A Brisk Constitutional

San Francisco

Plunged into despair this morning by the twin evils of a hangover and Scotland's abject capitulation at home to Norway, I decided to get out into the fresh air as soon as I could. It's great to be back at the seaside although the Fisherman's Wharf area where I walked first is a major tourist trap. Lots of already fat Americans tucking in to overpriced plates of clam chowder while admiring their new "I Escaped From Alcatraz" XXXL t-shirts.

Much better is the grassy area on the front towards the Golden Gate bridge. As I walked through the park a parade of military boats began in the bay. One of them was enormous, and the flotilla was followed by a fine air display. Apparently it's Fleet Week which means less than nothing to me although it does lead to lots of guys in sailor suits loitering outside the strip clubs that are dotted around the city.

The bridge is stunning. The orangey-red colour reminded me of the Forth rail bridge, although the bright sunshine makes this version look more appealing. As you walk along there are a series of phones which I imagined were for use in case your car breaks down, until I read the signs which say they're for contacting a counselling helpline, just in case you feel like jumping to your death. I decided I'd rather walk back to ground level.