Drinks with Dylan.

5th Avenue is alive with Christmas shoppers. We join the crowds and head uptown after a NY breakfast of eggs, bacon and home fries. Passing through Macy’s (which takes a couple of hours) we join the throng of people moving from store to store. All the names are here and we make it is as far as Abercrombie & Fitch, where they play music so loud you feel more like you are in a night club than a shop. It’s dark, thumping, hot and sweaty with frantic shoppers desperate to buy a piece of Americana. I think I prefer John Lewis.
Dinner that night is back at the White Horse which is becoming a bit of a local. Madame Vin has researched the bar and found out that this was the place that Dylan Thomas drank himself to death. It seems to have had a rich and colourful past and though now nothing more than a good local it still feels as if some of its liberal disestablishment past is written into the walls.

Whooooosh!

That was the sound of Christmas and the New Year celebrations flying past without the common decency to stay around long enough to be fully appreciated.

We spent Christmas just the two of us. Lady H was persuaded to stay in bed until a reasonable hour before tearing into her presents. I must admit that this year we seemed to have done very well on the old present and card front, though we are somewhat closer to the action this year. It's also nice to be somewhere that you get, if not a white Christmas, then at least a coldish one. I always thought that Santa and his all his little helpers looked somewhat out of place and were probably drenched in sweat in New Zealand and Australia. They must have real problems trying to persuade the old fat man down the road to don the red hat and beard when all he really wanted to do was join the others for a barbecue.

New Years was a little slow due mainly to the previously mentioned cold weather. We had planned, along with visiting Mater and Peter to join the swell of crowds that throng Prince's Street for the Scottish Hogmany (nothing to do with roast pork I was quite disappointed to find out). But, the winds got up and the whole thing had to be cancelled at the last minute.

Still gambling and drinking in a warm flat is better than nothing.

I was hoping to bring photos of the events but obviously there are none so you will have to make do with a photo from the start of Hogmany and the burning of a wicker man. We arrived a little late so I don't know whether any live sacrifices were made this year, though there was a distinct smell of bacon in the air.

Ohhs and Ahhs.

Van the Man visited on Thursday, having business in the capital the following day, so spending time in a few bars the night before seemed a good idea at the time. The feelings of pain and suffering and the smiting of many brain cells the next day, led me to rethink this 'good' idea. But it seems I am not alone as the streets are filled with wall to wall vomiting as staff Christmas parties get out of hand and normally nice and decent human being take to wearing flashing antlers and pointed red hats.

Lady Helen is getting more excited by the day and has to be shooed away from the small pile of presents with a thick stick and the threat of removal of her chocolate ration. She insisted the tree went up yesterday so after an exhausting trek around town the tree was de-boxed and yours truly had to make all the expected 'oohs and ahhs' as Lady Helen stood back to admire her handiwork.

Started work on a small piece for a competition this week which I hope to finish over the Xmas week. Assuming it doesn't win anything I'll post it here in the new year.

Website of the week: (courtesy of Otralala)
DIE-CAST Films