Page 64 to my delight I found all the passengers were helping to push it round ready for the journey up again. Yes, I like San Francisco. The reason we had come down to Fisherman's Wharf, apart from riding the cable cars, was to visit a famous store called COST PLUS where there are all sort of exotic imports at bargain prices. but Miriam, who was leading the way, slowed down and stopped and looked worried. I realised at once what was wrong, having seen this sort of thing on the newsreels. Men were walking up and down in front of the store carrying placards. We stopped in a group on the pavement, irresolute. "I've never crossed a picket line in my life," said Miriam, "but Madeleine coming all this way.:" "I'll tell you what," said Madeleine cheerfully, "we could go in and STEAL something" "Well, let's case the joint anyway," I said bilingually, so we went over to look at the windows. The first thing we saw was a big notice saying OUR EMPLOY- EES ARE NOT ON STRIKE. It went on to give a long involved explanation full of technical terms from American Labour relations, the gist of which was that the employees were getting what they wanted. Miriam was nonplused, so I suggested we go and see what the pickets had to say. We went over to the nearest one and, nodding to him politely studied his placard. He stopped walking and held it steady for us, averting his gaze as if he merely paused for a rest. Having digested his message we coughed apologetically to attract his attention and asked him about the notice in the window. Whereupon he launched into another equally involved explanation, the gist of which was that this employer couldn't be trusted and that they were picketing him until he kept his promises. After ten minutes or so of hearing evidence and cross examination we adjourned our little industrial court and, thanking the picket, retired further down the side- walk for consultation. Miriam and Jerry said whatever we decided would be fine by them. Madeleine said firmly that she'd just as soon not go in, and we all retired from the arena feeling quite happy at having struck a blow for down- trodden labour. Curiously this little episode made me feel even more at home in San Francisco. Up to now most of our hosts in America had been Republicans, who would regard our Conservative Party as a bunch of dangerous radicals. They were very nice people and I thought none the less of them for that. Of course I am very broad-minded about these things. I could even be prepared to make Republicanism legal between consenting adults. But it did feel good to be back among people who thought like Europeans and who you didn't have to be afraid of offending. So we happily wandered along the waterfront for a while looking at baby alligators and other strange things, including the little seahorses they offered to mail live anywhere for a dollar. I don't know what Her Majesty's Post Office would think of this...the only sea creature I've ever heard of them delivering by post is COD. Then we took the cable car again for another cheerful jangling ride back up into the city. Half way it stopped dead and stood there for some time without any apparent reason. Nobody seemed to be at all concerned. A passer- by called out something and the driver shouted "Coffee break at the power station;' and everybody laughed. It didn't seem the sort of thing that would happen in New York, or even London. I can't remember if we ever found out the reason for the stoppage--maybe it WAS the coffee break--but eventually we jangled off again, and hopped off in the middle of the city and went to collect the Volkswagen. We shot down the spiral ramp into the streets like a ball on a pintable, only to be caught in a huge traffic jam on the approaches to the Bay Bridge. While thus becalmed in a Sargasso Sea of cars I heard from Miriam and Jerry of the