Ha-hum!

So ive been visiting family and friends in London now for nearly 3 weeks As my comfort here increases I also sense my growing excitement at the prospect of returning home to Jerusalem, now a week and a half away.

Socially things have been uneven. By which I mean there are certain people from among my English-based friends that I have already seen 3 times during my visit, whilst there are others I only saw for the first, and likely only time, last night. There are still more I'm meeting up with for the 1st time tonight. So my hectic schedule of cricket watching eating and socialising and occasionally sometimes even a combination of all 3- wow!- has been, unsurprisingly, lovely- holiday well spent.

The focus then of todays post is the evening I spent last night with a selection of old school friends brought together in honour of his highness's visit by the one school friend of mine that I'm still actively in touch with in this crowd.

In the hour or two leading up to the get-together I was feeling uneasy, even a little nervous. There were people there I hadnt seen in maybe as much as 10-11 years. Honestly thats not the knub of the issue. The problem is the same old one with one subtle difference, its my having given into the 'dark-side'. 'the beardy-weirdies', 'The G-d Squad' - that, since i knew and was last close with these people I was not observant and now I am.

Of course, all but one of my british-based friendship circle are shomer mitzvot and knew me before I was myself traditionally observant. So on the surface it seems like the same problem irrespective of which friendship group I am socialising in, being school friends or otherwise....

As it turns out the difficulty, or my perception there of, is in fact very different.

Most of my closest friends are people I knew from youth movement days with whom I shared a year in Israel after finishing school. Not only are we still close but that experience encourages you and indeed promotes itself as a 'safe space' for considered and thoughtful exploration of ones Jewish and Zionist identity. Me being me I militated towards the ones of our group who were a touch more serious and took on to greater or lessor degrees some thoughtful introspection and generally questioning and desire for growth. I dont know whether all of my youth movement friends would call themselves serious Jews, but thay are certainly thoughtful and connected Jews, often strongly connected. That being the case, whilst we differ on our approaches and amount of practice and known of them are halachically observant and this can cause a degree of difficulty/ tension they do, howerver, understand the process that led me to where I am Jewishly as it was and is one that they engaged on, although of course it leads everyone to different places.

So my Youth movement friends more-a-less 'get it' or get me 'jewishly' we are products of the same world and i still feel comfortable around them and an ease in relating to them.

If my Youth movement buddies are Jewish positive, my school friends range from Jewish negative to luke-warm at best. This phenomenon was played out to some degree by the facts on the ground. Other than me, of the people present last night, one was married to a guy who converted to marry her, the girlfriends of two more are in the process of converting and the third has no interest in going out with Jews at all.

Yes, yes I know it sayas aomething important that my friends want their partners to have a conversion and ultimately be Jewish but the majority of these friends did not prioritise dating jewishly, they didnt see the value in it, which is the saddest part.

This of course is a shocking inditement of our school, the nominally Orthodox and long-since defunct boarding school Carmel College. Shabbat, as a primaryexample of Jewish life at Carmel was a repressive and largely unenjoyable experience. I left there after 5 years never having opened a Gemara, with minimal Jewish knowledge and infact it is true to say that a big part of the negative factors that pushed me towards a career in Jewish education, so frustrated at the paucity of my own education.

Unlike my school friends at the pub, I pursued other Jewish circles and experiences and found positive ones through my youth movement career. For them, their Carmel friends are there 'Jewish circle'. With their experience of Carmel being their predominant Jewish experience outside of homelife, it occurs to me that it is now surprise that they have little interest in being actively engaged Jews who attach dominant value to their Jewish identities- why would they having their school experience of institutionalised Judaism to look back on for inspiration!

Dont get me wrong I enjoyed my school days and they were certainly formative, but as a Jewish institution, Carmel College RIP! You will be missed?!

Andy Flintoff, Andy Murray and Andy Ram...

well not really Andy Ram, Dudi Sela would have been more appropriate, but a little bit of illiteration never failed to grab the attention somewhat better than 'Zionist issues and dual identity' or some other appropriate but rather dull title I could have gone for.

This post springs from the fact that I spent a glorious morning yesterday watching Andrew Flintoff bowl England to a memorable, momentous and historic victory against Australia in the 2nd Test Match at Lord's- we're talking cricket, just in case you were wondering.

When it comes to things like tea, cricket, football, marmite and the like I can often be heard reminding all assundry that you 'can take the Brit out of Brtiain but not Britain out of the Brit. Cultural I am fine with just how British I am and I have also made my peace with condemning myself to a life of never being either entirely British or Israeli.

So when England play cricket I have no problem supporting them without a sniff of a quarm, similarly when Israel plays football I have no problem giving the team my support, but what about when those two loyalties come into sporting conflict?

I used to think my answer to this apparent conundrum was clear and consistent...Israel, always Israel.

Despite the fact that even despite my enthusiasm I cant imagine feeling conflicted about supporting Israel in a largelythereotically cricketing match-up and I already know from experience that I support Israel against England in football I seemed to have stumbled upon a grey area and I'm confused at the inconsistency and the conflict this presdents me with.

For years, growing-up in the British Zionist Youth movement world 'Who would you support if Israel played England at football? was a favourite and perenial question which articulates the tension between being Jewish and British in a powerful and compellimg way for the large majority of the kind of Jews i know and grew up with.

As I say, it now having happened I know, not only in theory but also in practice that I support Israel without a second thought.

All this being the case I was rather surprised during Wimbledon. I had been excited at the prospect and truly expect Andy Murray to reach the final atleast. As Wimbledon rolls around Brits in their droves, of which I am one, take up there annual two-week obsession with tennis and the pilling of pressure upon the shoulders of the brightest British male hope as we search in vain for the next British man to win Wimbledon. Following Murray's semi-final exit at the hands of the inspired Andy Roddick, Fred Perry remains the last, taking the title in his long-white trousers in 1936.

With the scene set and Murray progressing serenely through the draw along came Dudi Sela to throw me into what turned out to be, in the end, only theoretical confusion.

Of course I was backing the Israeli No.1 in his hot streak, hoping he woukld do well, but when confronted with the possibility of a Murray vs Sela situation, I couldn't help but want Murray to win.

Clearly me being me, I felt a pang of conflictedness at this realisation.

I've tried justyfying it, maybe it has to dowith it being an individual sport, maybe this maybe that, but of course the truth of the matter is that I was already emotional invested inthe success of andy Murray and he actually, unlike, poor old Dudi had a realistic chance of winning the championship outright.

This is the argument you hear often from British Jews justifying their support of England over Israel in football. It always felt like a cop-out answer, one that I was uncomfortable with. Now that it seems I share it in a tennising context is, as you'll understand, an unsettling self -relalisation.

No, cozy one-sentence resolution here, sorry, when I reach one {I'll let you know...

No, surely not....

Wow, so as promised...thats right as promised here I am again less than 24 hours since my last post. Well bugger me backwards with a blunt market vegetable!

Now yesterday I left myself topics to return to, so whilst its probably not entirely a surprise that I am keeping good on my promise, butt hat said Ive had a couple of things ive been wondering about whether they might feature in today's action packed post...#

Reflecting on what I wrote yesterday, I've been thinking about ways to up my hits and contributions, which whilst in themselves would probably serve to increase visitors to m'blog, I was considering some sort of PR move. Y'see there is a website outthere called jewishblogging.com which is some sort of one-stop-shop for those who blog Jewishly and those looking for such materias.

This raised a question to me, just how Jewish does your blog need to be to be included into the apparently broad church that is jewishblogging.com? And of course just how Jewy is my blog and would joining my site restrict the things I could witter on in-coherently about here? The first part of this question was brought into particularly sharp focus by the fact that yesterdays post was essentially free of Jew content other than the fact that I am a Jew and that the story that I related had to do with me, a Jew- in caser you were still confused. I mean short of concockting some sensationalist and frankly spurious anti-semitic angle to add to the anal ridiculousness to the events that befell me in central park, I cant think that yesterdays post has much to offer the world of Jewish blogging , nor really would I want it to, either.

In not-so-unrelated-as-it-seems-news I've also found myself wondering about the British public reaction to the recent spate of British military casualties in Afghanistan. It seems that some sort of tipping point has been reached, where minds will again have to be focused on the aims of the campaign and questions re-examined as to how best this serves the British national interest. According to an article on BBC news late last night in proportional terms the amount of British casualities can be acquated to the numbers of American causalties suffered at the height of the Vietnam War. This does put things in a different perspective but I have to admit that I was struck by the strength of emotion on display amongst the mourners that came to pay their respects to the courtage as it passed. The fact that they came to line the route at all is in itself exceptional in recent history and thus news-worthy.

I dont mean to be disingenuious but, having witnessed these scenes as reported on the news I was struck particularly by this question: What makes the sacrifices of these young men any more honourable than those of the 200 or so of there fallen commrades who have fallen to date in the campaign in Afghanistan, after all there deaths in the main were not accompanied by a similar response? Of course the answer, sad to say, is nothing. Force of numbers have understandably caused this outpourring and and Britain's mission in Afghanistan to take centre stage in the news agenda.

But lets not make these latest fallen heroes any more or less worthy of our respect and gratitude than those that have laid town their lives before them.

My point in writing this is not simply because its been on my mnind but also because it is an example of another thing i wanted to commit to paper that is not so Jewisjh in content and thus might not make me so consistently ideal for those fine chaps and chapesses at jewishblogging.com.

Of course as I begin the process of reflecting on why I am concerned about this aspect of the reporting of the war in Afghanistan, my sense is that my concern for the individual honour of each soldier might be rooted in the very Israeli approach to commemoration to which I have become condition and which I find profound. It is ofcourse on the one hand national collective and on the other deeply individual. Television on Yom Ha-Zickaron is almost exclusive populated by programmes telling the personal stories of soldier after soldier and victim after victim who have died either in service of Israel's military or at the hands of terrorists.

So, after all that, there really is no escaping the Jewish angle after all...

Blimey, in so many ways

So as I say, quite simply...Blimey! Has it really been nearly four months since I last wrote here. Has it really been 2 years since I was last in London. Blimey, did I used to live here and blimey am I really disabled..no, I mean like, really!

Lets deal with each of these exclaimations in turn then shall we...blogging, so you still do that then...? Yes, in a word. Well, truth be told I think of my dear blog most days in the 4 months or so since I last made a cyber-entry. Its not that I dont want to blog, in fact I often think to myself what a witty little reflection that might make on the ol' blog. But then when you make one, it needs to be quickly followed promptly by another and theb another. Servicing, then, is the key to successful blogging and frankly, im too much of a faff-meister to get round at frequent interval to publishing my pointless witterings. NB I was originally going to write twittering, but I was caught wondering whether I should do that as it has acquirred a new mwaning...Oh my G-d that last comment makes me such an old, culturally inept, bastard!

I had promised myself that I would blog everyday whilst I was staying in London at my parents house and yet, almost inevitable almost a week in, this constitutes my 1st post.

So, just to muddy the waters, lets deal with these exclaimations out of order. So I left Israel 3 weeks or so ago for holiday time back in new york, a time focused around reconnecting with nyc-based buddies and the thus far unrivaled CRO. Suffice to say that touristy-type activity was kept to a minimum in favour of good socializng matched by a high standard of eating. The one touristy-high spot was going to watch the 'Shakespeare in the Park' production of 'Twelfth Night'. Not unused to the American penchant for staggering letter-of-the-law- arse-covering anality the following incident shouldnt have come as too much of a surprise and honestly it didnt but its still a ridiculous story that I've been dining out on ever since. Settle back and I shall begin...

In an unusual moment of pre-planning I called 'Shakespeare in the Park' a few days ahead of my planned visit to clarify there 'Disabled policy'. I was told by the woman on the other end of the phone that I could stroll up to the box office around lunch time to pick up a ticket, hence by-passing the hours of queueuing endured by those silly abled-bodied folks in their quest for their free ticket. There was one thing though, the woman cautioned me, you will have to come with proof of disability.

PROOF OF DISABILITY!!??? Call me old fashioned but I tend to find that my sticks accompanied bt my quitessential waddle were sufficient. Whilst, being Israeli, I excel in ID of various types, I tried to explain that I was a tourist and didnt have any 'official' proof of my condition. I mesn the mid boggled at what they might consider proof enough: Should we perhaps count my scars I wondered? Perhaps, I should take off my splints and trousers for all of Central Park to gaup at? Maybe dribbling into a small cup might suffice?

Unpurturbed I turned up to the box-office the following Wednesday to see what would happen. Predictably, the fresh-faced young girl at the box-office deffered responsibility, telling me that without appropriate ID I would have to wait to be seen by the mananger as only she could make such a decision.

The manager was to be found managing...the queue. She told meto sit and wait the 30 minutes or so untill she would bew free to deal with me.

I sat indignantly on the bench in front of the box office checking my array of official Israeli and British documentation for any little wheelchair icon or some such...none, of course, was to be found.

Resisting the temptation to be petulent I retained my composure as the manager finally came to sit next to me. I explained my predicament as calm I could. To her credit she enquired simply 'do you have problems with stairs?' 'Yes', I answered firmly and honestly. 'Would you like one or two tickets?', she asked. 'Two, please', I said.

With that the situation was resolved.

Except that when, by the time that later on that evening my friend and I entered the audiotorium for the performance, tickets in hand, I had forgotten the manager's special instructions as to where I should enter. So instead of taking the flat way, intended fot wheel chairs I went up and then down stairs to find our seats, with the other disabled people in the very front row. Fortunately, despite all of the theatre workers being present managing the crowd as we all took our seats, I didnt see the manager. If I had she might well have asked the awkward question 'I thought you said stairs were difficult for you?'.

And, of course, they are. Difficult but not inurmountable, but who knows, given my previous experience earlier in the day, whether common sense would have prevailed.

The show, in case you were wondering was great, very funny!

Join us tomorrow for the remaining 2 exclaimations...I promise!