It could have been any time since the 1930s, just as Raymond Chandler described it- minus a few thousand cars and a smattering of modern hotels- people’s attire alone indicating the passage of time. The surprise escarpment down to the beach concealing Highway One and the line of grand old houses- and the parking lot.
They say American breakfasts are an experience not to be missed. Somehow in one day, travelling to the USA, I managed to have five breakfasts. Here’s how it happened. Breakfast one. 5.30 a.m. In the Qantas Lounge at Adelaide airport (tomato juice, one slice of toast with cheese and ham). Breakfast two. Served on the