New York State of Mind

I can't let it pass without mentioning on here that last month (already, 'last month') I was in New York. Finally made it. There's really too much to say, so I won't say much, and give you a few photos, of memorable places. The view down Manhattan from the 'Top of the Rock' was simply stunning, but the Empire State Building was the most impressive, all beautiful Art Deco. Took much longer to get to the top than I'd expected, you don't just get in a lift, you have to go up escalators, have your photo taken, go through security (understandable). I don't remember Meg Ryan doing that in Sleepless in Seattle!

So much of NYC is like being on a film set - because you've seen so much of it in movies. Central Park, The Lincoln Center, Times Square, the bridges, the brownstone buildings. Fire escapes that are just waiting for Tony and Maria from West Side Story... You're constantly craning your neck to look upwards. Yellow cabs, Avenues and streets, getting the hang of the grid system until you get into the Village and it all falls apart. Chinatown, Little Italy, distinct neighbourhoods, yet changing over the years. Fascinating stories of how different nationalities of immigrants settled in particular areas.

Times Square: so bright at night that you almost need sunglasses. Lights, theatres, bars. Yet it felt familiar, not strange at all. There's so much to see and do that we barely scratched the surface. We saw all the main sights that we wanted to, we saw a show, we drank cocktails in a revolving restaurant high above Times Square.

Next time, I can take it all at a more leisurely pace.

Travels with my iPhone

I admit it, I am in danger of becoming an iPhone bore. I’m told it happens to us all.

After about 3 days of wanting to chuck it at the wall, as I could neither download or text, and the most useful thing I’d discovered was how to find out what the weather was in Luxor, I started to get the hang of it. Setting up an iTunes account helped*.

I’m thinking it’s going to be most useful when I’m out and about. I’m not interested in the many games Apps, but there are some wonderfully geeky mapping Apps, and I’m nothing if not a map geek.

I got to test it out on Thursday when I had to go to Manchester with our Finance Director for a meeting. He had a paper map, but it wasn’t that good, so I tapped the post code of the place we were going into the iPhone. It didn’t just show us the route, but also show us walking along it as a little blue dot. We were like a couple of children, giddy with excitement (I know, it doesn’t take much)! Coming home, I was able to find the times of the next trains to York (ok, I missed the first of them, but that was because I don’t do running).

Then yesterday we were having a shopping day in Liverpool, and wanted coffee. I was standing in Debenhams and searched for coffee shops. The nearest one was actually one I’d been to last summer, Rococo, and wanted to visit again. It's a bit like a tart's boudoir, and a welcome change to Starbucks or Costa

Mind, I also discovered that this same App shows you where the nearest places of interest are to where you’re standing, and gives you the history of them. I find this fascinating. My colleagues just rolled their eyes and groaned.

I am going to enjoy this!

*Yes, I know this is the basic thing, but I didn't have one, and hadn't set it up right at first.

Holiday Snapshots

One

Our tour guide, Luke, of Crazy Guides, arrives to take us to Nowa Huta in the ‘Trabby’. It’s pale blue. It’s also made of fibre glass, and pretty old. When I get in, the interior reminds me of the first car we ever had. It has seat belts, but he advises us not to wear them! It has very few controls. There’s a sort of bar on the dashboard that I hang on to. The gear lever is also on the dashboard, and looks complicated. The car smells heavily of fumes, and apparently you have to add oil to the petrol before driving. It has a manual choke, which brings back lots of memories of learning to drive and inadvertently flooding the engine!

Later Luke shows us the engine. There isn’t a lot to it. I think he realised when he was referring to the horsepower of the car, and I had absolutely no idea how it compared to my car, that he was speaking to the uninformed! ‘Not much to go wrong’ we comment, however Cat spots that the engine is worryingly close to the petrol tank!

It rattles a lot as we move through the traffic, and especially when we pick up speed. Apparently he can make it go quite fast, and can even take corners on three wheels. I’m quite glad he doesn’t attempt it with us in the car.

When we arrive in Nowa Huta, he just mounts the kerb to park the Trabby. ‘We don’t bother to lock it, no one is going to steal it!’ On the return journey, I sit in the back, and find myself almost banging my head on the roof as we go over any bumps.

Two

We eventually find the minibus that will take us to the salt mine. It’s already full, and there are no seats left. The driver nods at us when we ask if we can get on. We have to stand, but the journey’s 'only 20 minutes'. He lets other people on after us, and it begins to be a bit of a crush. There are so many nationalities; someone comments it’s like the United Nations on a bus!

We set off. It’s pretty packed, but we keep stopping and the driver lets more people get on. We begin to wonder if someone is actually sitting on the driver’s knee. The windows steam up, so much so that we can’t really see out, though I am at least getting a little air from the sun roof above my head.

Eventually someone gets off (a struggle, but they manage) and Cat gets a seat. The guy next to her is listening to the ‘Wake Up to Wogan’ podcast. Things are getting more surreal by the minute. Only the Brits are discussing the journey. I'm thinking it's that Dunkirk spirit starting to come out!

We turn off the main road. It can’t be far now. The road gets progressively worse, and is full of potholes. At one point my feet actually leave the floor as we go over a bump, and Cat leaves her seat. It’s starting to feel like some form of torture for tourists!

Eventually, after about 35 minutes, (it seems longer), we arrive. When the bus stops, for a few moments, no one moves, not quite believing that we’ve arrived. I think none of us are sure how to extricate ourselves without tumbling into a heap.

The return journey seems like an anti-climax, as it takes about 20 minutes, and everyone gets a seat!

Incommunicado

I did it again! I was on the A1 heading south on Monday morning, when I realised that the mobile phone was still on the bed. I was facing nearly 4 days without a phone!

It was quite a scary prospect. It's bizarre how, having lived most of my life without a mobile, it now feels essential. But then, it isn't just a phone, is it? It's a calendar, an alarm clock (I was worried I wouldn't wake on time, and would be late for meetings), a calculator, a camera (not that I was going to need that at work), and a way of accessing the internet.

I really felt quite lost without it, particularly when plans changed, and I discovered that it is really difficult to find a pay phone these days - in fact in many places they're non-existant. Phones just aren't provided in budget hotel rooms either, as everyone has their own.

As it turned out, I was able to come home last night. I got back to find it where I left it. I thought there'd be quite a few missed calls and some texts. I picked it up. Just two missed calls, both from unknown numbers.

I'd never felt so popular!

Over indulgence

I’m on my second glass of wine when the tiredness hits me. I’m on my way home, and it’s been intense. 10 shows in two days at the Edinburgh Fringe, and we still had time to eat, and shop. But now, I’m shattered.

As the train travels very slowly towards York, I’m too tired to even think about what I’ve seen. The time to assimilate it all will come later. At the moment, I’m in a happy haze of cultural overload. I sit and doze, and random images from things I’ve seen, and phrases I’ve heard run through my mind. As I disembark at the station, I drag my case behind me. It bumps noisily down the steps as I can’t be bothered to pick it up. I murmur an incoherent farewell to two of my fellow culture vultures, and stumble into a taxi.

Home brings reality, post lies on the mat, and the cats are demanding food. Lovely as it is to be home, I want to remain in the world where I can live like this for more than just a couple of days in August.

What a difference a week makes

Last week I was in a beautiful country house hotel. It’s a life I could get used to. This week I’m in the Express by Holiday Inn in a less than salubrious area of Stevenage. If there is a salubrious area, I have yet to find it. I tell myself that it’s the times like this that pay for the ‘Kilworths’ in my life.

The first difference I notice is the coat hangers. Kilworth had proper coat hangers, not those without hooks so you can’t pinch them. And the tea and coffee cups were Royal Worcester. It’s the little things that matter you see. And I didn’t have to leave my car in Matalan’s car park!

Travels

Last week

Sunday: Middlesbrough to York to Milton Keynes

Monday: Milton Keynes to Hertford to Stevenage

Tuesday: Stevenage to St Albans to York

Wednesday: York to Stockport to Liverpool to York

Thursday: York (phew!)

Friday: York to Liverpool to York

Saturday: York to Middlesbrough

Over a thousand miles driven. An awful lot of hours on motorways. No wonder I’m knackered!

Travels without a mobile phone

I was driving past Leicester Forest East Services when I realised. I may be halfway down the M1, but my mobile phone was still attached to the charger in the kitchen!

It’s amazing how vulnerable that immediately made me feel. We’ve become so dependant on mobiles, that you never think anymore about how to contact someone if you don’t have one. Worse, I don’t even remember phone numbers, as they’re all programmed into the phone by name.

So, I was faced with a couple of days away, which were already logistically complicated, without any immediate means of contacting people. The first challenge came when I had to find my hotel that evening. Luckily the directions were pretty good, and I found it quite easily (I’m someone who, as yet, doesn’t have satnav)

The following morning, I had to get from my hotel to my meeting place. It was only across town, and I had directions. It should take around 20 minutes. 45 minutes later I knew the main roads of St Albans better than I felt I needed to, but was still totally lost. If I’d had the phone, I’d have called about half an hour ago, and asked for new directions. As it was, I couldn’t even think where you would find a public phone these days. In the end I had to go to the one road I knew, and follow that in. I eventually arrived to find that the directions I’d been given were wrong anyway!

At the end of the day, I was going to London, and getting the train. PAF* was meeting me at Moorgate station, and I’d given her a time, so I had to get a particular train, as again, no way to contact her. At least this time I had an address if all else failed. As it turned out, after much stress, I caught my intended train, and we met up ok.

The following morning, after an early journey out from London, I made it back to St Albans. I still couldn’t find the direct route, but this time I knew where to head for.

Finally, by one o’clock, I was heading home. What a relief to be going north on the M1, and back to home, and the phone.

*Professional actress friend