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Published: January 22nd 2009
January 16th 2009
We’re on a cruise through Beverly Hills and Bel Air, and this is where the Beckhams used to live. Can you spot Jay Leno’s home from behind that massive wall of hedges? No? It’s O.K. because he ain’t there… He’s at the NBC studio practicing his lines, not that it made any difference to his comedy. He speaks with his chin, and boy is it funny. Hugh Laurie slinked on stage looking sheepish until the roar died down and George yelled DARLING (Hugh’s character’s name on Black Adder). Dr. House looked right up at us, then cracked a massive grin and said, “Tally ho!” He continued to then grizzle about how hard it is for a Brit living in LA at Christmas time because woolen items are of no use here! Alas, the White House Chief Correspondent wasn’t nearly as gripping. He channelled a four-year-old, practically bragging, “Guess who I know? Barack Obama!”
After a Mexican feast, we found ourselves totally and completely at the mercy of L.A. public transportation. It was a total and complete disaster! Three buses drove right on past us, almost running George over in their attempt to ignore
The guy who owns Guess' House
He has a Ferrari for every day of the week!!possible passengers. To the taxis, we were equally invisible. After 45 minutes in the (what now feels like) freezing cold, a bus finally stopped, and a nice man gave us change for our twenty while adjusting his teeth with enthusiasm. Once we got home, it took two crosswords to cheer us up, followed by a T.V. viewing of The Tonight Show, where we listened for our yells and whoops with much anticipation and success.
January 17th 2009
Thankfully, the Taylors came to our rescue once again. At noon, Kathleen, Chloe and Viveca came to save us from our room, which was slowly but surely mildewing over in the heat. We drove to the beautiful Santa Monica, and immediately ate at Chloe’s favourite restaurant, which was deliciously Italian (and the service wasn’t slow at all!) We wandered around the pier, watching the fishermen and various hustlers trying to make a quick greenback, all framed by a giant Ferris wheel and flashing lights.
We then wandered down the promenade, Viveca’s shopping strip of choice, where cars weren’t allowed but everything else goes! The street was dotted with father-son dance
routines, various magicians, shops for all tastes and budgets, and finally, a delicious gelato emporium. George chose custard and cherry, and was the envy of all but me with my tropical mix.
Upon returning, we went for a quick swim, and came home to find Jeremy busy cooking up fajitas and mixing margaritas like a pro. Our final meal lasted well into the night with much merrymaking all around (sans Chloe, unfortunately, who HAD to go cosmic bowling with her soccer team)!
January 18th 2009
Two words: Apple Pancakes. Ok, so, the syrup hasn’t been harvested straight from the tree, but hey, I’m a long way from Canada. Oh, say can you see, how he makes them fluffy? Afterwards, it’s straight back to our personal resort at Forest Glen, making all the desperate housewives jealous because we get the most prime lounge chairs. Daily Exercise: one lap of the pool followed by reapplication of sunscreen. Refreshing.
After a classic Californian lunch, we sadly say our goodbyes, and Kathleen lovingly drops us at the airport. We promise, we’ll write! And send those girls
over to 148 Roxborough Dr. I know there’s more than one room to fill, and a mom/dad happy to return the huge favour. Tell them it’s not that cold in winter… we promise!
The airport proves reLAXing (sorry). George saw the new double-decker ‘airbus A380’ and almost wet his pants, I had to drag him to the bar (very unusual). Alas, the in-flight movies were so grippingly bad/good that we had to stay up and watch three. In Papeete, French Polynesia, we were greeted by men playing ukuleles and women handing out delicate white flowers, just like you’d imagine!
What you didn’t imagine was the 45-minute ‘other’ passport line. Mr. UK Passport hopped through in three seconds while I was stuck behind the sweatiest, oldest bunch of American holidaymakers, who complained loudly and eternally when a wheelchair-bound person and his two friends skipped the line. Sigh.
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