NEW YORK
Usual seething humanity at Heathrow. Worrying moment when Clemmie says ‘Mummy these Americans are irritating the fuck out of me and we are still in the UK”. To be fair we were sitting next to over sized family with irritating children.
Flight uneventful except that I was sitting absolutely right next to one of the loos — in fact I could have kept one leg under my seat and still done my business. I did call the stewardess when it appeared that the same person had been in there for an hour and a half and I had watched a steady stream of passengers turn away with anguished faces and full bladders. Whilst the Virgin Atlantic stewardess prized open the door Clemmie averted her eyes whilst I was there to catch the dead body that fell out of the pressurised shoe box.
I have to confess that it was with something of a disappointment that there was no one in there — had a convict escaped out of a hidden hatch underneath the pixie sink and parachuted down on to the Atlantic and been picked up by speed boat? Note to self — too much time spent with character alluded to in first post. Faulty door which I then fully broke whilst yanking it shut. Moving on — theres a pun in there somewhere.
So JFK — flirty hottie at Customs — “can I climb into your luggage and you can take me with you”
“Honey if you can fit an After Eight in my bag you’d be lucky” I did actually contemplate buying another Samsonite to fit him in, perhaps I’ll meet his brother on the train anyway.
Our hotel is the perfect blend of the institutions featured in One flew over the Cuckoos Nest and The Shining. I must congratulate Trailfinders on their choice and recommendation. I woke up in the night and although we are on the 24th floor the room was shaking. I thought excitedly that I would be reporting an earth quake on day one. I dont know what it was -any ideas? Subway?
On our first day here the weather is shit hot which is nice but The City is very familiar to me and I can only assume that London in the 17 years since I have been here, has become Americanised rather than the other way round. People are fatter here and the streets, cant believe this, are a lot dirtier than London and there is a resulting whiff of decay along with the usual odour of humanity. I have yet to feel that I am really abroad — which is probably because I am such an urbanite.
However it is exciting and we have experienced great service and risibly fucking rude service in the hotel mainly. Off to The Frick now and the Guggenheim. We will walk for miles like tourists dodging the cars that seem to whizz over the zebra crossings even when its our time to cross. Damn and blast it I really am very English. I say with some hope in my heart but an increasingly murky understanding as to what the hell that means anymore.
