There must be a genetic explanation for the Harrison (that’s my mother’s side of the family) diaspora. After all, a great grandfather was a ship’s captain and accidental explorer. That diaspora now includes cousins in Australia, Africa and America. This afternoon, we set off to Oakland to meet up with my cousin, Richard, and wife, Wendy, and their two boys, Aidan and Brendan, who live in Oakland. Even better, one of his London-based sisters, Liz, was staying with him, so it was something of a family reunion. Richard, a good amateur cook, treated us to a wonderful traditional American barbecue, with burgers and corn on the cob and home made bread and a delicious home made tart. It was a wonderful and delicious way to bring our Grand Tour to a close. Part of our conversation was about Oaklanders’ constant fear of an earthquake, but that subject will wait for my next post. Afterwards, the BART whisked us back across the Bay and our cable cars from Powell Street and up California Street were on time. Absurdly, given the few days we have spent here, we already have the feeling that we have become familiar and at home with beautiful San Francisco.