Twelve hours later and, thanks to the International Date Line, I'm back where I started. Monday the 29th of January. Just in time for lunch with Marti in Santa Monica.
Marti: So, tell me Dickie, whereabouts in England are you living?
Me: In a beautiful English coastal town called Ramsgate, about 90 minutes from London. I tell you, Marti old chap...
Marti: Yeah, Margate, I heard of that. Hasn't Cher got a place there?
Me: Yes, yes, I think she has been spotted there, but I tell you, Ramsgate is...
Marti: And I worked with a guy called Ray Winstone recently, did you see The Departed? He just wouldn't stop going on about Margate, and something you guys eat called jellied eels?
Me: Yes, er, yes, Ray is a bit of a fan, but getting back to Ramsgate...
Marti: You know, Ray's one hell of an actor. The first time we met for lunch, he blew me right away.
Me: Well, um, Marti, er, I think I'd have to get to know you a bit better first, or at least go and brush my teeth.
Another one bites the dust, methinks.