At 3.30am, my eyes sprang open. Thoughts whirring. I did yoga breathing and stole a couple more hours fitful sleep but, by 6am, I wasn't going to get any more full sleep so I got up and started packing.
I saw my house-sitter Nathan, watered the plants, sorted Cyril, sorted my cleaner Paula, finished the work, e-mailed it in, talked to the parents and to Ross and set off by 10:30am.
Actually, talking with Ross I was saying that none of this feels real. The idea that discussions before Christmas, buying a flight ticket in January, various e-mails and telephone calls, a week of extreme pressure at work to complete tasks on schedule, and suddenly I'm walking out the door to get on the Tube and start a journey that will end in San Francisco doesn't feel possible. Still, it's here.
Let's move quickly. Arrived Heathrow and the check-in for United Airways was the quickest I've ever experienced - like 10 minutes or less. Straight through passport control. I had the most disgusting meal at some fast food place. In retrospect, I should have complained. Then the call went out for my flight and again it was one of the swiftest embarkations I've ever experienced. Whatever else they are UA are very efficient.
And then we were off. Ten hours is a long flight but the cabin crew kept the interruptions to a minimum so there was a sense of relaxation in the cabin. There was ample room for even me to stretch my legs, so I dozed a bit of the time. The food was reasonable and the in-flight entertainment entertained.
They showed a bowderlised version of Elizabeth which meant the violence was toned down and Christopher Eccleston's buttocks were edited out. We are due for the remake of Psycho on the way back. I can't see how they will be able to show that without similar tampering and, if they do that, how much sense the film will make in any case. We also got Babe II; Pig in the City. I'm glad I wasted no money on this as it was awful.
And then pressure in the ears announced that we were dropping. And then through the window, through the clouds, in a clear sunny day, the Golden Gate Bridge again and the City by the Bay.
Landing was fine. We were twenty minutes early. Baggage reclaim was swift. Even customs went smoothly. I couldn't believe it. I wandered on past some fountains that weren't working listening to a tape loop of four greetings from Mayor Willy Brown which, because they followed on so quickly from one another, sounded as though the man didn't really believe in what he was saying.
I emerged into the arrivals lounge some twenty-five minutes before the earliest I thought I would be. So I wasn't that distressed that Chris hadn't shown up. Nearly an hour later, I was concerned and feeling so tired that I was wilting rapidly.
But I didn't panic. After all I had plastic. If the worst came to the worst I would book myself into the best hotel possible. What actually happened was that I purchased a phone card and called Chris on his cell phone to find that there had been gridlock on the freeway but that his was less than five minutes away. So, I waited outside and then it was streams of red and white lights on the freeway as we headed north to San Francisco.
Chris's ground floor loft flat is spacious but compact. However, I think the industrial design means that it feels cold even when it isn't. Chris's partner Steven, joined us and we headed off to near the Castro for a meal. And we talked and talked about life. And that's something I guess I miss in my life at the moment. Time for long conversations. I explained to Chris about Ross and I and how there wasn't really an easy word to sum up our relationship but that it was like parallel interwoven lives of two people in love who have distinct but complementary paths. And I explained to Steven about this Journal. And we talked about his and my work.
I got to bed at just after 10pm. It was already 6am in the UK. I'd been on the go for 24 hours.