Saint David

Following Highway 101 down the coast, my Couch Surfing driver gave more of a guided tour as he pointed out his old haunts growing up along the California coastline. What really fascinated me, however, was his own personal history. Once a base commander on the East-West German border during the height of the cold war, his duty, should it have come to the crunch, was to fend off a Soviet attack across the border. If this scenario had arisen, the 5 tanks and 5 armoured cars under his command were charged with holding off the first ground wave of 300 Russian tanks. With no initial air support. They weren't even allowed to fire until they'd assessed the weapons capability of their adversary, picking out the command vehicles and threats to aircraft. My eyes widened. That plan sounded nuts. I think he agreed. What's more, it would have put a kybosh on this lift, donated 20 years later.

I'll hoo-yah to that!

The main reason for this side trip to California is to visit my mate from uni, Mark (Hi Mark - he reads this blog. Bless.), out here with the Bold and the Beautiful, running PCRs in between episodes of Gossip Girl and a chilled Margarita. I got here on the 26th, but wasn't in town for long. On the 27th and 28th we took an ill-fated 24 whirlwind trip to Vegas, which comprised 15 hours on the road and 9 hours in the town (at least 6 hours of which were spent asleep). Vegas is as you'd expect. It's bright, brash and tacky. What I saw of it was entertaining, but I'm not compelled to return. We may have only seen a few of the extravagant bordering on gawdy hotel lobbies and malls, but it was enough for mine virgin eyes. The monuments people build for their own satisfaction and fame can never compare to the wonders so casually laid on at nature's whim. This goes doubly for the Planet Hollywood we ate in before Leaving Las Vegas - some Mariah Carey wannabe reciting Goldilocks' various Christmas adventures ad infinitum. I know it's a terrible thing to say, but I'm surprised that particular branch in the Caesar's Palace Mall hasn't been the scene of the latest spate of American shootings. I can only pray that Goldilocks hibernated throughout Lent, Easter, Ramadan or Diwali.

On New Year's Eve we headed up to LA to welcome in 2009 at Mark's friend's place in Pacific Palisades for what turned out to be a very grown-up dinner party. There was no drunkedness; no debauchery; no vomiting; and no hangover. The guests ranged from an 8-year old with no-one to play with to a producer whose conversational captaincy had the potential to play on the collective nerve. Yes love, Susan Sarandon might be a b**** when you worked with her, but I'm sure the Virgin Mother would have put in a complaint to the Almighty had she spent a prolonged period of time with you. Maybe I'm being a little harsh. She was fine the next day. Possibly she found it difficult to stop being a TV Producer; possibly she was a little snowblind. If no one else gets on with her, there's a chance Sarah Jessica Parker might.

After dinner and the passing of Midnight, the hostess whipped out her old Vinyls and we had ourselves a night of nostalgia. The teenage couple in attendance were overjoyed at her 80s pop, collected when she was a whippersnapper. I was more involved in the Led Zep records, fingering the wheel of LZ III to see what images were associated with the four band members. There was not enough love for the Led to receive as much airtime as I liked, but I'm going to see 'Dazed and Confused' - a tribute to the Zep - on the 8th sod I can get my thrust on then.

By 4am we were all deservedly knackered and we all headed into bed. Mark slid in with the hostess (not half as salacious as it sounds), whilst I slept on the floor very aware that both bed buddies were expecting to be woken in the wee hours by my thunderous snoring.

Since then, I have to bow my head in shame and admit I haven't done all that much in San Diego. I've been round the touristy gas lamp district and toured a decommissioned aircraft carrier. Other than that I've been relaxing, releasing a glut of photos onto the web (as you no doubt will have noticed) and writing these blogs. I have to get out and do stuff.

Manyana. I promise!

Tony is going back up to LA the way he came down: with the Defender of the Free World!