BEHIND THE SCENES

July 29, Thursday morning, 7.30am.

On the terrace of our B&B in Noe Valley and a chilly fog sits over us

Just checking that last posting. Pretty dire stuff. But I shall do better, I promise.

I have excuses though. Let me lift the lid, take you behind the scenes, walk you through the engine room and explain what all those clanking pistons and copper pipes are about. (Come on, come on, Blogperson! Get on with it!).

When David Livingstone, Mary Kingsley, Vasco de Gama or Amerigo Vespucci interrupted their travels to put down their thoughts for the folks back home they would reach for a reed, a goose quill or whatever. And if the quill wasn’t up to it they’d strangle another goose or cut off a piece of charcoal, and they’d write: “Land on the port bow. Must be America”. And go back to breakfast or plot another course.

With me it’s different. I write from a MacBook that has seen better years. And I’m hardly beyond level 2 in the digital age. I know nothing about Wavepad or the versatility of Audacity or the concept of Cloud. I just open the lid, clear the breadcrumbs away and start typing. And then the emails won’t send and I spend hours gazing at a spinning disc until a window pops up with an incomprehensible question. Or the blog totally disappears.

Since we arrived at SF I’ve been up most mornings at 5.30am, not being able to sleep, bash away for a bit and, after ten minutes, start fuming impotently with Luddite rage. At about 7.30 there emerges the bleary figure of Austin, our landlord or “host”, a corporate lawyer, though neither term is quit right. Anyway he is fast becoming a friend and ever-tolerant technical adviser. And he helps to put me right. But then so does R, who last night installed Snow Leopard on my Mac.

Here goes, I thought. Another learning curve that will be too steep for me. But no, it seems to have done the trick and he shows me the best way to send group emails and he sorts out my blog too. He is my saviour and so is Danielle for bringing us back to life last night with her delicious marrow soup.

Our brown shopping bag from the local worker-owned cooperative organic grocery store sits in front of me. It proclaims proudly that is it closed on LESBIAN, GAY, BISEXUAL, TRANGENDER AND QUEER PRIDE DAY. It also happens to be H’s birthday, I shamefully realise. I get an email from her asking if I haven’t forgotten something and she points out that in America you can divorce your parents for less. OK, Hils, go ahead and we’ll sue you for loss of future familial anniversary emoluments or something!

Haven’t I forgotten something? Yes, of course. What have we been actually doing? Where have we been? Where’s the travel bit, I promised? (And there’s been lot of it). Again, I apologise. That will have to wait for my next blog.
All in good time. Just hang in there!