Bittersweet Sunday

Sunday and it’s a Grand Prix day – this time the French speed circuit at Magny Cours.

I was a bit worried because Formula One isn’t too popular in this country. Nascar rules the racing roost and I was wondering where I could watch the race. As it turns out I needn’t have worried. A quick web search found the San Francisco Formula One club, who gather each race morning at 10am in a local bar to watch the spectacle over brunch.

They’re a good crew and are passionate about the racing. I met a wine maker who’d driven over from Oakland for the race, and a Brit who’d been over here so long he sounded Australian. Even got an invitation to a party next weekend from one of the club DJ, plus there was a fun raffle at the end for some good prizes.

The bar brunch wasn’t up to much – basic eggs, bacon, home fries and toast but now I know the form I’ll take some Marmite along to spice up the meal. Still, the barman mixed an excellent Bloody Mary, even if he was a bit heavy on the olive juice.

But it was a bittersweet morning. Back in the UK I’d grab a couple of bottles of wine and head over to R&B’s for a lunchtime race, then W-A-L-K the dogs (you can’t the word otherwise they go nuts until it’s time to go) and then an excellent dinner. Home seemed a long way away as I wandered down 7^th avoiding a homeless lady performing her morning ablutions.

Still and all it wasn’t a bad morning. The race was pretty good – Hamilton screwed up again and it was clear it was going to be a Ferrari one two, until the end when Raikkonen’s exhaust dropped out and he sacrificed the lead but managed a skilful drive to second. Trulli deserved his third; it took real guts to risk a crash to defend his spot on the second to last lap.

Considering the early start (an alarm going off at 8.30am on a Sunday is seldom a happy occurrence) and the two drinks I went home to the hotel, had an hour’s nap and decided to cheer myself up the best way I know how – buying a few books. So it was over to my favourite San Francisco bookshop: City Lights.

It’s a great little place, steeped in history, firmly independent and packing a selection that the majors wouldn’t touch. Plus I found some books I’ve been meaning to get for years; Howard Zinn’s autobiography ‘You can’t be neutral on a moving train’, the third book in the Chalmer’s Johnson trilogy and ‘Canticle for Leibowitz’, a masterpiece of post-apocalyptic science fiction from the early 1960s.

Another reason to love the bookshop is its proximity to the San Francisco Brewing Company, so I took my purchases down there to peruse over a pint of Emperor Norton in the late evening sun. Then, feeling much more cheerful I headed home, with a brief stop for spicy noodle soup and spring rolls in Chinatown before having an early night – must be fresh for Monday.