A few years ago my friend Hector, famous for his hospitality, invited Jon and I to join him on a rug at the Blenheim Horse Trials. This is not something we usually do. Questions flooded into our minds; what is a horse trial, for example? Continue reading
Heavily into picnic mode, Jon and I went for a walk on the High Line – not some kind of strange circus stunt, but rather a modern park elevated on disused railway tracks above the city, meandering through the buildings from Chelsea Market to 30th street.
It was there that we met Steve.
New York is a city with a lot of inhabitants. Really. A lot. So the chances of running into anybody by accident should be fairly slim. And yet it happens. All the time. So there we were, picnic bag in hand, and there was Steve. And there was Steve’s date. His first date. Which is not the best time to run into friends. Continue reading
It has been said that all you need for a really great picnic is a baguette, a ripe brie, a bunch of grapes and a bottle of wine.
But why would you want to stop there? Continue reading
Sara is officially Dating – not dating any one particular guy, but just generally dating.
“Whoever I like, whatever fits in with my schedule. Not just one person. Not necessarily looking for Mr Right – clearly, not kicking him to the kerb if I find him, but just having some fun.”
This is something that she has never done before. Why not?
“Damn Unitarian upbringing.†Continue reading
“The best cocktail I ever had†sighed Yosi, “was a Vesper.â€
We were into day two of our Malaysian restaurant week celebrations, which started with dinner at Laut and had moved into lunch at Fatty Crab. Naturally, given the hedonistic circumstances, thoughts had turned to alcohol, and whether our afternoons at work would facilitate us getting away with it. Continue reading
I had high hopes for the peas. They started out so strong. Thrusting their way out of the seedling planter on the window sill, then, newly transferred onto the balcony, twining seductively around their stakes (ok, chopsticks) and eventually caressing the climbing frame, and unfurling delicate white flowers. It was all going so well. There was even a pod.
Jon and I shared our first home-grown peas, three for him, three for me, bright and fresh – the very taste of green.
And then the peas died. Continue reading
Even in a city like New York, populated by people who Pilate as enthusiastically as they experiment with juice cleanses and whey proteins, there are some foods that seem to defy resistance.
One of these is frosting. The other is steak.
And to generalize along gender lines, frosting is kryptonite to my girlfriends, while I never yet met a man who would say no to a steak sandwich. Continue reading
“It was in the middle of yoga when I started to notice the guy next to me,†said my friend Sara as we sat in Washington Square Park watching grown men who ought to have known better playing some kind of competitive sport involving flicking small bean bags from foot to foot in time to rap beats.
“We were doing the downward dog, which is a pretty stable kinda position and he was swaying from side to side. So then I started to pay attention to him, and he saw me looking at him and the next time we were back in downward dog he leans over even more and starts to whisper to me.â€
This is not usual yoga etiquette, especially in New York, a city where it’s acceptable to commute ten stops on the subway with your head pressed under someone’s arm pit as long as neither of you makes eye contact. Continue reading
I just came home from Kim’s lovely Bridal shower hosted by Hilary with panache, Niscoise salad, ice-cream bomb, chocolate brittle and homemade charcuterie.
It confirmed what I had been gradually piecing together; here in America, a Bridal Shower is emphatically not the same as a Hen Party.
The first Bridal Shower I ever went to was for my friend Alexa. It was hosted by her mom and aunt in the restaurant of an upscale hotel, and it was as dainty as all get up, with Caesar salads and champagne and games and the opening of shower gifts that were mostly wrapped in white paper and adorned with ribbons and bows.
I did not know about the shower gifts. Continue reading
I have recently been introduced to the heady mixture of drama, romance, hopefulness and sheer desperation that is the missed connections section of the Craigslist website.
This week, one of my favorites:
To Women of New York
Thank you. For being so amazingly beautiful. Whether you were born here, elsewhere, just visiting, only work here, whatever. You still count. I take my position in Union Square park & on a daily basis am blown away with how fortunate I am to be around such perfection.
Anonymous Union Square Park bench-sitter, you’re welcome. I do my best. Continue reading
