Leaving my heart in San Francisco

Jetlag more or less behind me, I’m back up and running now, after being taken to San Francisco for two weeks for my 40th birthday. The Flickr feed on the right has some of the finest moments, although there aren’t any photos of the bit where I rode over the Golden Gate Bridge on the back of a Harley Davidson. I was too busy clinging on.

It seems I have some catching up to do when it comes to worrying about the credit crunch, if the hourly ‘reports’ (read ‘wild speculation’) from journalists and City types – neither noted for their sober, thoughtful, stoicism – are to be believed. So far I have irresponsibly failed to work myself into a trouser-wetting panic over it.

You can’t not report events, I know, but the BBC’s Robert Peston’s televised palpitations ought to include a little context: ‘…meanwhile 95% of mortgages got paid just fine, most people aren’t going to lose their jobs, and hey, it’s only money.’

Then again, if things do get really bad, I might even have to get a job.