As advertised, I finally made it out of Brooklyn by myself, guided only by signs that tell me how to do (and not to do) absolutely everything, and survive for several seconds completely on my own in Union Square before I grabbed hold of an old friend and begged directions to the nearest donut shop.
Rebecca and I had broken up. For one day only, but it was necessary, after the weeks spent together packing up the house and flying to the US, to do something apart so that we would have something original to talk about.
Vulnerable tourists, we were both babysat, Rebecca with Ali and me with Shawn. The girls went high-brow and indulgent, hitting the MOMA and then slinking back for massages. Shawn and I went for an altogether more…teenage option. Continue reading