.....Well not quite. Upstairs lies sleeping our neighbour's small son. But that is another story.
Alan left for New York this afternoon - anxiously patting his pockets and murmuring the mantra 'Ticket, Passport, Dollars, Ticket, Passport, Dollars' - occasionally, and for variety, adding 'Glasses, Spare Glasses, Camera' to his chant. Chill, Al. Chill.
Right now he's stopped off en route in Stockport to meet Dan and hopefully he and Harry have plyed him with plenty of vino blanco at La Casona on Shaw Road in Heaton Moor. I gather that double portions of calamari were eaten.*
He and Daniel will be spending 3 nights in Manhattan. Alan particularly wants to see the Museum of Modern Art and mooch around what is still one amazing city. I guess the last time we were there together was in February 2000 - or maybe 1999. Time flies.
Me? I've elected to stay here at the end of the Long Mountain, having had enough of New Yorkers' rudeness the last time. As a reward I get to enjoy torrential rain which has left the ground saturated and a chill more suited to March.
*n.b. Thou shalt not covet thy husband's supper...