What really happened on Hogmany

We caught the number 47 bus to Fisherman's Wharf. Public transport is free tonight so we keep our money and move on up the bus. An old black guy with a huge afro was reclining along the seats talking to himself and winking at me with his one good eye. It was total pandamonium - everyone talking over each other, reciting monologues and calling out Happy New Years!

I'd been banging on about Dungeness Crabs since Vegas so when we spotted the Crab House we knew it was for us. Table for two? Come right in. Excellent, Shinster was up for sampling some crab so we ordered enough for two and a bottle of red wine.

"Och!" Sinead exclaims, "Does it not come prepared for you? I don't know about this Lis. It looks like too much hard work."

Just at that the couple at the next table - whom Shin had reliably informed me via an earlier cross-table whisper were "brits' - asked us if we were Scottish. We get chatting about our trip, their trip, old films, politics. At some point, I mention the Poll Tax (c'mon Lis, it's Hogmany and you're in San Francisco lighten up!). I can't quite remember how it happened but we end up joining them at their table and order mojitos.

They met through Friends Reunited after having gone out at school, split up, spent 25 years married to other people. Tina tells me she found him on the site and he'd written "any old mates, get in touch." She thought "I've mated with him. I'll get in touch." And here they are - together - married - and getting loused on cocktails with us.

We all run out to the pier to watch the fireworks at midnight and then onto the Sheraton for margaritas. Whilst washing my hands in the restroom, I notice they have turned a funny colour. Very, very red. Like they've been scalded. My arms still normal so this proves there's something wrong. Then I see my face in the mirror - argh! Totally pink but with white eyelids - weird. My neck and chest are all pink and blotchy too. I head back to the table to start to tell Sinead but she interrupts with "Lisa, ha ha ha, check your face. Ha ha ha."

David, obviously feeling sorry and embarrassed for me, tries to change the subject but Shin's all ready with the camera. I do my best 'aggrieved Daily Record reader' pose and the moment is captured.

The next thing I remember is waiting for a taxi, then running up the street and clambering into a taxi. I wasn't feeling all that well (on account of the allergic reaction no doubt) so I'd gone into silent mode. David and Tina are in the taxi with us and Shin is leaning forward to tell the driver where to take us. We're staying at a hotel on Van Ness Avenue. I could hear Sinead shouting Von Ness, Loch Ness, Loch Ness Monster. Inside I'm laughing but can't risk it out loud. The streets of San Francisco are not kind to someone feeling rather delicate in the back of a taxi - especially not when the driver is intent on recreating scenes from Bullit.

I wake up the next morning feeling a little worse for wear but getting battered by the wind going over the Golden Gate Bridge on an open top bus is surprisingly helpful.

Sinead would probably mention something about my throwing up into a plastic party hat whilst crossing the road, but that would be artistic license.