It’s Coit Tower

During my driving lesson last week I was able to remember everything about the tower on Telegraph Hill: the white walls, the innumerable wooden stairs up past tiny, perfect gardens that you’d appreciate more if your thighs weren’t on fire, the WPA murals, and the brisk July breeze at the top. I only remembered it was Coit Tower tonight.

Weekend with the Thoroughly Modern Man. Disappointing ASDA avocadoes meant the fried egg & avo baguette Sunday breakfast didn’t come to pass. I’ve never had so many brown, ropey, bitter, sour, disgusting avocadoes as I have in 2010. They’re either underripe or well past edible, it’s disheartening. South Africa does grow avocadoes though, so, perhaps I’ll have two weeks of sunshine and butter fruit on toast. I suppose I might survive.

Tonight, listening to songs about San Francisco in particular, and California in general, and fighting the temptation to switch on the heating.

Nothing like the Magnetic Fields to keep a California Girl grounded …bitches.


About tara

Often heard to refrain "I left San Francisco for this?" Formerly homeschooled. Living the dirt-poor post-student expat life in various non-urban areas of England's North. Sanity preserved by cooking yummy foods for a multiple allergy diet.
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