The Port Authority Building, (it’s shaped like a liner) seen from 14th Street & 9th Avenue
Like the most inexperienced of tourists, I forgot to check under my seat as we arrived at JFK last Sunday from the DR. Unfortunately that is where my camera was lurking, and American Airlines antediluvian Lost & Found process has so far failed to reunite us, even with flight & seat number. *A plague of a thousand lost umbrellas upon your house, AA*. So, I am reliant on my Blackberry Curve’s not bad at all camera for the time being, as I am uninsured and in no position to buy a new one.
Taking the A Train
The weather has been abysmal. Un-seasonally overcast, and pissing with rain almost every day, it was so cold on Monday night I resorted to wearing a cashmere sweater in bed. (This is highly unusual in NYC where every apt building pumps out heat like a furnace in winter.) I left nearly all of my winter clothes in England to be brought back in September, as it is always sunny & warm this time of year in Manhattan.
There has been the odd blast of weak sunshine: the day before I went to the DR was beautiful, & I shot these proud tulips outside The Plaza:
Desperate with longing for the LLG family menagerie, I have taken to accosting dachshunds – & their owners – in the street. I met this sweetheart across from The Plaza, and its long suffering owner let it pose for me.
Walking across Central Park helped lift me out of my malaise last week:
It’s hard to believe the softball pitches are a block from the street:
There’s no cooking equipment in my apartment right now, so this has not been a nutritionally sound week. There’s been these for lunch from my favourite Mexican street truck at 14th & 8th:
Utterly heavenly pizza al funghi at Serafina on the UES, (ahem, a Gossip Girl hangout), for supper with Jill on Saturday night. *Ooh that looks vast. I’ll just eat half & take the rest home.* Oops.
There has been this, twice. ($6 the lot):
Because, of course, I always feel like I am in the movies in New York when I eat Chinese food from cardboard pails with wire handles. (And it is always ‘Chinese food’ in America, rather just the bald ‘Chinese’ we use in England. And it is a take-out, not a takeaway.)
And every morning on the way to work in the drawing room at Soho House, I grab the $2 special from the corner bodega by the C train. Toting a deli coffee & a cream cheese bagel in a brown paper sack I know I really am in America: