And it’s a wonder I got here at all. The lovely little redbrick hostel I stayed in in New York was on West 31st St, just on the corner of 5th Avenue. So when I trundled my bag and belongings across the street to the hotel which was the pickup point for the airport shuttle, I couldn’t help but notice the crowds lining 5th Ave, three, four, five deep on the pavement.
And the noise, music, roaring from that direction. How on earth is the shuttle going to get through? was my main thought. I shared my thought inside the hotel with the concierge (who had sold me the ticket for this 45-minute trip) and she unsmilingly said it was a gay pride parade and yes, the shuttle was unable to cut across. We may have to walk to Broadway and get picked up there. She’d let us know.
I was a little uneasy at this point, as a text from Linda when she left New York had mentioned that the shuttle had taken a LOT longer than 45 minutes to get to JFK. An Italian woman, waiting with her parents, was also getting nervy and worrying about missing their flight. The concierge was less than helpful, and half an hour after we should have been picked up she finally ‘shared’ with us that we had to wait till the shuttle driver phoned back – and when he did, it was to say he was on the other side of 5th Avenue and couldn’t get across to us. Surprise. Could we carry our bags over to him? Not likely! The crowds were thick on either side and the procession wasn’t going to stop for a group of stragglers bound for JFK. So we insisted that the concierge find us a taxi – and pay for it. She was extremely offhand, walked off, didn’t keep us in the loop until I complained to the hotel manager. So finally, 45 minutes after we should have left, the Italian family and I walked with the unsmiling concierge to 8th Avenue before finding a taxi, which then took 1.5 hours to get to JFK. But a heroic Americo/Bangladeshi driver with a few sneaky shortcuts up his sleeve! I hope the Italians made it… I did, with less than an hour to spare.
And so here I am, back in the UK, spending a few days with Victoria and just chilling! We did a lot of slouching around – well, I did, and she kept me company. Starting with the airport terminal, where we sat for a couple of hours just drinking coffee and catching up before getting the Tube into London.
So what did we do? Well, we wandered the streets near her flat in South Kensington, found an Italian restaurant somewhere near King’s Road on the first evening. The next day she went to work, giving me a chance to sleep all day and get over jet lag and the exhaustion which has been creeping up on me lately. Then we had a couple of days together, visited Harrods, explored the area around Brompton Oratory,
full of little parks and mews and strangely eccentric people who we stopped 
and talked to about all manner of things, and who maybe told us more than they ought to have about people in their circle of friends. We learnt a little about some of the houses changing hands in the area, how much for, and who was in jail etc. Interesting. Discovered a few more restaurants, including Salieri’s which has the best after-theatre omelettes, took a look at the newly tarted-up Savoy just across the road from Salieri’s, but didn’t go in.
And of course, went to the theatre: The Merchants of Bollywood! Which was riotous, full of colour and energy and a lot of fun. One evening, we also had a lovely curry – how I’ve missed British curries! Best in the world outside India; nowhere else compares. And of course, the bookshop. Can’t remember the name of it, but it’s near Victoria’s flat/Old Brompton Road and I can’t go in without buying something.
On my last day, we took off with all my luggage on the bus to Victoria, where I caught the Megabus to Cardiff. Just a few hours later and I was back in Barry, home again after four months in Australia, Europe, Russia, Siberia, Mongolia, China, Alaska, Canada and the USA. I wander down to Pebble Beach, with a folding chair 
that I have bought to replace the one I got in North America and which I gave away at Sleepy Hollow, and I gaze across the water at Somerset and watch the boats and ships, and the planes coming in to land at Rhoose. I’ve seen some stunning places, met many interesting and amazing people, tasted some great food (and some revolting), travelled on a variety of quirky trains, buses and ships, and been bitten mercilessly by foreign insects.
Now it’s time to catch up with friends, open my mail, wash every bit of clothing I’ve lived in for all these months, and enjoy being back in one of the most beautiful spots in the UK.
How fortunate am I!
Patamateria 