I can't be funny while jet-lagged. I just discovered this. Can't be funny, pluck my own eyebrows, or drive very well, while sleep-deprived. See? Anyway, this is about the trip to California. No words can describe the strangeness of switching from London (work and making children eat vegetables) to San Francisco (watching your own movie with 1500 people who laugh in all the right places). Screening at the Castro was the most fun I've had with my clothes on in ages. And how much more interactive Americans are than Brits! The sighs, the groans, the wolf whistles. And that was before the movie even started...The evening began with a book signing at A Different Light bookstore down the street. Things did not bode well when we showed up the morning of the signing to check on things, and the owner had no idea it was happening despite Aida's organising. Hastily, they printed a few flyers and stuck them on the door. Now, since the flyers were next to picture books filled with hunks of gay manhood, this did not fill me with confidence that anyone would actually show up. I shuffled in at 7.30 with a heavy heart and a direction from Hanan that we'd wrap it up in ten minutes...and found a roomful of lesbians of extremely good taste waiting expectantly. Quickly, I found a piece of I Can't Think Straight to read out, and like any good writer, chose the part leading up to a sex scene and stopped right before it. I swear that helped sales...or maybe it was Sheetal who arrived as I finished, and also signed books (as herself, not me!) We met Hazel and Cecilia, the unofficial presidents of this fan page, and the screening was quite something. Thank you San Francisco, from Hanan, Aida and me, for one brilliant night.