So, a week of contrasts since my last musings. From the tacky-luxe of the oasis that is Las Vegas, through the desolate space of Death Valley, to the lush alpine-esque Mammoth Springs. Undoubtedly, one of my "highlights" of the week was being in a kayak in Mammoth with the tyrant masquerading as Ella - I have a new understanding of how those Roman slaves must have felt.

And then on to Yosemite. Hotel was wonderful, but just too far out of the park to make the most of the trails (my loss, no-one else shared my view!). Nick and I shared a walk up to see Chilnualha Falls, our hands flailing like windscreen wipers in front of our faces to keep the flies away. The next day's walk from Glacier Point is one that will stay in my memory, at the very least for as long as my calves still hurt ( day 5 post-walk, and they're still causing me to wince when I walk).

San Francisco is wonderful. Obviously a climate shock - overcast and ten degrees colder but still capable of inducing sunburn through Factor 50 face cream. Seeing the kids faces as they clung on to the handrails on the cable cars was another highlight, though the queues weren't. By some freak of fate, we ended up eating in the very same restaurant in Chinatown that we ate in 11 years ago. Not sure it merited our return custom - tripadvisor said it wasn't nearly as good as the one next door, which had guests queung in the street. Anyone with an impatient husband ended up in ours.

The next day's cycling over The Golden Gate Bridge seemed like a given, until we hit the first hill and I changed into third gear instead of first. Not a natural cyclist, unlike the rest of my family. I'd rather walk it. Still, the flat and downhill parts were fun, and Sausalito charming . Later that afternoon, I made a solo trip to the Mission District to look at their street art. It was a public transport bonanza, took flippin' ages and landed in me in the Latino area where I was too scared to go down the famous street art alleys in case someone tried to nick my phone or offer me drugs.

Dinner in the Boudin Sourdough Bistro resulted in my own TOP TIP - when the waitress brings your bottle of wine and shows it to you for approval, either put on your reading glasses or pass it to your children for checking. Don't do what Nick did -squint, and check that the first letter of the big writing at the top of the label is the same as the first letter of the wine you think you ordered. You might be lucky, you might not. Nick wasn't.

This morning's breakfast pick up at Starbucks was more memorable than I'd have liked. The Hispanic barista chose the classic Spanish pronunciation of J, resulting in her shouting out "Ho" not once but three times as she issued my drinks. The shame of having to collect them in front of a busy coffee shop will go with me to my grave.