Ding Dong!

Saturday
Finished reading ‘Up The Junction’ this morning. A superbly written book full of beautifully described snippets of dialogue such as:

Sylvie pisses in the road. ‘Quick Sylv, there’s a car comin’ in ter park!’ The headlights beam. ‘Pull your drawers up!’
‘It’s all right,’ she jumps to her feet, ‘I don’t wear no drawers on Friday nights – it’s ‘andy…’

A few months ago I met a chap at a party who was the spit of Leslie Phillips. Indeed, there was something of the cad about him. In the course of our conversation it transpired that he had spent many years living in New York, so I asked him if he could recommend something off the tourist map. Without hesitation he said, ‘The Cathedral of St John the Divine on West 112th Street'. Apparently he had been involved with the choir there. I didn’t inquire as to what form that involvement took because he was wearing a cravat.

Today I set off to explore the Upper West Side and took an express train up to 125th Street – set high up on a viaduct it’s one of the few elevated stations in Manhattan no less. Somebody once told me that to be safe, tourists should not go above 100th Street – what nonsense. I walked through a park of cherry trees given to the city in 1912 by the community of Japanese residents, and on to the colossal General Grant National Memorial. When this mausoleum – one of the largest in the world – was erected in 1897 it was one of the most popular tourist attractions in New York. Eerily quiet on my visit, I wandered inside where there’s a small museum and you can peer at the massive, polished granite tombs.

Onwards to the Riverside Church, but there was a wedding taking place so I couldn’t go inside. They wouldn’t let me up the bell tower either as, I was informed, it’s under repair. Pity. So on to Columbia University – the oldest institution of higher learning in New York with a very smart campus. I wandered into the Roman Catholic Grotto Church of Notre Dame with an incredibly kitsch stone replica of the grotto at Lourdes behind the altar, complete with artificial ivy – a sight to behold. I steered clear of Morningside Park – the most notoriously crime-ridden park in Manhattan (blimey, and there’s me forgotten to put me bullet proof undies on) and turned a corner to be confronted with the monumental folly-like edifice that is ‘St John’s of Perpetual Construction’ more correctly known as the Episcopal Cathedral of St John the Divine. It is the largest cathedral in the world – no, it really is – although they haven’t entirely finished building it since construction was interrupted by Pearl Harbor and America’s consequent entry into World War II. I strolled around feeling completely dwarfed. It wasn’t until I was walking out that I realised I should have paid an entrance fee – still sinning after all these years. The gardens outside were supposed to have wandering peacocks, but there were none. Strangely though, the gift shop was selling pens made out of peacock feathers. I put two and two together.

Another block on to Tom’s Restaurant. I’ve never got into ‘Seinfeld’ so its significance there was lost on me, but it also featured in Suzanne Vega’s ‘Tom’s Diner (‘I am sitting / In the morning / At the diner / On the corner etc.). Along Broadway to a bar called ‘West End’ where I had lunch on the terrace. This is the place where Kerouac, Ginsberg and Burroughs hung out when they were at Columbia University. I knocked back a bloody mary and felt a little giddy.

Further down Broadway I took a seat in a little park dedicated to the memory of Ida and Isidor Straus, elderly residents of the area who lost their lives when the Titanic sank. They refused to take up space in the lifeboats on account of their age. On past a statue outside a Buddhist Temple – the statue survived the atomic bomb blast in Hiroshima. I continued through Riverside Park and finally down to the banks of the Hudson where I risked life and limb amongst the roller-bladers, cyclists and skateboarders. A woman stopped me and asked me if I had a dime. Instinctively I said no - she didn't look like she needed it - but she persisted, saying 'What? You haven't got the time?' Doh!

I sat there for a while writing and watching the world go by before catching a subway back to the apartment. Owing to the sunshine, I had developed a rosy complexion.

Later, went out to the Chelsea Piers to watch the sun go down over the Hudson before finding an Indian snackerie for some delicious nosh, then back to the apartment for cheesecake, wine and a foot spa. Penelope Keith on the telly – introducing Mollie Sugden (‘You should see the state of my pussy Captain Peacock’), Prunella Scales, Patricia Routledge and other ‘Queens of British Comedy’ – phone in and pledge $150 now and we’ll show you more 70’s sitcoms and send you a DVD and mug! What a great deal – public access television – how do we live without it?

Started reading the huge tome that is Ben Okri's 'The Famished Road'. I think this will keep me going through October.