"Capped Teeth and Caesar Salad, Good Old Beverly Hills..."

Uber. I’ve heard of it, of course, the taxi service that has cab companies around the world up in arms. Never used it though, as I suspect its coverage of lovely Minchinhampton is a wee bit minimal. More a city thing, I suppose, so on recommendation I downloaded the app, set up an account, and put in a request for a ride up to Wilshire Boulevard yesterday morning. Had only just pressed confirm when the GPS map indicated that the car and driver were outside! I clicked on car pool, so we sped off and collected another passenger, nattering about the tension between Uber and LA cab companies. I was duly dropped at my destination, and the whole thing cost me about £5! If it’s that easy, I may not rent a car at all, especially as the parking restrictions in these ‘ere parts are many and complicated – you can only park in the direction of travel, and on Wednesday and Thursday mornings, you can’t park at all on the warren on residential streets to allow for cleaning. Hmm, a note to our ‘good friends’ (!) on Minch’ Parish Council perhaps? Protect Our Space (from the accumulation of grot on the roads!!). 

So, the purpose of my excursion to Beverly Hills (seriously, BEVERLY HILLS) was to meet with my good friend Bonnie’s brother. Said brother (Rob) is a big-wig at the William Morris agency, one of the leading talent representatives in Hollywood. Yikes! How to dress for Hollywood? Sat in reception looking out at the view, and there was the Hollywood sign in the distance. You’ll be please to know that I resisted the urge to ‘ooo and ah’, and anyway, I was suffering from the effects of caffeine and jet lag. Seriously, I was convinced Bon’s brother might wonder if I was a nervous junkie, I was twitching so much. I was collected by Rob’s assistant, a rather perfect-looking young man with the whitest, neatest teeth I have ever seen, and swept into the hubbub of the WME offices. I spent the whole walk talking to his teeth! Now I haven’t seen Rob for 25 years, but you know that thing where time and distance means nothing? Lovely guy (well he is Bon’s brother!), and genuinely interested in what I am up to. Full of ideas and suggestions and happy to help me approach the various women with whom I want to talk, and how to write a 'pitch'!  

Feeling energised, I went for a wander, marvelling at the fabulously expensive ‘high-end’ cars clogging the side streets, and stopped for something to eat at a pavement café, where I sat beneath a tree and had to cover my lunch with a napkin as assorted leaves and seed pods were falling into my salad, all the while hoping it wasn’t like a sycamore or something equally toxic! 

The area where I am staying is a stark contrast to the glitz of that end of Wilshire, and as I walked down to a local supermarket, it sort of reminded of bits of Hackney, if Hackney was made up of small, 1920s single storey houses and lined with those ridiculously tall palms you see on film and TV. A wee bit rundown, but up-and-coming at the same time. A wander around Ralphs reminded me that it’s difficult to buy things in small sizes in US supermarkets – seriously, you’d need a very roomy hatchback to transport THAT size of milk carton home! Lovely check out woman Whitney gave me discounts on everything, even though I had no discount card, and I wandered back, exhausted and sweating under the blazing sun. 

But the best thing? After many months of a hugely enjoyable email conversation with A, the actress who rather got all this started, I spoke with her on the phone last evening. It was a lovely continuation of our electronic chatting, and we were instantly laughing about various things. For me an instantly recognisable voice, a mix of British and American - it’s astonishing and thrilling to think I have been a fan of hers since 1979 or 1980! This evening we will meet up for an early dinner and then go see a couple of old movies as part of a Dorothy Arzner retrospective (look her up!). A has even insisted she come and pick me up, which is very generous.

Plan to explore the local area a bit today, and see if I can find a park in which to run – the physio says I can do 20 minute runs, but no more. If nothing else, I shall return from Tinsel Town a slightly trimmer giraffe than I departed!