Nic moc

Isn't it sad when the only real success of the day is having sent off a census form?  I got the expected blank kind of look and no words other than 'you know you have to post it today, right?' (in Czech of course) as I was handed the envelope to send the damned forms off in.  But the point is, it's done.

Everything else was rather ,nic moc' (nothing much).  I'd been mostly dreading things that hadn't been proved, some of which turned out ok, then there was one non-census related bureaucratic irritation and a bit of exercise to round-off the day.

There's nothing like leaping around to Limp Bizkit, singing/saying '...cause your mouth's writing cheques that your ass can't cash.'  (One of my favourite lines. I wish I could find a way to slip that into a conversation one day.  Preferably with a person of authority who keeps going back on her word rather a lot.)  I even managed all my high kick moves to the full-on bits in the "Rollin' (Air raid vehicle)" track.  My fitness level must be slowly creeping back.  [Minor success.]

And then I read an article in a French magazine while having a relaxing bath, and watched a music video of Maxime le Forestier's song 'L'homme au bouquet de fleurs'.  One of my favourites.  Not least because it's a really intriguing song with Daniel Auteuil in the video.  I have to come back to French things from time to time because it's somehow where my heart lies, more than England.  My soon-to-be temporary French teacher told me I should have been French after I told him about my penchant for red wine and dinners with friends.  Maybe he's right.  He also said, "it's never too late to change your nationality!"  It's a tempting thought.  But my Dad, and now the architect too, would never forgive me.

New Yorku, Miluji Tě

I got so desperate today, that I found myself not only listening to Limp Bizkit and making rash decisions, but I also ended up drawing a rough map of New York and told a couple of meet-ees about where things were.  Mostly the airports.  Which is kind of stupid.  But it made me feel closer to it somehow, as though it isn't unimaginable that I could go back there one day.  It's rather sad that I've been fantasising about the place so much lately.  I think it's just the spring weather that brings it on and makes me think of what a good time of year it is to go there.

I also miss the idea of that kind of creative holiday of wandering around museums and the park and buying coffees (or iced coffees in warm spring weather) and reading newspapers and magazines, and above all, indulging in some people-watching.  I would kill for that right now.

Instead, I shall have to face the demands of the strait-jacketers around me and keep my fantasies to myself.

But just for old time's sake, here are a few fond corners of New York I wouldn't have wanted to miss, not least for the daily diary-writing at the cafe, which culminated in a typical New Yorker, "Good luck with the writing" comment from a random fellow coffee-drinker:

Where else would you get blue sky in EVERY picture?  I even miss travelling on the  rather 'ghetto' JMZ train.  The view as it ambled across to Manhattan from Williamsburg was truly a delight in itself.  I just hope they haven't done a 'Northern Line' kind of re-vamp on it or something awful like that.  I don't think New York can take any more 'disney-fying', quite honestly.  It's just not her style.