My first trip to Mexico took place at the impressionable age of five. My mother, enticed by the offer of free babysitting at Club Med Ixtapa, threw some bathing suits in a suitcase, loaded me and my brother onto a plane and whisked us off to the tropics.
Every year on my birthday my aunt and uncle send me a card. This year they sent one with a black and white photograph of rolling hills dotted with giant oak trees. Without having to read the description, I knew that the picture was of California. It made me homesick.
Being back in California this week made me want to see some of that beautiful land outside of San Francisco. Yesterday my boyfriend and I drove across the Golden Gate Bridge and headed up to wine country to take in the scenery and taste some of our state’s famous Pinot Noirs.
This week’s adventure took me home to California, and I couldn’t have picked a better time to visit. The weather was hitting record highs in San Francisco just as the London heat wave succumbed to the London rain. As if that weren’t reason enough to be excited, there were two special events in the city over the weekend: Oyster Fest and Bay to Breakers. The latter is my boyfriend’s favorite holiday (“it’s like Christmas and New Year’s combined,” he says), so I knew I was in for a good time.
I love to laugh. There’s nothing more satisfying than sitting around with friends laughing until my stomach hurts, my eyes tear up, and I can barely breathe. There has been much to laugh about lately, from things that are uncannily bizarre to things that are culturally humorous to things that are just plain hilarious.
First in the uncannily bizarre category is an incident that happened to me earlier this week. I went out to the high street to pick up a scone from my favorite Hampstead bakery, Gail’s. As I walked, I passed by a dog tied to a solid wood bench outside Starbucks. I was tempted to pet the dog, but the loose muzzle around its nose was a bit of a deterrent.