Stayed in bed till about 9 – what luxury! – then Terry came in, and we joined her for coffee at the corner café. (I indulged myself with my favourite – cappuccino.) Somehow or other that took us to about 10.45, which was much later than we had intended, since we intended to shoot a roll of film, and put it in to a 1-hour developing place I had seen on Fisherman’s Wharf, to check if the camera had survived its fall. We caught the bus to Powell + Market, and took quite a few shots around there – street scenes, road signs, a band playing in the Bart Plaza: just shots to use the film up, basically. Next stop was Coit Tower – oh, I nearly forgot, we treated ourselves to a good cooked breakfast at a café on Market; sufficient, we hoped, to last us through the day. Right, Coit Tower. We took a couple of the usual pictures, then spent some time debating whether to go to Lombard St., and whether to catch the bus, and walking up + down the hill as we did so. Eventually, after taking some moderately silly pictures, we decided to walk. We took more silly snaps round Pier 39 + Fisherman’s Wharf, and finally, with time running out and one shot left, a close-up of Val pulling a face. We whisked them into the shop, and then stood glued to the shop window, since you could see the people working, and the prints popping off the machine. Meanwhile I called Meher to tell her we wouldn’t be too long. Then, after 45 mins or so, and with some excitement, we saw our prints coming off, with, of course, Val’s stupid face left on top of the pile. The people standing next to us recognised her – I don’t know how. And to our delight, they were all excellent. We rushed to the bus stop and shot back to the shop, packed our bags, and shot out again, taking some time to show Danny, + a friend of his, the pix. Back onto the bus (no, it hadn’t waited for us), back to Bart, and out to Hayward. Meher had asked us to catch the bus up to the campus, so we took a transfer and did so. However, we then missed the stop, so had to go to the end of the line, and catch it on the way back. Then, we couldn’t find a phone, nor anyone to ask the way to walk to their street. Started anyway in the direction we thought, and when we saw a house, stopped + asked the way there. The guy said it was easier to take us, so he did. We were very late, but Meher re-heated the lasagne. Quelle heroine.
Quite a catalogue of noteworthy comments. My excitement about a cappuccino – ubiquitous now, a rarity then. My determination not to miss out on describing a meal. Our excitement about a one hour developing studio – then the latest thing, now gone the way of the diplodocus. The need to find public telephones. And our unfailing ability to get lost, almost in any circumstance.