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Day off in San Francisco. September 24th.

25th September 2017

San Francisco. That’s where we are.

Last time I was here it was on a road trip with Beloveds. The sun shines and I wish they were here with me to share this air.

Our hotel is very fine. We check in around 5pm and straight away I head out. Ostensibly to find a cinema.
The town is as fascinating as I remember it.

Directed as I was to Westfields, and having spent some considerable time negotiating curly escalators, (that’s a first) and numerous floors, I discover there are no films showing for a couple of hours. Forget it. I go into a rather smart looking Chinese restaurant next door and order hog or something in lettuce leaves, and vegetable spring rolls. Hogs nice enough. I’m tired of sweet everything though. Spring rolls appear as beef something. No, that’s not what I ordered. Wait a bit longer and Tofu arrives.
I ask them to box the rolls when they finally appear, appetite gone, and leave.

On a corner. A gaggle of happy looking Chinese Christians are declaring the imminent arrival of Christ. He’s not going to be best pleased with the state of affairs. On another, a woman is singing with a small band. ‘Ain’t no Sunshine’. There’s plenty, but I get her drift. Directly in front of her, a skinny woman with no teeth and a dog on a rope is emoting. The rest of the gathered crowd stand back. I want to take a picture but I know it would be for mock value and think better of it. The skinny woman is enraptured. Caned. Leave her be.

I wonder at the crowd gathered at the bottom of Powell St. I remember it was the same last time we were here, and like last time, I thought bollocks to that. Hanging off a slow tram is nothing to dally for. I walk to the top of Nob Hill. Close to the top a man tells me there are only 52 more steps. He was right. He was counting and that was just coming down. I arrive at the summit with a discernible pulse, and before the joy riders.

Back down and I am in my room. Tim has asked them to deliver a humidifier to it and they have. I am pleased.
I have only spoken when ordering food and have not tested myself. This will be a positive aid. I fill it as directed and put it on. It deposits its water load onto the carpet. I examine it. Always change the filter when it is yellow or discoloured, it reads. The filter is a fine shade of dirty protest. Another chocolate teapot.

Spring rolls in bed and Catfish on the telly. Some internet dwellers are real lying, shitting arseholes. Don’t I know it.

I sleep early.

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