Tuesday: Back in Marin, just north of the Golden Gate Bridge

Am feeling rather distraught at having to leave my suite at the Ritz Carlton in San Francisco. However wonderful a city, there’s something very beguiling about holing up in a fabulous hotel and just letting the cocooning sensation wash over everything. I’m afraid I was terribly self-indulgent during my stay: I did lots of writing & reading in bed, nestled in fluffy pillows, with a Ritz verbena candle burning and a plate of cookies on hand to aid the mental processes.

I had an added bonus when my beloved GG rang yesterday morning to announce his unexpected but imminent arrival in the city from New York for meetings today. The Ritz is his husband’s favourite SF hotel so, in Yo-Yo's honour, he hiked up to Nob Hill from his work-mandated Marriot (ha!) and we sat until 1am in the Ritz’s rather glamorous Lobby Bar sipping 10yr Glenmorangie (me), perfect Manhattans (GG) and being extremely evil.

I probably wouldn’t have felt quite so ropey today if I hadn’t been awaiting his arrival in the Club Lounge working my way through half a bottle of very acceptable Roederer Estate Anderson Valley Brut NV. There seemed only one sensible way to deal with my case of hotel & hangover induced blues: food.

I hopped it to an unidentifiable Vietnamese in SoMa and ordered a plate of fried tofu, cabbage & noodles which I drenched in Srichaha chili sauce:


Feeling fully restored by tea & noodles, I took myself off to the Ferry Building, currently the epicentre of San Francisco's local food movement, to graze on cheese, olive oil & sweet things. (Post tk). Then it was off to SF's MoMA for a squint at the Clyfford Still room and a chuckle at the emperor's new clothes (from the newer section) in the permanent collection.

I'm now back in Marin for the night, staying here in Fort Barry out in the wilds of the Headlands, where the only neighbours are coyotes, racoons and migrating wild turkeys which have already bird strike-ed on my car. (That'll teach me to park under their tree.)


It’s only a few miles, & twenty minutes from San Francisco itself, yet surrounded by bright green rolling hills, upon which flighty deer graze, it’s hard to compute that we could be so close to an enormous city.