What a long day! It felt like a day and a half, what with us having to wind our watches back 8 hours when we landed at San Francisco International Airport and effectively re-live the hours between five pm and midnight, albeit not strapped into a British Airways seat.
The trip from Edinburgh to London was fairly uneventful: we got on a plane; it took off; an hour later it landed in another UK capital city; we got off. London Heathrow upset me slightly. Or rather, Harrods at Terminal 4 upset me. Not Harrods as such, the “CHILDRENS” signs hanging above racks of clothing, small enough to be worn by infants, upset me. CHILDRENS?! Where is the apostrophe? Actually, I’m now not entirely confident that the name of the store isn’t “Harrod’s” and that it too hasn’t been mistyped.
There is little to report about the flight to San Francisco. It lasted over ten hours, and I watched the first episode of Little Britain (“Yeah! I know!”) twice on my personal in-flight entertainment screen and bugged Jane with Lou & Andy-style quotes: “I wanna go to Florida!”
The breaking of the Fellowship took place at a BART station within the airport as my cousin Charlotte and I waved goodbye to Jane and Dorothy, as they set off in search of their (an) hotel in Palo Alto; I received a text message a couple of hours later to say that they were happily booked in (and exhausted). Meanwhile in the airport, Char and I had to wait ninety minutes for the next bus to take us north to Santa Rosa, where Char had parked her car to drive us the remaining 12 miles north to Healdsburg. Where I am now.