On holiday - Part 2

I think it's fair to say that nobody in the family was particularly enthusiastic to go to a cocktail party for the over-80s, but it wasn't too bad an experience - in particular, it featured the most expensive-looking buffet that I am likely to see in my entire life, and we all stuffed ourselves with the gigantic pile of sashimi.

And today, we went down to an all-you-can-eat brunch buffet, where everyone made themselves ill and then had to suffer the indignity of the Toilet Attendant. This is something I haven't experienced before - he hangs around outside the cubicles, sprays your hands with soap when you approach, hands you some paper towels and then expects a tip for it. I can't describe to you just how incredibly awkward it is.

One of the advantages of Whitney's grandmother's house is having a pool outside, and we swam during the evening, with me discovering that I can now just about manage twice my official badged swimming length - five metres. Never really having learned to swim is quite embarrassing at this stage, seeing as if you fell into the water while dead you would probably float five metres faster that I can swim it.

Tomorrow we were going to go to Disneyland, but nobody feels up to it any more. We might even drive up back to Whitney's parents' house instead. Five and a half hours on the road - you couldn't drive anywhere near that length in Scotland, you'd fall into the sea. And I wouldn't be able to swim.

Life in the city, living in L.A.

I've just realized several things. I'm in Los Angeles, surrounded by rather obscene wealth. Somehow, this has made me realize even more that nothing is the same as it is in Britain - the Scotch pies I used to like from Fisher and Donaldson are unknown (in fact someone had to ask me what "pie 'n' chips" were the other week - I was unable to begin explaining it to someone who had no idea of the concept). Nobody here understands what cricket is, and I've no idea about the rules of most American sports - American football in particular seems like a large-scale violent version of Backgammon. And I'm constantly lamenting how rubbish American television is compared to what I miss in Britain, particularly now the writer's strike is set to eliminate all the virtually identical police dramas that fight off all the virtually identical vote-off-by-week reality programmes.

In other words, I've become the Sherrif of Huddersfield.