Come Fly With Me

Not the greatest traveller in the world, it was not without trepidation that I made my way to Heathrow Airport. I thought I would give the Heathrow Express a go and – nightmare journey to Paddington aside – it was VERY smooth. At my destination in 15 minutes and costing about a pound a minute. At some point in my journey it actually occurred to me that I might be cutting it fine. Of course for me, ‘cutting it fine’ means ‘with only an hour to spare’ so rather than set my self off in panic mode I decided to embrace the theme and chill out. Check in was smooth as smooth can be and the lovely lady at AA blocked the rest of my row so that I could lie down. How sweet was that?

I then wandered aimlessly around the airport – bought some Toblerone (new fruit & nut!), some Au Savage and decided I was hungry and went to the Oirish Pub. It was here that a simply gorgeous young gent from Connecticut bought me a drink.

I arrived in JFK a whole hour early. Presumably the gods had decided to compensate me for attempting to be louche. It was here that I picked up a sweet young southern belle and allowed her to share my car to Atlantic Avenue. Luckily for her I knew it was near where Ralph lived. She appeared to have some really high octane job where Hassidic Jews shuttled her all over the world – she was just returning from Beijing via Milan – and in her accent, which was a hoot, she acknowledged that at airports she often “relayed on th’ kandnass of strenjahs”.

Naturally it was great to see Ralph again and looking so well. I was amazed at his apartment, which is enormous. Dripping with arty things, no too gay and is wonderfully situated.

Falling into a dreamless sleep I awoke at 5.30am to find Tyron in his pants prepping for a shoot. Too funny. I waited for him to leave, because he must have had a lot to do and then sneaked out to find a coffee. The diner up the road is pure vintage America and the waitress, charming. I am cooking here for the boys tonight and am now off to wake Ralph up. I know he is always such a grouch in the mornings, so please, if this is my last entry on my blog, contact my relatives.