I’ve slept over; and I do like cleaning to Take That. Oh the joys of the boys!

Here’s the confession…I seem to have developed a nostalgic love of Hall and Oates. It’s one thing to strut your stuff to, “…Whoo, ooh, here she comes, watch out boy she’ll chew you up…”, but “…When I feel cold you warm me, When I feel I can’t go on you come and hold me (Daryl hits that high note and I feel the tears welling in my eyes)…It’s you... and me… forever...”. It started as a joke between Justine and I when they seemed to be playing, “…I said your kiss, your kiss, is on my list…” every time we were in Safeway. But last week I found myself saying to her, “But Justine, they invented a fusion of rock and roll and rhythm and blues, a style which they dubbed ‘rock and soul’. They are brilliant." She simply said, “Milly they are not,” and she looked at me with such disappointment I realized I had gone too far; that my 80’s nostalgia had taken control of my senses. I put on some Sepultura and Rage against the Machine. I’m feeling much better now. Whoo,ooh (damn). That’s weight off my mind.

We have mid-terms next week and the week after. I’ve got a horrible physiology exam on my birthday. My birthday! I don’t even usually go to work, let alone sit an exam. I usually spend the whole day with Sally and a champagne picnic watching the Rome Masters. I’m feeling just a little grumpy. However, once exams are over I’m straight on a plane for a long weekend in Vancouver; my first time to Canada, and I’m looking forward to it very much.

This week's pictures: The Marina,Emma, with ball on the beach and a dogmate,shopfront:the Castro, the coast road.