San Francisco - A bit like Whitby

If you enter the phrase "June is the sunniest month in England" into the Google English/Spanish translator, it comes up with the questions "Did you mean 'June is the rainiest month in England'?". Apart from being absolutely hilarious from a coding point-of-view (us IT professionals are known for our waggish sense of humour), it is also patently untrue. San Francisco must be the wettest, coldest, most blustery place on any coast. Including, yes, Whitby, as they do have the smoked kippers to mitigate any moistness.

Although winter jackets would have been best, we were the typical Brits abroad in that we each had several cardies, a cagoule and a rain-mate. at one point, I realised my hood had created handy guttering around my forehead, when, leaning forward to speak to the small person in front of me, I completely deluged her already sodden face.

Apart from the weather ("colder than Stoke!"), it was great fun. Easily the best US city we've been to so far. We stayed in a really nice flat in Castro, which is where all the more handsome chaps with dogs hang out. There was one slightly embarrassing moment when I called T over to a shop-window and said "Awww, look at all the pretty Easter eggs", and she said "Oh yes, Mummy. they must be for St Valentine's Day AND Easter, because they have Love written on them"....bridgjo pulled us both back from the window by our collars muttering "I'll talk to you later".

We went across to Alcatraz. Interesting and damp. I hadn't known that so many children used to live on the island, the kids of the guards, who would take the ferry across to school each day.

A highlight for the small person was the Pirate Shop . It's a front for a community writing group. If a child goes in and offers a drawing or poem, they can barter with the staff for treasure.

My favourite place was the Winchester House. It was unnerving how one room would be colder than the rest, and you could well imagine spirits being abroad, or at least walking around the rooms.

Muir Woods were pretty impressive - especially as we also did a 10 mile hike. T managed to go all the way round with a constant supply of Pringles, crisps and Fruit Pastilles. Luckily, as most people were just doing wobbly-bottomed coach-tours, it meant everyone else stayed on the board-walk, and we had the paths to ourselves.

Eau, deer

The winter has seemed to have passed us by this year. Apart from one or two minus 20C days, it has been quite acceptable. Last year we had snow till way passed April. This year I may even be able to succumb to my faux middle-class roots and go and plant tomatoes (which generally seems to be just a posh way of feeding the local deer population).

I was not impressed by the local animal husbandry. The neighbour came home just before Christmas at about 1am and found a pile of four deer at the bottom of the road. When he called the police to complain, he was told it was actually the police who'd done it, and it was part of the culling program. As we only have 5 deer (well, one, obvs) which wander about, rather than a swathe of rampaging wildebeest across the savannah, I thought that this was a bit odd, until I saw the price of venison in the supermarket.

I was there  in the local Wholefoods last week. Wholefoods is a bit like M&S....overpriced organic produce selling to gullible mums, who otherwise just frisby Vitamin C in the form of jaffa cakes to their kids. At the check-out, I'd unloaded my basket onto the conveyor-belt behind this well-turned out lady in front of me (ie she had a nice perm, and you couldn't see her gun), and put down The Barrier of Death.

I suddenly realised that I needed to pop back to the veg department and grab some frisee (or something else I would probably not recognise by sight). When I came back, she was just paying up....and I saw she'd actually helped herself to the two bottles of Pelligrino and some parmesan from my section. She looked at me. I looked at her. We did the unspoken "I know you know I know etc", and she looked so horrified I just could not bring myself to say anything.

Serves me right when tap-water and cheddar would do just as well, but I just knew she would carry that guilt with her all day.