I do love Virgin Atlantic; I got a massage and roast belly pork and an endless supply of Bellinis so I didn't mind the plane being late; I'd much rather they did the maintenance and swapped out the avionics box and had a safe plane. Even waiting on the tarmac another hour wasn't too bad and with dinner and the hugely enjoyable Red and lots of sleep the flight was fine. But the winds were against us so the flight to LA was 12 hours not 10 and all the delays meant only two immigration staff were left to deal with our plane and the Mexican plane and the Russian plane so immigration took two hours (and then no buses to the car rental and only two staff for that queue too) so it was local midnight before we got a car and headed off to Santa Monica.
All that means I've had terrible jet lag (plus I have that terrible thing for a freelance writer, a lot of work so I've been working every day) and I am shattered. We flew Friday and I didn't dream until Monday (REM sleep please!) and Mary longing for bed at ten is not common. All the work means we haven't even gone up to the Bellagio to see the wonderful fountains yet...
Breakfast at Coras in Santa Monica was awesome as ever; tomato jam and brioche toast ;-) Vasquez Rocks was atmospheric, gorn geeky and lovely to ramble and Barstow turned out to have a great home-cooking Mexican. We turned down towards Zzyzx and took photos of the salt lake, which is picturesque desolation and discovered that the road to Vegas that we usually drive in the dark is scenic desert.
Tonight we ventured out for an evening event at a nightclub in the Wynne; sitting outside I looked up through the trees just before this heavy rain started and the sky was the milky colour of really bad tea. I feel a bit like that at the moment!