The H Factor

California Dreamin’ – The Mamas & The Papas

I am in America!  And having a lovely time, since you ask.  San Francisco is splendidly sunny and architecturally fabulous and quirky and full of some serious weirdos.  I feel right at home.

This is only the second time I have been to the US on holiday – the first was in 2000 when I won two weeks at Disneyworld in Florida on a TV gameshow.  I won’t tell you which one because I know that some of my readers work in telly and probably know the best people to sleep with to access the archive, and then probably also have a cool nephew/dealer who would show them how to turn on their expensive laptop and put it on YouTube.

But suffice to say it was definitely NOT one of those arm-wavy gameshows where one has to do a lot of shrieking and making a twat of oneself, clearly it was FAR more highbrow and intellectual.  Ahem, anyway.  Either way I won an all-inclusive holiday to Disneyworld – not necessarily what I would have chosen, but one can’t be sniffy about these things.

Orlando should not be anyone’s first introduction to the United States, because it is a complete hole.  Style-wise, it is an excellent example of the Yee Ha I’m On Crack School of Architecture, where a Wild West Saloon theme bar merrily butts up against a restaurant that looks like a medieval castle constructed out of stickle bricks by a toddler, complete with ornamental moat full of plastic swans and authentic neon-lit drawbridge.  Every now and there is an empty lot full of grassy scrub where a former attraction used to stand, probably a southern plantation themed cabaret complete with barefoot slave waiters and segregated queues for black or white coffee refills.

I hated it. I hated everything about it, and then we began to get sucked into Walt Disney’s happy, blissful bosom and before long I had the same spaced out grin on my face as everyone else.  The kids loved the theme parks, but I loved the water parks – the zenith of my previous water slide experience was the Oasis in Swindon, and I can tell you now that Disney have made some significant improvements on the flume concept.  The weather was hot and steamy, the food plentiful and stuffed full of chemicals to induce euphoria, and the BBC were paying.  What’s not to love?

At then end of the fortnight, I found myself in one of the many Disney retail stores (they are everywhere - you can’t go for a Winnie-The-Pooh without having to walk through one, it’s the law), contemplating a Goofy baseball jacket.  When this kind of item feels like it might be an appropriate purchase, you know it’s time to leave – Orlando airport is full of people sporting items that, whilst perfectly acceptable in Florida, are going to make them look like a complete tosser in Welwyn Garden City.

Since 2000, I have been back to the US several times – various trips to New York, Chicago and Denver, but only ever for work.  Once I flew to New York on the 6am flight, arrived in time for a 10am local time conference, got the 7pm sleeper back and was mainlining Berocca back at my desk in Wiltshire 24 hours after I left.  This gives very limited time for shopping and sightseeing, I find.

This trip is wonderful, because for the first time I’m staying with someone who lives in the US, which means I get to live here too, and do stuff that locals do like spend the evening eating take-out pizza in my pyjamas in front of an entire season of America’s Next Top Model.

Clearly I have many exciting exploits and hilarious incidents to report, but we’ve reached a crucial moment in Tyra’s decision-making process, so I’ll be right back after this break.