"We speak only in memories"

I'm in Central Park, in the glorious sunshine. I suppose that makes a change from the usual things I write on this.

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I think I may have tempted fate by saying that I needed a comfy bed. Arrival at the airport was fine, we had a perfectly fine taxi ride to the hotel, we checked in and then found the room only had one bed. We went down, assuming there had been a mixup, to then be told that was the only room they had available, so couldn't move us at all. So I slept on the floor. We were assured that we'd be okay for the next night, but when there's no other rooms available there's little you can really do.

This morning, after flicking through the telly channels and discovering that nobody in this country has the slightest interest in formula one, we also discovered that there wasn't even a kettle in the room. Anyone who has met me for even five minutes knows that I'm an utter bastard of a morning before I've had coffee, so this wasn't the best start I could have hoped for. But a diner was found to supply us with copious amounts of coffee and pancakes, before deciding to spend the day in Central Park. Since we were both so tired, and the weather was so beautiful, it was decided this was a better plan than attemping to force interest in a museum of some kind.

Plus I had the mountain that is the Sunday edition of the New York Times to devour.

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