It's a wonderful town

Just back from a great holiday in New York City with my mum and husband. Rob was on a course during which he got to meet the mayor, some disgruntled parents of a school about to be shut down in Harlem and lots of thrusting chief executive types, but Jackie and I were there strictly as tourists with a classic agenda – all the major buildings, landmarks and shopping we could pack into four days.

Here are my best bits:

Feeling full of hope on top of the Empire State Building the morning after the Obama win
On our first morning in New York and Obama’s first morning as President Elect, Mother and I headed out early to the Empire State Building. Not only was it amazing to get such a great view and literal perspective on where we were and what we might be able to see that week, it was also extra special feeling the city so full of hope and positivity.

OK and, to be honest, watching Sleepless in Seattle a million times over a million Christmasses together added to the excitement for the pair of us. Into the bargain, as we were so early and the town so empty (post marathon, post election, pre Christmas I guess), there was no queue at all. I did tire a little of my mum saying “I don’t remember Tom Hanks doing all this” as we snaked our way through the maze of empty queuing systems.


Feeling full of late night sandwiches with Robert in Sarges after seeing Gypsy on Broadway.
It was Friday night, we’d been out to see the musical Gypsy with the incredible Patti LuPone taking the lead, Rose; great music and story as ever – plus incredible orchestra and amazing acting from all the actors. And Robert was hungry.

Leaving Jackie in her room to a bag of Lays and a handful of Tanqueray miniatures (courtesy of very sweet BA steward, Shahid who discovered our trip was a birthday/Christmas treat), we changed into jeans and "sneakers" and headed out for eats from the city that never sleeps.

Sure enough within a matter of minutes we came across a great 24-hour Jewish deli/diner Sarges that served the most amazing sandwiches (the one pictured actually from breakfast there the next day) and fries and had the most charming staff I’ve ever come across in a restaurant at 12.45 am.

Being reminded of the futility of believing you can control anything on a rainy ferry back from the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island
This photo is part of a triptych. In the first, Jackie closed her eyes accidentally, in the second, Robert closed his eyes accidentally.

At this point I expressed my frustration with the pair of them in no uncertain terms. For the last time, I extended my arm, instructing them to concentrate, look in the camera and smile relaxedly like THEY WERE HAVING A GOOD TIME (italic caps = shouting through gritted teeth). You can see the resulting picture below.



My husband’s insistence on calmly and deliberately shutting his eyes expressly to frustrate me made me laugh with more tearful abandon than anything has done in a long time.

Enough personal soppy nonsense - back to work - and unfortunately not a time necessarily for the "best bits" final compilation.

City Slickers Back in the Saddle Again

City Slickers
Originally uploaded by LouBrown.

After Boris got in (maybe all those Facebook friends did mean something after all) I decided the only thing to do was leave this city and seek pastures new.

But after two weeks without email, blackberry, twitter, internet - just a little light texting and a horse called Pugsley - I'm back in London.

Snaps duly uploaded to Flickr and will gladly bore anyone with tales of beat poetry, gambling brides and desert sunsets.

British Holidaymaking

Much as I like people to mistake my inability to drive as an eco-stance, our decision to holiday yet again in the British isles could be seen as us doing our bit - carbon offsetting the rest of you bastards' jollying around the world.

The real reason for both our holiday habits and my lack of car mastery is being a bit rubbish and just not really getting round to it.

Devon it was then.

We had fun - we always do. Rob managed to get sunburnt and at least I didn't have the creeping deep vein thrombosis dread tainting my week as is usual after any flight longer than thirty minutes.

Unfortunately I forgot the camera, so didn't manage to capture some of the beautiful days we enjoyed on stunning coastal walks. But for those of you who may be considering your first British holiday in order to up your green credentials I have noted down a few things to give you an insight into the new experiences you will be opening yourself up to:

Old and mentally disabled people travelling in packs
Holidaying in the UK is actually very low stress - so low stress in fact, that you will find groups of oldies and special needs characters also enjoying your holiday with you. Absolutely nothing wrong with either of these groups but not something you'll necessarily have experienced on your last jaunt to Marrakesh. After getting trapped between two groups of mentally disabled adults in Woolacombe I did worry we might get split up and submerged into the groups never to be heard of again (they looked like they were having a lot of fun).

The fifty/fifty chance on whether the food's any good
I am talking about smallish restaurants or hotel dining fayre in resort towns and villages. In France, you probably have only about a ten per cent chance that the food will be bad, Spain maybe creeps up to a twenty five per cent chance it won't be up to scratch, with Germany creeping up to around thirty five - forty per cent. In Britain you get the added excitement of it being as high as fifty/fifty whether the food will be edible. I have known places to make even crumble disgusting (salty and smelling of sick if you're wondering).

People holidaying like it's 1959*
Yes, they still have those stripey wind break things that they plant on the beach and huddle behind, drink tea out of thermoses whilst sitting in their cars, sit down to eat fish and chips in a restaurant that has a formica table top and still wear headscarves over stiff, coiffed hair.

*A prize to the person who guesses correctly which one of these activities I indulged in during my own British holiday.

One Cold Pontiff and Three Warm Old Ladies

As well as working on and at the fringes of various exciting projects, interspersed with whines about my lack of time (Balls It's F*cking Friday, I say) and my lack of broadband at home (dull poor customer experience post may be with you soon), I have managed to squeeze in a long weekend in Rome since I last wrote.

Without the time and materials, I have failed to get some nice pics onto Flickr, or my video of the inside of the Pantheon onto Youtube as planned, but here are some highlights to be getting on with:

1. The emotional intensity of seeing St Peters and the Pope
   We saw Benedict XVI speaking to the crowd on Sunday, and whilst a lapsed Catholic it did seem pretty astounding (and to be fair, my travelling companion Tracy is Jewish and she was pretty impressed too).
   
   I was also moved wondering whether religious members of my family had ever been to Rome or seen a Pope speak, and was pleased/relieved to find out from Mother Brown that my nan had actually been to Rome although the pope she saw was nicer, the current one "not being what I call a warm pope" on Mother's popeometer. (Incidentally, have only just realised where the word pontificate comes from.)
   
   St Peters as a whole is awe-inspiring due to the beauty of its sculpture, art and architecture, humbling for the piety of some of the characters in the building past and present, but ultimately for me a little nauseating for the amount of decoration, ostentation and glamour.
   
   
2. Food
   Includes: spaghetti cacio e pepe (goats cheese and black pepper); fig and walnut ice cream; deep-fried artichokes Roman-Jewish style; squid in a spicy tomato sauce; fritto misto (Italian tempura); coffee; sesame and honey ice cream; some sort of delicious tuna thing; linguine with lemon and sea bass.
   
   My favourite of all was a dense almondy cake rich with dry fruit and fresh from an oven from an unmarked bakery we'd been tipped off about by the Time Out guide. We nearly gave up on the place until I spotted two old dears feverishly scratching at the paper bag containing whatever they'd just bought - which I found out was this heavenly stuff. Now known by me as "old lady crack", if anyone can hazard a guess at what it's actually called, I'd love to find out. It tasted Christmassy and had lots of whole almonds in it as well.
   
   
3. The Pride of Romans in their City
   We paused for a few moments in a (by Roman standards) non-descript piazza to admire the intense blue sky against the amber rooftops, and a little old lady walking across the square strode past us beaming and waving her hands in our direction, saying something along the lines of "Bella! It is beautiful, Rome, yes?" I'm not convinced it would happen in another city.

Wish me luck getting Tiscali to get our broadband up and running, I need my virtual life back.

Good for me

When I explained to someone that I had spent my two weeks off pottering around our flat, and staying for a few days each in the Cotswolds and Devon, their response was the limp "Good for you". Faint and damning maybe but also correct - it was good for me.

During the first couple of days, still buzzing with surges of stress-related adrenalin, I ended up transferring all work energy and anxiety into bizarre creative personal projects including the pointless ambition of the development of a new literary form - the cross-genre review mashup.

This was inspired by a conversation I had with some colleagues where, possibly through the medium of wine, we seamlessly moved between chatting about the amazing online game/experience/community/world Second Life and a book I'd started to read, Michel Houellebecq's The Possibility of an Island. Before I embarked on my ambitious plan, which I may attempt at a later date if the idea isn't manic nonsense, real life got a hold of me and my virtual creativity occupied less and less of my headspace.

I confess, even when real life did kick in, my boyfriend and I still couldn't shake work ways. On Day 3, we sat gazing at the view from Parliament Hill, the remains of a picnic in front of us, then proceeded to fill out coloured pieces of paper with "what we want to achieve during the rest of the holiday" - one idea per piece of paper, all ideas are valid - and then prioritised our list by scoring for urgency, impact and ease on a criteria grid. And before anyone anonymously comments "you are sad" - yes I know, that's the point of confessing this.

So what did we achieve? In descending order: 6 nights away from home in a good hotel and with family; 5 ok books read (between us); 4 mostly terrible films watched; 3 great walks (5 miles +); 2 good plays seen; and 1 great meal out.

We might not have purchased a sofa, gone to the chiropodist or plastered the ceiling in the spare room, but I think we prioritised ruthlessly and effectively.