I’M afraid I can’t do my column this week; I’m simply too excited.
“Do tell us why, Mairead,” I know none of you are saying. Oh well, if you insist.
As you sit reading this, I will surely be sipping on a cinnamon dolce crème frappuccino, or whatever you’re having yourself, in New York. Yes, it is true.
I have already spent an inordinate amount of time practicing my native New Yorker accent, just so I will blend in with the crowd. It is all very exciting. Five days, five nights – me and New York.
Whatshisname is coming too, but I keep forgetting that. Really, I shouldn’t forget as I will be relying on him considerably to get me through the subway system.
He is quite the whizz on the London tube, so I am presuming the New York subway will not faze him. Although, I should point out that I have a far better sense of direction.
Unless he has a GPS or whatnot, he gets totally confused.
I, however, have an excellent sense of place.
Whatshisname wants to hail a yellow cab by whistling at it. I kindly pointed out that this is a ridiculous idea seeing as cab drivers are hardly going to hear his specific whistle over the din of New York traffic.
He remains undeterred, however. I think we shall do that straight away so we can then concentrate on the stuff I want to do … which actually just revolves around me pretending I’m in Sex and the City … with a considerable portion of time dedicated to eating, which is very un-Sex and the City.
Everyone keeps telling me to go with an empty suitcase, which is ridiculous. If they knew me, they would know that is never going to happen.
I’m not going to buy anything over there that I don’t already have. My suitcase is already brimming with clothing to suit every occasion and eventuality.
One cannot travel to New York without going totally prepared. I have seven dresses, three pairs of jeans, two pairs of shorts, five skirts, ten tops, five T-shirts, four jackets, eight pairs of tights, ten knickers (not including the two pairs of tummy sucky-in type) five bras, three pairs of socks, two scarves, seven belts, three pairs of heels, two pairs of flip-fl ops, one pair of boots and two pairs of shoes.
I’ve also included one hair straightener, one crimper, two mini-bottles of hairspray, one packet of Rennies, one packet of painkillers, two packets of clips, my entire make-up collection, three packets of Party Feet things to cover each area of the foot, one packet of plasters, three pairs of sunglasses, two phone chargers, six packets of tissues, one shampoo, one conditioner, along with a few other essentials.
Unfortunately, I can’t fi t everything in my wardrobe, so I made some tough choices and left a few beloved items at home.
“Remember, you are only allowed bring one bag,” Whatshisname then tells me. “Why?”
“Because you are only allowed one checked-in bag.” “Well, that’s fine, I can just use your bag.”
“You can’t use my bag.” “Why?”
“Because I have to bring clothes too.”
“I think you are being unreasonable, I really do.” “You’ll have to repack, you can’t bring everything you own.”
Whatever ... I am not repacking. I need everything I am bringing; I can’t possibly survive without my essential items.
I suppose if I do forget anything I can always buy it there … except a passport. I must really remember to pack my passport.