Just when my liver’s back in some kind of shape, I wander into the lobby of my hotel in Nob Hill (really) yesterday and who do I see?

Only Robert Loch and Scott Rutherford.

Only staying in my hotel.

Next thing I know, I’m waking up in my bathtub wearing a pair of plastic sunglasses that – I later discover – I bought off Rob for twenty dollars. And today Paul Birch came to town and from Saturday half of London lands at SFO.

This could get very messy indeed.


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