18.06.12 - Lift Off

So the odyssey begins. Two days in and what I have definitely noticed it that if you are on your own people talk to you much more. I’m usually quite wary of strangers talking to me, not through fear, well actually through fear that they will be horrendously boring and I won’t be able to escape. But when you’re on your own the only other option is talking to oneself, which admittedly I do, but I do that in London anyway so not much change. The first person who spoke to me as we were boarding the plane, was an English guy, fifties, east Londoner, who was with a group of twenty golfers, all male, all a similar age who were going on a ‘bucket list’ golfing holiday to the American west coast. He was sitting two rows ahead of me and spent most of the flight prancing around in a pair of shorts and flight socks which looked like odd, dark green hold ups. Took me a while to realise that they were flight socks and not bizarre golfing socks. He loved back chatting the air stewards and trying to wangle his way into the first class bar area, which he seemed to manage. Lads on tour seemingly never change.
    The two other seats on my row were taken by two older Geordie ladies from Whitley Bay so that made me feel very much at home. They were an aunt and niece without many years between them, serial cruisers and this time off to Alaska by boat from San Francisco, I was plied with mints but Aunt Betty who, when we landed and stood up, was approx 5 feet tall.
    The in flight entertainment which I had been looking forward to, as Virgin are meant to be quite good at, was disappointing, as was the food. Lowest moment was a cheese and onion sandwich, rank. Betty’s mints were more appreciated after that.
    The queue for immigration was absolutely massive and, again, found myself chatting to the people next to me. They were an English family of four, two daughters, who were coming back from a holiday in the UK. He was a priest in Kent, went out to observe a church in Reading, CA, as it was getting a lot of hype and ended up staying. His wife is now ordained as well and they have been there for four years. Basically new age missionaries. Ironically they were the family making a fuss about not sitting together at Heathrow and then pulling out the violins to get themselves first dibs on the food. I’m sure that is what JC would do.
    The immigration officers make you feel like a criminal, especially when you say that you are staying for two months. I didn't admit that I was doing an internship as I thought that would cause confusion but I was made to show my credit cards, I suppose to prove that I can pay for my stay, who knows? My bag came through which is unusual and I took a taxi to 158 Beaumont Avenue. It’s easy to forget the luxury of The Knowledge and expect taxi drivers to know where they’re going. Luckily I had a map and could direct otherwise we would have been going round in circles for ages.
    From her email Sandra Sutton, the land lady, sounded mildly weird and a bit neurotic but she is just mildly crazy and very nice. She talks at about 100 miles and hour and buys fresh cooked turkey for her dog, a miniature schnauzer called Annie, every couple of days. She drives everywhere but does yoga three times a week and lived in Marlow for a year where she found everyone very snobby, unsurprisingly. However, she has kitted out my room to perfection, even trying out the bed to check that the room was ok to sleep in. The only downside is the severe lack of daylight. Although the room is on the ground floor from the front, it is behind the garage and underground at the back so the two small side windows are it and they look out onto a wall. Used to the large bay windows of Number 10 it is a little depressing and makes you feel as though you’re in a timeless zone, is it day, is it night?  I have been left a list of important things to do and not do  including “No burning candles, no smoking and no drugs”, so presumably sex and alcohol are permitted. Booze fuelled orgies at mine then, but do not light that scented candle.
    Food shopping at Whole Foods. I’ve only got a toaster, kettle and microwave so cooking options are reduced but I shall survive. I might have to get inventive with the microwave. I kept myself awake until 8pm (4am UK time) watching Ratatouille, such a great film, and then slept for 12 hours.