The five more sleeps were slept and how fast they went. The days were full of lasts. Last hugs, last dinners and breakfasts with pals, last coffees, last sitting with Max amongst the catnip, last walk around my hood and last teary good-byes at the airport.

So from lasts to firsts. First time in San Francisco. First shuttle ride from the airport where I met Amanda whose father was a real gangster in Chicago. He was a bank robber who was shot dead by his mate for betrayal. Amanda was 8 and ironically, she is in banking & finance! And then I managed to get Mario the hotel porter’s life story out from the lobby to the 10th floor. He’s working hard to save to spend his retiring years back in Puerto Rico, hates San Fran & only has a few years to go. I refrained from giving him a career planning session but if I’d been staying on the 12th floor I may have had time.

San Francisco is an amazing city of contrasts. The people are so friendly & respectful yet there is a sadness with the homeless & many disturbed people. Perhaps Vietnam Vets? Hippies gone bad? But generally lots of peace and love. This is a good transition place to be. Feeling quite sad and alone, but also allowing myself to feel what I need to feel. (At this point, I’d like to thank the sexy, young barman who pretended not to see my tears).

Change isn’t easy. It’s hard. But not doing this is not an option. Bring on Day 2 in San Francisco.