Pride

Sunday is the day when gay folk come out to play. A city of 500,000 swells to three million as people come out set gay progress back 50 years.

A & E took me down to watch the parade and what a sight it was. We got there a little late so only saw the second half but that still took an hour and a bit. My feet were hurting by the end so goodness knows what the huge drag queens in high heels must have been feeling like after marching from Embarcadero to Market.

After hearing some stories about the hedonism that is apparently rife at such events the whole thing seemed rather tame. The parade floats were very well done and there was a moderate amount of nudity (mainly female) but it was all very tasteful. Memorable slogans included:

Rodeo is bucking gay, if it’s done right (California Rodeo Riders Club)

Get the hard facts on sex education before you fill in the holes (SF sexual health)

Libertarians – pro choice on everything (Libertarian party)

We’re here, we’re queer, we’re Buddha (SF Zen Centre)

Hikers do it camp (Sierra Club)

Google had a very large group marching, while curiously Northrop Grumman had a few people marching. They received a warm round of applause like everyone else, despite being a weapons company. There were many churches with marchers, even a Catholic one, which was a pleasant surprise.

We all went home and stocked up on water and suncream and then I headed down to the Dog. Fell in with a group and we talked football and Formula One before heading across the road to fill up on sausage and sauerkraut. All in all a very good day.

Moving in

So it seems the previous occupant of my room to be is being a complete arsehole about her contract and I can’t move into the room until Tuesday.

Given the fact that she’s left the entire room in a state my mother would call slovenly (tampons on the floor, litter everywhere and a box of dead crickets to feed her pet lizard in the cupboard) and she’s not in it, it seems I’m stuck with the couch in the spare room for the moment.

A & E are being very good about it but it’s clear they are embarrassed by the situation.

But it is good to get out of the hotel. I’ve spent too many nights sleeping in impersonal hotel rooms, with a maid going through your stuff every day. I value my privacy.

The sofa is killing my back however.

My new local

I’ve written before about the value of a local. I think I’ve found a new one – the beautifully named Mad Dog in the Fog. Found it thanks to Time Out’s guide to the city and it’s a top place.

It’s a British pub, it even has London Pride on tap, albeit in limited quantities. But it has the qualities of a great local. Not too crowded, a garden with sunlight and bar staff who know what they are doing. The barmaid T is a marvel; she knew my usual pint on the second night and made me feel welcome. Once the Pride barrels fell empty she recommended a pub across the street that did cask ale. When someone recommends a competitor you know they are professional.

As it turns out the pub she recommended was full of wankers, good beer but a very bad atmosphere, but fair play to her.

Add into that a plethora of good fast food places in Lower Haigh; Mythic Pizza, an excellent sausage shop and two Indian restaurants and I’ve found my spiritual home.

One odd moment. Saw a girl with a fifty pence piece in her wallet and started chatting. S was very nice, a fellow Brit and a yachty who like rugby but goes home on Wednesday, but nevertheless I spent some time showing my flirty colours.

We bonded over pints of Boddingtons and sharing information about SF. She’s gorgeous but then she mentioned she was gay. Fair enough, but hadn’t she been mentioning how much she fancied Wilkinson?

“I said I fancied him; not that I wanted to shag him,” was the pithy response.

I like this lass. We agreed to meet over the weekend.

Welcome to the world of finance

I got my bank card today.

I brought over a large amount of dollars in a money belt because I wasn’t willing to pay commission on traveller’s checks and despite the world of globalisation we often hear about my credit rating in the UK means nothing over here.

So last week I paid in a substantial amount of cash to a bank and hoped they’d allow me to take it out. But no, I’m an uncertified credit risk and so my pay check (for that is what I’m given until my social security number comes through) will be held back for seven working days until the bank is assured that I am who I say I am.

I still have access to the cash itself, but interest rates over here are pitiful. You can get maybe three per cent on a savings account if you put a huge amount of money in. No wonder personal savings rates are so low in the US. If you’re money’s going to get eaten away by currency depreciation and low rates you may as well spend, spend, spend.

Warning

Every Tuesday sirens wail across the city.

It’s a test for the emergency response system, so that in case of a nuclear, chemical or biological attack the residents can be warned to - well - probably run around like headless chickens, start looting and then die if truth be told.

But it got me thinking. Back in the days of the Cold War what would happen if the Russians staged a first strike at just that time. Everyone would assume it was just a test and no-one would take cover. To the military mind this might be a cunning plan.

I put this to our reporter and asked him what he thought of the idea: what would happen if the strike was timed for Tuesday at noon.

“Exactly the same as would happen if they scheduled it for noon on Wednesday,” he replied laconically.

“We’d all die.”

I like this chap’s attitude.

So long George

Got an early start at work today because I wanted to do some research for a work plan I’ve got cooking. If it comes off we’ll have something that’ll catch the competition flatfooted and bring a little European anarchism to the media – more later.

But the day didn’t start well. Early on the news came in that George Carlin had died. He wasn’t my favourite comic but he was important in breaking down the barriers of convention and secured an important court victory for free speech. Plus he had built a good career in character acting. I’m one of the few people on the planet that thinks Jersey Girl wasn’t that bad, partly because of his performance.

His stand-up was patchy but one routine will always make me laugh - "Me and Richard Prior are great friends. He did cocaine, I did cocaine. He had a heart attack, I had a heart attack. He set himself on fire, and I said 'That's it, you win buddy!"

Had a very interesting lunch of California cuisine with someone at work and I think we can do good things at the company. We have the same attitude to management – if an idea seems good try it out and justify it to the head hochos later. I may have found an ally.

Other than that I finally got a mobile phone – a Blackberry. Still can’t connect it to the email server yet but at least I can make calls and get text messages. It’s a good feeling to be mobile-ready again, one feels so naked without a phone. It came with a belt clip, which will never, ever get used.

Finished work and hit the gym. While there’s a lot of people in worse shape than I over here it’s time to get fit again. Cutting out lunchtime pints at The Ship will shrink the spare (bicycle, not truck) tyre but it’ll take a fair amount of work to get my stamina up again.

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.