It was the end of the Summer of Love for Lizzy and J, and they emerged blinking into the golden autumn light to find that everything had changed.
The plants in her window boxes were brittle skeletons, his car, evidently feeling neglected, refused to start, the woman at her Vietnamese lunch truck didn’t recognize her or give her a free moistened towel-ette. He forgot his gym padlock combination. Continue reading
Jonathan does not believe in Micro Pigs.
I saw one a few weeks ago being carried in a Louis Vuitton by a fancy Park Avenue type lady, appropriately enough, on Park Avenue. He was beaming out at the world in that way that pigs do, all beady eyes and curly tail and downy pinkness. He was about the size of a smallish rabbit, and quite the most adorable thing I’d seen in ages. Continue reading
We’re experiencing something of an Indian summer in New York. After lugging my coat around with me all last week, I’ve decided to take my new beret (a brave fashion choice that I’m not entirely sure about yet) out of my handbag and to leave the umbrella at home (if it’s raining now you can blame me). Continue reading
Like something that only happens in the movies, Amazing Grace went out for dinner with the stranger she met one lunch time in Madison Square Park.
The restaurant terribly chic and terribly Chelsea – Grace calculated that they were the only straight couple there. It was the kind of place that serves market fresh seasonal specials from chalk boards and never needs to rub out the words “organic†or “corn fed†or “side of polentaâ€. Continue reading
Amazing Grace met a man in the park. Park Man turned out to have a name. His name was Alex. And he took her for a drink, made her laugh, complimented her new red jacket, and said he would call her. And actually did call her. And took her out for dinner, walked her home and kissed her at the door to her building. On the lips! Continue reading
Back in New York and back to Huge gossip.
Amazing Grace has met a promising man.
Following a tricky meeting about maximizing product placement in which Anita had been her usual bitch self, Grace had ignored the looks of her colleagues eating sandwiches with one hand and typing with the other, and had taken herself out to the park for five minutes for lunch. Sitting next to her on the bench, she couldn’t help noticing the man drinking something slurpy from Shakeshack and muttering into thin air like a lunatic, or, she supposed, into a Bluetooth. Continue reading
One thing that my London friends want to know about life in New York; is it true that people use their ovens for storage?
The answer is a resounding yes. The picture at the top of this blog is my kitchen – all of it. You’ll note the total absence of work-surface space and a general lack of storage. I keep plates in my oven, piling them up on the floor when I want to use said oven for cooking.
I have friends with longer term storage in mind. Continue reading
Godson Arthur turned seven this week and hosted a fantastic medieval themed party at the local scout hut attired in a sequined tabard with a shield, helmet and sword. One of his cousins came as a dragon.
Jon, looking over the photos later, remarked that they seemed very Gulliver’s Travels, with hoards of tiny knights pinning down various uncles, dads, cousins and Sarah’s boyfriend Matt who stands at least 6’2″, to the grass with plastic swords. Continue reading
Autumn has arrived. I can’t speak for Fall because I am currently in London on a visa run and have no idea what’s going on back in the Big Apple. Nevertheless, apples, big, and, well frankly, mostly small, have been playing a significant role in my week.
I’ve been visiting my grandparents up in Wigan, where their apple tree is bulging with more fruit than they know what to do with. This presents something of a problem. My grandma is arthritic and can’t bend to pick up the apples, my grandpa is blind and can’t see the apples. So he kneels on the grass and she tells him “left a bit, right a bit†until he has collected the harvest. Continue reading
Nick had intended to propose while standing on the viewing deck on top of the Eiffel tower at sunset. Secrecy was key. She had no idea.
He’d been paying attention to whether she preferred gold gold or white gold or rose gold and discovered that she in fact preferred platinum, then he’d spent many a long week trying to subtly discover which cut of diamond she might prefer, eventually taking her for a walk up Fifth Avenue hoping that he’d sense a vibe. It went better than he could have hoped for really. She’d pointed to one in Tiffanies and sighed dreamily something along the lines of that’s the perfect engagement ring. Who could say no to a ring like that! The ring was in his pocket. The lift was cranking up to the viewing deck, Paris spread out beneath him. This was it. Continue reading
