You'll be pleased to hear I'm going to lump the next two days into one blog. This is for two reasons: 1) I seem to have made zero notes on the 18th and 2) Not a lot happened on the 19th.

The 18th started with a takeout breakfast from the Ferry Building and we sat to eat it overlooking the bay on our last morning in San Fran. Afterwards, we picked up our rental car, a Dodge Journey, which looked pretty nice but turned out to be, in Mr F's words, a "gutless wonder". Leaving the rental car park, Mr F did his usual 'I'm not meant to be driving on the left and it's okay to turn right at a red light if it's clear' speech and then we were away safe and sound.

Today we were heading about 30 minutes south down the coast to Half Moon Bay. A cute little holiday spot very big on surfing and the starting point for a day-long boat trip on pelagic seabirds. I had decided not to join Mr F on this occasion. Not for any particular reason other than seabirds only keep my attention for a couple of hours at best. I was instead going to investigate the possibility of a horse ride on the beach.

The drive was short and we had plenty of time to spare so we stopped several times for the onboard birder to get his feathery fix. That done, we were still too early to check in to the palatial America's Best Value Motel (can you guess...Mr F booked this one). Instead we dropped our bags off and headed 'downtown' to mooch and catch some lunch.

On the way, we passed the horse riding place I was thinking of using on the morrow. I'm certainly no expert but I didn't get a good feeling about it and it looked pretty dodgy. Perhaps I wouldn't be riding down the beach after all.

We found a very nice little cafe for lunch and sat outside in the sun whilst we chowed down on some spectacular sarnies.

It's at this point that my notes get a bit hazy. I've written that we 'laughed at dogs' but I have no recollection of why we did this at all. I presume that there must have been a particular incident that caused me to record it and that we didn't just sit their giggling at every hound that walked past. Sadly we shall never know.

I do remember the bookshops however, and that we spent the post-lunch hour digesting our meal lost amidst second-hand paperbacks. Other than birding, Mr F is never happier than when up to his eyeballs in books, and I admit that I too come under this category. Personally I find the experience is only improved when said bookshop also offers big hazelnut lattes with cream.

With our book fetish slaked for the day, we went back to the motel of motels to check in. The room, though not palatial in the Four Seasons sense, was better than I'd imagined and the two beds were of american proportions and very comfortable.

Once settled in, we drove off to find the boat dock for Mr F's grand trip on the morrow - he is so organised it scares me sometimes. It turned out to be easy to find and so we returned via the scenic route along the beach. A quiet evening was spent eating noodles and watching TV - we're such adventure mongers.

19/09/11
Mr F was off unbelievably extremely early so I had only a vague memory of mumbling wishes of good luck and requests not to fall in etc, etc.

After a rare lie-in, I wandered down to the reception for breakfast. I discovered a very misty morning and a self-service waffle maker. I sadly didn't get to use it though as a French family completely took over the tiny breakfast zone so I made do with cereal and coffee.

Back in our room, I did a quick web search for the riding stable down the road. It was mostly bad reviews with only a few 'oh don't be so silly' ones thrown in. I opted not to go despite it meaning a whole day on my own doing very little but that's never been a problem for me. At least, not when I'd bought a new book the day before.

I switched on the coffee machine, hung up the 'do not disturb' sign, flipped on the tube and made busy with my new book.

My day continued in this theme with only the coffee changing to swamp water once the filters ran out. The swamp water turned out to be apple 'cider' juice bought by Mr F the day before. I think the word ' cider' referred to it's manufacture on the back porch of a red-necked yokel who had a thing about possums. Once you got past the colour and opacity, it didn't taste too bad really - good job too as we had a 4 litre bottle.

My TV viewing that day could hardly be classed as highbrow. I bounced between channels and I'm ashamed to admit the western music channel became somewhat addictive if only for the variety of cowboy hats. Happily interspersing this was the supernatural channel and a veritable feast of shopping channels.

I came close on several occasions to purchasing an entire beauty regime from Elle McPherson, some fantastic stuff called flexseal which could mend a whole host of household items and a super lightweight garden strimmer as used by the professionals. Luckily for both my bank balance and luggage limit, I saw the error of my ways.

Mr F's boat was due back around 5/6pm but when it got to 7pm, I wasn't unduly worried. It was Mr F we were talking about after all. In fact, I'm more concerned when he returns from a birding jaunt early and hence, unsuccessful and grumpy.

When it got to 7.30, I expected him home any minute. When it got to 7.45, I expected a knock on the door. When it got to 8, I gave it a minute and then double checked the timings. Yes, if the boat left at 7 and they were out for 10 hrs, he should be back by now, even with an extra couple of hours thrown in for good luck. I reminded myself that this was a boat load of birders prone to veering off after any small feathery thing if it looked even remotely like a rare species. Tick, tock, tick, tock...

At 8.15, I allowed a few small concerns to sneak in round the edges. At 8.30, I officially started to worry. At 8.45, I started to make plans of who to ring first. At 8.50, I started imagining terrible things and finally, finally, a knock came at the door. Thankfully it wasn't the maid or the police but the wayward and my one-time husband, Mr F. He was actually surprised I was a tad worried. His response as usual on such events was "I'm like cream, I always float to the top!" This time, I was thinking more along the lines of a buoy!