My very own Baywatch

Flew into LA bright and early yesterday morning with SoyBoy. We are staying at SoyBoy's friend's house. The friend is a Lifeguard (to be more precise - a hot lifeguard) and I've already imagined some naughtiness; virtual sex is not straying as far as I know. In fact it's probably quite healthy. Good to know my hormones are active.

Hot Lifeguard's house is in Santa Monica, with direct access to the beach. From my bedroom window, whilst I'm lying in bed with my dirty thoughts of Hot Lifeguard and SoyBoy sleeping innocently beside me I can see the ocean and am feeling very happy.

The beach house worth squillions of dollars for its prime location exudes a charming casual quality, reminding me (if I shut my eyes really tightly) of my parents house in the bush. Only difference being in the type of drop-ins it welcomes. Coffs Harbour beach house - local nobodies; Santa Monica beach house - more hot Lifeguards, Hollywood wheelers and dealers, vacant but gorgeous models, celebs of varying success and the less-thought-of staff of world style-setters, but no less important.

Example A - Beach house is about to be rented for one week by Miuicci Prada's China Carrier (that is her official title) - for rest and recovery purposes, for the tidy sum of $30,000. It's hard work directing minions in Milan to wrap individual knives stamped with the Prada insignia for a private dinner for 12 in Los Angeles (Brat Pitt and Ben Stiller have accepted and will be scraping the bottom of; very excruciating experience, and no doubt holding their cutlery incorrectly - so American; in the company of Miuccia to celebrate the opening of her new LA store).

So I spent my first afternoon lazing by the pool, gazing out over the Pacific and at the motley (but hot - have I mentioned that) crew of Lifeguards who came in and out of the garden with surf boards tucked under their bulging bronzed biceps. Loving this holiday.

Early evening I went to a yoga class with SoyBoy's sister who at the end of the class burst into tears - apparently is was "just sooooo intense dude". Not sure about the tears. I wanted to burst into laughter when we were "panting like a tiger". I guess this is LA.

Then we partied with the hot Lifeguards. This may not be the most stimulating intellectually, but hey who needs Proust when you've got this much testosterone offering free surfing lessons. SoyBoy's not exactly wimpy but compared with the Adonis troupe I think some shutting of the eyes and reverting to past sexual proclivities;lying back and thinking of Britain during sexual liaisons with SoyBoy may be in order; or perhaps I can start "panting like a tiger".