We've now moved into our August apartment and it's so, so much better than where we were in July. Hubs told a colleague where we'd moved to and was met with a snort of derision. Apparently “nobody lives in Midtown anymore”, which is factually incorrect (and a bit douchey), lots of people do and I'm glad to be one of them. 24 hour shops and restaurants abound and it's constantly busy, which rather seems the point of living in NYC. Happily our apartment is very quiet too, the best of both worlds. Lots of the big museums and Central Park are a mere stroll away, so I thought I would go for a wander around the latter.

When I was last in Central Park it was November, which meant a large outdoor ice rink. In the summer the same spot gets turned into a wee fun fair.

Blokes playing chess at Chess and Checkers House.

One of the tiny birds that dominate the city. They're as pesky as pigeons, but cute, which makes them not pesky at all. In the background, a group of black nannies and their privileged white babies. It's like The Help never happened*. I'm sure this happens in London too, but I've never noticed it. Here, it's a phenomenon.

I spotted a little dragonfly, which thoughtfully sat very still while I took lots of photos of it. It's possible it stayed so still because it was on its last legs, but let's not think about that, let's just look at these two nice pictures. His wings are so pretty!

It was very hot so I had a little sit down and looked all sexy like a chipmunk. Then I went into a cafe with a/c, as the sweat was pooling in my lower back (see?! Sexy). I'll be exploring the north part of the park next week, I'll get the subway up and find my way back south again. So watch this space if that sounds like fun, until next time, adieu!

*being facetious again.

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The last post was a bit wordy, so it seemed a good time to post some random photographs that didn't have a place anywhere else. I wouldn't want you to miss anything, would I?

Look. The Empire State Building!

Bit harsh.

Jekyll and Hyde pub, 'haunted' by one poor, down on his luck actor and a load of annoying plastic faces.

Shoe on the subway, which has been there so long it's homogenising.

Especially for 30 Rock lovers.

Chrysler Building.

Dumbarse car outside our apartment.

As we were leaving a bar one night, one of the staff ran after us with a plastic bag asking if it belonged to us. We replied that it didn't, but enquired about its contents. It turned out to be this mask, here modelled by a friend, and some tights. I try not to think too much about what its intended use was.

For the sake of circularity, a shot of the Empire State Building at night, taken from the fire escape of our July apartment. I wouldn't zoom in, it doesn't stand up well to HD. I must try harder at this photography stuff.

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I’ve been a little slack on the updating over the last few days as my adventures have been slightly limited by rain and apartment hunting. Happily, it’s now stopped raining and we move into our new place mid this week. We’ll be heading further midtown, so expect lots of wandering around Central Park and museum mile over the next month.

You *might* be aware that the Olympics started at the weekend in my hometown. I remember huddling around a television in the office I was working at in London Bridge seven years ago, expectantly awaiting the announcement of who was going to get to host. New York City was actually in consideration at one point, but in the end it was down to London and Paris. I’ve never been especially interested in the Olympics, I’m not huge on national pride and I don’t love watching sport, so it’s just not really my bag. However, standing in a group of excited Londoners, anticipating a chance to get one over on the Parisians (in a purely jovial manner, of course) I got quite excited. I audibly squeed when we won, did a little jig and then promptly forgot about it. I’ve only paid it much attention in the years since when reading reports of how much it’s costing and how much we couldn’t afford it, so I was never especially concerned about being away from home when it happened.

Toward the end of last week though, the excitement started to build again. Not for the games, I still don’t like sport (except gymnastics, which is basically just cute little girls dancing*), but for the opening ceremony. Largely because I have a lot of love for Danny Boyle (who masterminded the whole thing) and a lot of hate for Mitt Romney, who gave a verbal side-eye to our ability to host. The ceremony was only being broadcast in edited highlights on US TV, but I spied an Irish pub that had a live satellite feed and so headed down on my tod to soak in the atmosphere. I was soon joined by some lovely American ladies and we proceeded to get very drunk. My little heart swelled with national pride at the bizarre, yet lovely (and timely, given what’s happening to it at the moment) NHS tribute. I learnt that Americans really, really like Mr. Bean and, sadly, don’t know who Dizzee Rascal is. The shot of Michael Fish (a British weather man who mislead us into thinking there wasn’t going to be a storm in the 80’s when there was) confused most everyone, including me, give the Fish a break, it was over twenty years ago… Seems we take our weather very seriously, us Brits. The whole thing was a little scatty and odd, but that’s what made it distinctly British and I felt proud of my city and country as I watched it. So proud, in fact, that we finished the night with all you can drink booze and karaoke, nothing says ‘I love my country’ like out of tune singing, eh? None of this would have happened if Paris had got the games, so I say yay, even if I’m already a bit bored of hearing about all the rest of it already. Though less bored than the queen, apparently.

I feel any blog post is improved by a brunch picture, so here is what we ate to cure our hangovers the next day. We went to the Bluebell Cafe on 3rd, as we’d had a delicious dinner there last week. It was pretty decent, though I think my standards have dropped following the dreadful, pricey Pastis last week. I had my usual combo (I really should start changing it up, but I do loves me some bacon, eggs and potatoes) while Mr me had crab cake benedict, which I neglected to photograph before he’d started tucking in. Mine was accompanied by an American ‘biscuit’, which is not an actual biscuit but a sweet bread roll, sadly.

*I’m being facetious. Don’t write in etc etc.

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Thousands of New Yorkers gathered in Union Square today for a Day of Action in support of worker's rights. The rally follows one on the 17th July in support of staff from Consolidated Edison, an energy company here in New York. The company had been in contract talks with its 8,500 unionised staff but talks broke down and staff were locked out and haven't been able to work since. Despite the fact that the company made more than 1 billion dollars in profit last year, they want to cut the wages, pensions and healthcare provisions of their staff. While I was standing and watching the rally a man sidled up to me and asked if I agreed with the protest. I responded that you'd either have to be very rich or very stupid not to, luckily he was neither, so I didn't get shouted at. Phew. Con Ed staff were joined by workers from all over the city, protesting about low wages and substandard benefits. The 99% are revolting again, y'all.

I've also never seen anyone make Unions seem cool before. It annoys me how much cooler Americans are than us Brits. If I was at a similar event in the UK I may have sighed and wandered off at the news that someone had written a rap about Trade Unions. Instead I raised my camera high in the air and filmed it for you. The rap starts about a minute in, even the woman is cool, despite messing up her part a little. The bald white guy clearly isn't cool, but he is playing the part of the 1%, so I think he's just pretending.

Apart from being cool, the New Yoikers also love their religion. Like, really love it. I don't know why this comes as a surprise to me, what with being in the USA. I just tend to think of the big cities as somehow separate to the rest of the country. Personally, I don't understand the role of religion at a protest like this, but I am in the minority. Behold, many Religions, all in support of the 99%.

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After weeks of intense heat, the skies finally had enough on Wednesday and cooked up a massive storm for us. It was pretty exciting, huge hailstones, lightening and thunder abounded. This view from our apartment demonstrates none of those things.

It would have been slightly more exciting for me had I not needed to go out in it to see my beloved Simon Amstell in the East Village. I’ve wanted to see him for years, but tickets sell out fast in the UK and I am consistently useless at booking things in advance. Fortunately (for me more than him) he is less popular here, so tickets were available the day before the show. The dedication of my accomplice in Amstell fun deserves a mention here, what with her driving all the way from Montreal, just for the show. That’s about 370 miles, fact fans! In fact, I should probably give up calling Amstell my beloved, for he is clearly far more hers than mine. He was wonderful, hilarious and just a little poignant, as expected. Although it was odd watching him in an audience of New Yorkers, hearing him try to explain things that didn’t need explaining… Like comparing Shoreditch to Williamsburg, which made me less inclined towards the latter, hipsters make me feel funny in my tummy.

The couple of days after the storm were grey and rainy, so my adventures were limited, though I did manage a trip to the aforementioned hipster centre on Friday night. There were less haircuts than I had feared, and more Polish beer, which I like. Mr me was more enamoured than I. I found it a little quiet after the constant buzz of downtown Manhattan, though I am assured it’s just because everyone leaves the city for summer. I just feel like the beauty of New York is the fact that it never sleeps. Dear old Frank taught us that (I say dear a little cynically, I hear he was actually a bit of a sh*t. Nice pipes though). However, I am relentlessly fickle, so expect a post in the future where I bang on about how much better Brooklyn is than smelly old Manhattan.

On Saturday we awoke to a beautiful, sunny, non-sweaty day so I decided to introduce Mr me to the wonderful High Line. On the way we dropped into Pastis on 9th Avenue for a spot of brunch. I’d visited before, and had enjoyed it muchly, so thought it was a risk free proposition. Sadly, I was wrong. A more disappointing brunch has not been eaten in years. YEARS! For $28 I was served pouched eggs with hard yolks (a travesty of first world proportions!), standard white bread, overcooked, dried out sausages and merely half decent potatoes. My Mr fared a little better with his smoked salmon and scrambled eggs but only barely. We arrived at the tale end of the brunch service, so perhaps that was the problem, but I won’t be visiting again to find out. Humph.

The High Line, in case anyone reading isn’t in the know, is an elevated park which runs for a mile along the west side of Manhattan, along old railway tracks. Construction started in 2006 and it first opened in 2009. It’s really bloody lovely, beautifully designed, with wonderful architecture in its environs. My Mr and I took many photos, some of which follow for your viewing pleasure.

And this is where I was standing, on the right there.

Flowers and streets.

Keep off the grass, bitches.

Hot daaaaawg.

City field.

Art, innit.

Oh, how we laughed.

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Following in my pattern of being useless at planning my adventures around the weather, yesterday was muggy and sticky, so I headed up to Times Square for a wander. It’s been hot, night and day, for so long now that the city is developing a putrid stench in some corners. It’s like living in the middle ages, but with more car horns.

I’ve always been a little in awe of Times Square. The London equivalent is Leicester Square which is ugly, dirty and I doubt has ever impressed anyone, ever. Times Square isn’t exactly beautiful or clean either, but the scale of it is so immense and the lights are so bright that I can’t help my awe. The military obviously rely on the shinyness and rampant consumerism inspiring some sort of national pride, as there is an army recruiting centre bizarrely situated right in the middle of everything. It even has a big lit up flag on one side, especially for those Americans who break down in tears every time they see it.

These lovely young ladies didn’t seem to be too interested in joining the army. They just wanted to get painted up like they were in a Gotye video and try to ignore the hoards of men (and me) trying to get pictures of them.

This guy was attracting slightly less attention, despite his nicely descriptive boots.

Naked cowpeople were well represented, as I found a lady too. She was a bit old, and was attracting the most attention of them all. Although most people seemed to be trying to avoid getting too close, either because they didn’t want to pay a dollar, or because she scared them.

I actually think she has a pretty banging body for an old bird, but her face gives me the fear. Tanning’s bad for the skin, kids.

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