I move back from the pastoral of Point Reyes to the mean streets of San Francisco. Actually, couldn’t be further from the truth – mean streets – I mean.

The Sunday Farmers’ Market on Clement is not mean. The sun shines, the people are slim, happy, Californian friendly and good looking. The fruit and vegetables and stuff are so fresh and homegrown. It is very different from the America I hear about from Europeans.

I stumble to the Plough and Stars where, 15, 20 years ago, I used to play a lot of traditional Irish music.

People are playing, they are old friends!

I am swept away by the wonderfulness of everything and what is more, am given a free pint of Guinness.

Thank you everyone in the Plough for warm welcome.

Drunk on one pint of Guinness, I hirple down Clement to buy more octopus from one of the excellent Chinese supermarkets. I then get fresh Dim Sum and a Waymo home, wallowing in happiness and joy.

Things take a turn for the worse as I get out of the car at the house to realise that I no longer have my flute. I have left it somewhere.

James and I rush back to the Dim Sum store. No one speaks English but they do have my flute! My incredible luck abides!

I must keep taking the steroids.