Monthly Archives: April 2014

First We’ll Take Manhattan…

MinionsManhattan.

We made it. Thanks to a tribunal payout, I treated The Teenager to five days in Manhattan, a city I used to love and live in.

He was overwhelmed. The view from our hotel room, the vast array of fast food outlets (natch), the endless shopping for t-shirts, the atmosphere. It was a film set come true.

We sailed around Manhattan, circumnavigated the Statue of Liberty, saw the whole city from the top of the Empire State building, wandered the streets, peered in windows. We chatted to NYPD cops. To Starbucks employees, bar staff, random Minions (see photo),

For me, New York reignited my love of life. Life and energy were  everywhere. I spoke to a mother and daughter from North Carolina, putting in place a bucket wish list. I spoke to Irish bar-tenders who had moved there and lost everything in the storm but were still trucking on, plus he makes the best martinis that side of the Atlantic (The Hyatt, off Times Square).

Anyway, yes, New York was a breath of fresh air. After over two years pretty much house bound through job loss and loneliness, I realised that life goes on. And on. It happens whether I like it or not. I have been a bit of a hermit. So here’s what I will take home with me:

  • Life is waaaaaay bigger than my little world.
  • I can wear what I like, when I like. Even if I am fat ( I know, I know).
  • There is a whole world out there, ready to explore.
  • MS may curtail stuff, but stuff it.

Fair play, MS reared its ugly head. And then some. I was in Macey’s and felt the earth move (really).

After panicking and looking around me I finally got the picture. It was me. I was on the top floor. But, hey, I had a brand new Ralph Lauren trench coat. MS be damned. I went back to the hotel and admired my beautiful coat before conking out for three hours…..

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Ready Or Not…

Noo YoikO to the M to the G.

We are getting ready for New York. Manhattan. A Times Square hotel. Bonkers.

A year ago, it seemed a suitable use of my paltry tribunal payout (minus legal fees). Nothing could make up for the year of bullying and intimidation I went through, but this would surely make amends to The Teenager – ‘…..um, (sniff) just give me a minute……(wail)…..(meh)….’ He put up with a lot.

So here we are. I have two suitcases wide open. In mine – pyjamas, earplugs, moisturiser, face pack, shower gel, trainers, pen, notebook, clothes (natch), headphones, challenging novel, bubble bath, wet wipes, more wet wipes, NY guide book….

In The Teenager’s – shampoo, Lynx, SPACE for Tootsie Rolls he plans on buying and selling at school for a premium.

It’s weird. I spent a very happy six months living in New York. I was young and daft. A mere 19 years old.  And now I’m taking my son there. Strange. I lived next door to a Snapples sales-man in the west village. But that was 20 years ago. It’s all changed.

What will he make of it? Could be interesting…

How will I fare with MS and Manhattan? Should I sit in a cafe and wave The Teenager off? He goes to London every month, so it’s not that different?

Will he be inspired, as I was? Will he see the similarity between the Glasgow grid system and Manhattan?

Who knows. But what I do know is his must-do list:

  • Tootsie Rolls
  • American t-shirts
  • A hot dog from a hot dog vendor
  • A taxi
  • A fire escape
  • Steam rising from the metro (underground?)
  • McDonalds
  • Taco Bell
  • Wendy’s

Wish me luck…

 

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I Only Went and Did It…

Starving WriterI can’t keep away, can I?

I’ve missed blogging and frequently find myself composing random blog posts in my head, so here I am again. I feel like one of the Rolling Stones on their endless comeback tours, although I’d be tucked up in bed by 9pm with my earplugs in.

Anyway, much excitement chez moi. I applied for the MA in creative writing and, um, I was offered a place in September. Eeek.

To pay for it, I may need to find a suitably grotty garret and eat marked-down bread every day (baked beans would blow the budget), huddled in moth-ridden blankets – but I feel that will only add to my new persona as ‘A Writer’.

In other developments:

  • The Teenager complained his human rights had been violated by my recent refusal to buy him a Domino’s pizza and a large bottle of Fanta. You can imagine how that conversation went.
  • I have started a ‘notebook where I jot down words I don’t know the meaning of’ in preparation for my course. An expository prologue would denote that this is a Byzantine, Sisyphean task.
  • Strangely, I developed tennis elbow last week without picking up a tennis racket since 1984.
  • I cut my own hair in a moment of frustration. Not to be recommended, although I’m pleasantly surprised at the outcome (after several angsty days). Plus I’ll save a fortune on hair masks, intensive moisturisers, olive oil, eggs, etc…
  • The cat continues to bring little field mice into the house and drop them at my feet then bowing and stepping back with an innocent grin before pointing to her food bowl. Must remember to wear socks or slippers in the morning. Mice entrails feel a bit squishy underfoot at 6am.
  • The Teenager has lodged an official complaint. I must not, under any circumstances, feed him any of the following: leeks, tomatoes, onions, spring onions, blue cheese of any description, chili flakes, tarragon, mustard, garlic or enchilladas. I have been encouraged to buy food only at shops full of freezers. Anything with chips apparently. And gravy.

Apart from that, life continues as normal. The Teenager is due back in two hours after a long weekend in London. We are off to New York on Wednesday – making good use of my tiny tribunal payout. Yup, The Teenager is coming to Manhattan. Watch this space, it should be a blast…

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Wowsers…

Wow. You guys are INCREDIBLE.

So many lovely messages and emails.

you decideI miss you guys and you’ve certainly got me thinking. I too miss blogging about me and The Teenager. Believe me, he’s not getting any easier:

‘You DON’T understand me.’

HOW can I function on any less than five yoghurts a day? And FYI I don’t like prune’

‘WHY is there no junk food in the fridge? What’s with the green stuff?’

Anyway, I have been inspired by you to apply for a Creative Writing MA. No, really. Me, who said they would never, not never take another exam not never again.

And here’s the crux. Should I learn the saxaphone or take the MA? You decide…..

Bxxx

Cxxx (Christopher, otherwise known as the Insanely Stroppy Teenager)

And Dora (mouse-killer extraordinaire) X

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