I like flying, and also enjoy the luxury of being forced to sit down and do nothing for ten guilt-free hours, as well as the regular intake of snacks, so the time passed pleasantly. I got a little writing done, read an entire novel (kyellgold's Out Of Position, at last), and watched Scooby-Doo: Wrestlemania Mystery (the sight of Scooby in a wrestling mask lying on a prone, topless Shaggy is not one I will easily forget).
Meanwhile Iceland passed beneath the port wing, and Howard and I craned our necks to goggle at it while wondering why everyone else on board was so blasé.
Once landed and spat out of border control (things I was afraid I might get turned back for: wearing Doc Martens with Union Jack toecaps; staying at address in Haight-Ashbury; general undesirability) we followed my schoolfriend Kate's instructions and hopped on the BART to the Civic Center. Here Kate met us (I forgot to warn Howard she has pink hair) and took us the rest of the way by bus. The San Francisco afternoon was warm and golden, and we were in that happy first-day-of-the-holiday state where everything is new and exciting: look! a real American fire hydrant!
The USA doesn't seem to have Twelfth Night, so there were coloured lights and wreaths in many of the windows down the charming street where Kate is living with her husband Tom and two tabby brothers called Horace and Monty. After we'd met everyone, we managed to stay up until 9PM before calling it a night.