Breaking Waves - The Birthday

There are worst ways to begin the day than with a dip in the cool waters of the Pacific to counteract the heat of a California day which at 06:40 was already setting the sand in the distance shimmering with heat.  Sitting down on the edge of the beach where the surf gently broke and lapped around me and, in the absence of anyone else to talk to, I had a chat instead with the large colony of seagulls which congregated each morning on the short stretch of sand between our balcony and the water's edge.  It was, I explained, both a happy day and a sad day. It was a day which was in my mind a sort of watershed between what had been and what was yet to come.  Having submitted my PhD thesis a little over a week ago and with just the viva to come, I was here for a month, I told them, to contemplate the next major steps in my life. There were decisions to be made about work, and about love, and about how to raise sufficient funds for my Everest record attempt. The seagulls moved closer and settled in.  They appeared surprisingly interested.  But before decisions were made, actions executed and plans put into action, there was a very special lunch to attend.  Having finished my chat with the gulls, I walked back across the sand to the hotel but before I got there I turned and stood for a few moments looking out to sea, and couldn't quite decide how I felt about being fifty.

Janet and I had got to know parts of LA quite well. Mostly because we kept going round in circles. This was largely down to a GPS system which at one point came very close to being jettisoned. Forty minutes late for our rendeavous with Prof Bill I decided to ignore the sat nav which had taken us on some obscure tour of the LA freeways and was now directing us back to our hotel and rely instead on good old-fashioned natural sense of direction.  We arrived at last, apologetic, hot, and feeling a little bit crumpled. Bill, as ever, took everything in his stride.   Prof Bill is one of the founders of Anderson School of Management at UCLA and teaches entrepreneurial finance both at UCLA and at business schools and universities all over the world.  I had applied and was lucky enough to be selected as his teaching assistant two years running when he came to lecture at Warwick Business School on the MBA programme.  Having told me to look him up if ever I was in LA I did just that.  "Fabulous", his email reply had said, "we'll have a tour of UCLA  and then I'll take you to lunch at the Bel Air Country Club". I, in turn, said I thought that sounded just fine. And now I stood on his doorstep, stressed and hot and felt it was not quite the impression I had sought to make.  He just winked and gave me a hug.

UCLA is just a short drive from Bill's home which is in an area where, due to it's green and leafy avenues, nice homes and proximity to the university campus, many of the senior staff reside.  As we drove through the campus toward the business school he told us many interesting facts about the place and gave us a sense of it's history and stature.  The UCLA campus is beautifully maintained, accommodates modern and historic buildings which fit happily side by side and is generously dotted with mature trees and well tendered plantings. The business school is full of light, original art and plenty of places for students to congregate and socialise. Bill's portrait, along with those of the other benefactors, smiles benignly down at the students in the Entrepreneurs Hall. But the easy smile hides a tough and uncompromising and truly remarkable teacher. Never have I seen so many students raise their game in such a short length of time than when they take a Prof Bill course. Seeing him in action completely changed my approach to teaching.

Back in the car after our business school tour and on my part a little less crumpled and a little less stressed we made our way up the narrow winding roads past what I think it would be safe to call 'very desirable homes' and turned into the immaculately maintained grounds of the Bel Air Country Club (http://www.bel-aircc.org/).  Not a blade of grass out of place, not a flower beyond its prime. The greens were vivid and lush. Gardeners gardened and humming birds hummed.  As the valet parked the car we stepped into the rarified atmosphere and plush surroundings. "Come", said Bill, "let me show you the view".  Walking down the steps into the members lounge we stood for a moment and took in the panorama before us. Out, beyond the floor to ceiling plate glass which made up the whole of the far wall, the golfing greens stretched out and dropped away before us. In the mid-distance we could see the towers of the UCLA campus  and beyond that the city buildings of downtown LA.  You can see, I understand, for thirty-five miles.  It's some view.  Bel Air Country club is not really a country club but is actually a golf club and, as you might expect from the name, is rather an exclusive one at that.  As we head down to the restaurant for lunch we pass a 'who's who' of golfing memorabilia.  By this I don't mean a hat which has adorned a famous head or a golf club swung on a famous course.  No, the BACC has a series of original trophies donated by some of the biggest names in golf. There is an original Ryder Cup, an original Davis Cup, and many more too numerous to mention.  I understand it has the best trophy cabinet in the world. I nodded attentively as I was shown one remarkable golfing artefact after another. Who polishes them, I wondered, there's not a speck of dust in sight.

When we left a couple of hours later having been introduced to one of the programme directors at Anderson who was joining us for lunch ("my boss" Bill said with a wink, "she also used to be one of my students") we had talked about education, about how professional ethics had changed in the last fifty years and how alumni were becoming more and more important as sources of funding.  But most importantly we talked about what opportunities there might to work together again.  We'll be continuing that conversation in London next month.

Later, at Nobu, after drinking some fizz to celebrate my birthday, we learned that Janet does not like Sushi.......at all.

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[beloved]

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