Mrs. T and I are in the process of driving down California’s Highway 1 from San Francisco to San Diego, seeing shows along the way. Yesterday we stopped at Ragged Point Inn, which is south of Big Sur and not far from the Hearst Castle, to give me time to write and file a piece for The Wall Street Journal. I doubt there’s a more beautiful drive in America, or a more beautiful spot than Ragged Point.
Would that I could spend all my time here gazing at the sea, but as James Bond says to Vesper Lynd in Casino Royale, “If it wasn’t for the job, we wouldn’t be here,” and I’ve never been one to shirk my journalistic duty, so I’ll be spending a chunk of today writing about Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau for Friday’s “Sightings” column.
Tomorrow we resume our travels, about which more in due course. Until then, we’re more or less incommunicado–our cell phones don’t work up here and the wi-fi at the inn is agonizingly slow–so if you want anything, get back to us on Tuesday night.
In the meantime, I hope that wherever you are is at least a quarter as pretty as where we are.