Free-for-all

It’s quiet and tidy around here since Daughter and Boyfriend #1 jetted off back to London on a cloud of Valium (due to Daughter #1’s dread of flying, overcome only by her fondness for foreign holidays and a sympathetic doctor). They cleaned up after themselves so well that I didn’t have much to do once they had gone and I had finished shedding a tear or two, so I headed out for a walk around the neighbourhood. He Who Knows Best was at work and Child #6 was settling back into the bedroom she had vacated two weeks previously, which was in an unsettling state of uber-tidiness. So I set off alone, secretly relishing the prospect of a little me-time.

Alas, even if you live in a relatively untouristy part of Manhattan, as we do, it is impossible to enjoy a gentle stroll around the hood when it’s a free-for-all on the sidewalk. Wander aimlessly, text your friends while charging along, let your dog sniff all over the place at the end of a long and deadly leash, and you’ll fit right in. Be a Brit with good pavement etiquette and an expectation of common courtesy and you’ll stand out like a sore thumb. Which is the least of what you’ll get if you don’t stay vigilant.

I admit I’m a slow learner. But I think it’s finally time, after more than four years in the city, for me to gen up on the rules around here. So, here goes. Rule number one: as a pedestrian, you are obliged to suddenly change direction with no warning whatsoever and not even a glance over your shoulder to alert those unfortunate enough to be pedestrianising behind you. Rule number two: do not show the slightest consideration for your fellow travellers, it’s bad form. Rule number three: under no circumstances excuse yourself or apologise for walking slap bang into someone, even if it happens to be an elderly person with failing eyesight and a walking frame – they shouldn’t be holding up the traffic.

He Who Knows Best has even less tolerance for this kind of behaviour than I do. He can frequently be found muttering about people walking too slowly or stopping suddenly so that there’s a human pile-up. He has taken to throwing his hands into the air in a gesture far greater than the crime merits and declaring, in a fine rendition of your average New Yorker, ‘Really? Really??’ I have stopped taking him to high-traffic places like Times Square in case he starts to lecture New York’s Finest on how to do their job when it comes to shepherding the crowds.

Anyway, I finally settled for sitting outside and savouring the sunshine and a cup of java. And it was so much fun watching from the sidelines as people bumped and tutted and gesticulated. I swear I even heard some muttering … but surely He Who Knows Best was at work?

Inspiration struck today at ... The Grey Dog, West 16th Street, between 7th and 8th

It had been a while since I had been here but the atmosphere was as relaxed and the coffee as mediocre as I remembered. Food is good, though.

Pros: Good pub atmosphere for all age groups all day long.

Cons: Always busy, so you don’t feel you can linger over one cuppa while you write the next ‘Gone with the Wind’ and avoid eye contact with the waiter.