The wheels that make us happy.

We know we are on a count down.  What is it with holidays that just as you get in the swing of them,  you have to leave? LA is unexpectedly awesome and it feels as if the is far too much left to explore and  I am frothing at the mouth at the thought of having to return to England.  Every road leads to something else I want to see, every corner shows me something exciting and every freeway seems to point towards somewhere even more thrilling than before.

Even the sleeping is easier.  Yes the sun is quite violent in its brightness first thing, but I like that being an early bird and here, I am not insanely early as I am at home.  No 5am here, I wake, yawn, stretch make tea, but at a leisurely 7 or even 8 am.  So we wake, eat breakfast in the open air (another thing I am addicted to, who wants to have breakfast INSIDE?) and the GET out.... I jump on one of the 7 bikes Gabriella puts at our disposal and start to pedal. I swear I am never more happy than when on a bike, no, maybe the only thing that makes me happier is to cycle along the beach, which after pedalling down the back streets ogling the mix of architecture, I do.  I cycle up and down the boulevard looking for the gorgeous ones who have decided they simply MUST roller skate along Venice Beach as the dudes they really are.  And I love it.  Venice Beach wakes up slowly, the drunks slowly packing away their sleeping bags, or roll a spliff or cat call 'hey preeetty lady' or start to get their cardboard signs.  There is nothing threatening, nothing is threatening at 10am. It has the feel of the morning after a free festival in the late 80's.  People just are. And then there are the mums in their tiny bikinis roller skating pushing babies in pushchairs, or men practising kick boxing, or the guys jogging with their tops off, or the groups playing volleyball in the sands. And I love it.  I cycle behind the gorgeous ones along the boardwalk towards Santa Monica pier and they are so cool.

People stop and call out at them as we pass and I adore the, for being so cool.

We wheel all the way to the pier and the all the way back towards the fisherman's pier at the other end.  In the sunshine, along the beach with the ocean in my view and the amazing houses with acres of glass and painted all colours with outdoor beds, or gardens, or pools on their roofs. And I love it.

We race back, shower change and head off to Long Beach, the place Steven, a lovely guy we met in The Castro, has suggested we simply MUST visit to shop as it is called Rockabilly Row.  Again we listen to amazing music on the way there (Elvis radio? Yes please, Underground music? Why thank you) the sun glittering off the million lanes of endless cars.

And Long Beach is great, well, the one road to be fair. Lots of thrift shops to search through and LOTS of vintage shops, HUGE vintage shops with some great great stock.  Now, I love to browse in a good vintage shop, regardless of the prices, I just love to look, feel the fabrics, adore the jewellery, peek into the cases, not necessarily to buy, I am not actually a huge fan of wearing vintage due to the fabrics involved, but I appreciate. And there is much to appreciate here!  Every shop has friendly people who simply want to chat, and we LOVE to chat so it takes us a fair while to get to the end of Rockabilly Row and YES, I finally find a few lovely pieces to buy! An adorable red & black polka dot dress, another  spotty dress and bright yellow bowling shirt....of course Sam finds some GORGEOUS things that make him look even more handsome and even Daisy who has spent all her funds manages to wheedle a couple of tshirts and vintage badges...

We return to Venice content with our purchases, with big beaming smiles on our faces and head towards a great row of surfy shops, bars and restaurants I spied whilst out cycling, just a few blocks from where we live (yes live, am not planning on coming home)  And we eat in an amazing Italian, outdoor piazza, around a fountain, the most attentive waiting staff that seem to bring out the most delicious dough balls every 5 minutes, that also have an honesty wine bottle that you help yourself to and you only pay for how many glasses you tell them you have had (imagine that in England....) with potion sizes made for giants and sauces so fresh I could almost have cooked them myself.  We all laugh a lot.  Daisy eats a HUGE amount of pasta and garlic dough balls.  The car sinks so much when we get in that the door jams on the grass verge.

And I write, I want to capture everything from the last few days, I want to hold on tight to every moment.  I know we are unlikely to ever have this kind of holiday again, the 3 of us and I don't want it to end.  Why, just when you get the hang of being on holiday do you have to go home.