Dames knows how lucky he is to be outside the walls of Alcatraz.
This is our Christmas picture. We're high on a hill above San Francisco, having eaten some barbeque at the festively-decorated house of Matt (Bev's brother) and Amanda (Matt's wife). The two red lights in the background are on top of the Golden Gate bridge.
A little to our left, though not actually in the picture, are the lights of Candlestick Park - the venue of the Beatles' last ever proper concert (the roof of the Apple Building in Savoy Row doesn't count). Sadly, they've renamed it Monster Park, because they hold Monster Truck events there now (heathens).
We stayed in South Beach in Miami. We bought shorts and slapped on the Factor 30, but the sun barely showed its face all day. Here's Jules looking lovely and windswept. The next day was absolutely stunning: cloudless blue skies, but, because we were flying to San Francisco that evening, we were dressed in our winter clothes all day. Bah!
Still, we could put the roof down and cruise along Ocean Drive looking pretty damn cool, listening to the local radio stations and generally having a groovy time.
Here's Dames on a streetcar named dessert. We loved San Francisco from the minute we fell out of our shuttle bus and into a bar that served Guinness and Magners. The next day, we strolled along Fisherman's Wharf and window-shopped in Union Square before going over to Matt and Amanda's for much carousing and fun. So much carousing, in fact, that we didn't make it back to the hostel and were kindly allowed to crash at their place. Dames swears that he was woken by a wee tremor at the crack of dawn (9.30 am).
Yo ho ho! It's a pirate's life for us. This is us being tourist-y at Fisherman's Wharf (Worf?). Don't you think Jules looks as though she's contemplating all sorts of mischief?
And a classic tourist pose for Dames, too. Happy Christmas, one and all!
