All the leaves are brown...

Well, they're getting there. They're turning, at least. A couple of weeks ago we ushered in the first official day of Autumn, apparently. I love it. I'm one of those odd people who will go out of their way to step on a crunchy looking leaf (I even joined the Facebook group with other such strange leaf-steppers to let the world know about my addiction) and I've been looking forward to this season all year. I can't quite put my finger on what it is about Autumn that I love - the word 'Autumn' for a start, I suppose. It just sounds leafy and crunchy. I'm also one of those outcasts of society who doesn't give two figs about summer and could quite happily live without it. None of this SAD business. Bring on the elements!

I think it's the seasonal food and smells of Autumn that I love, too. Ginger and cinnamon and berries and other such scrumptious stuff. Ooh, and pumpkins. You can't beat carving a pumpkin (although mine usually end up looking like roadkill) and making a batch of pumpkin soup with the scooped out bits. Some mornings you can almost taste the frostiness even though it's a clear, bright day. A bit like today. Another Autumnal pleasure is walking down a tree-lined avenue when a gust of wind suddenly creates confetti made of foliage. I have to try and catch them. It's a law. I can often be seen outside running after leaves as if they were fluttering £20 notes.

I had been hoping that Central Park was starting to turn all shades of Fall when we were there a couple of weeks ago - but sadly, summer was just ending and the air was still warm. No Fall colours yet. Anyway, we made up for it this weekend with a wander along the Derwent which was just lovely. Although I did manage to slide - standing up - down a slippy hill, and as mud is attracted to me like a magnet, my jeans ended up with polka dot splodges and my boots are now a delightful shade of cacky brown.

Really must invest in some wellies.

I have to go powder my nose…

How could I forget to mention my celebrity-stalking excitement?! (Let me just clarify: I didn’t really stalk anyone, she just happened to run into me once or twice. I’m not that much of a loon. And hush, before you retort.) This is the story I will be telling everyone until I die, I’m sure. I’ve already bored everyone at work with it and *blush* emailed the Heat Online ‘Spotted’ column. That’ll be me buying Heat magazine for the next couple of weeks to see if I made it in, then.

Anyhoo, after the plane journey from hell (it wasn’t too bad to be honest, but I only caught about an hour’s uncomfortable doze as the spotlight above me was broken. So, in a pitch black cabin, there was me sitting there like an utter mentalist highlighted with what felt like the main beam headlights of someone’s car) I was feeling pretty rough and trundled through departures to the EU line in passport control. Who should be in the US citizens queue to my left? Only Uma blimmin’ Thurman plus her children and nanny! I had to do a triple-take to confirm; but I’m happy to report that even in my bedraggled state and feeling pretty crumpled after the flight – my hair was in better nick than hers.

After standing next to her at baggage claim (coincidentally, I assure you) whilst pulling my moth-eaten little suitcase off the belt as her stacks of Louis Vuitton matching luggage were loaded onto a trolley, I then nipped to the loo in departures – and who should come in with her munchkins (two extremely cute blonde mini Ethan Hawkes)? I was silently giggling to myself in the stall next door as all three of them took turns to relieve themselves of all the free airline orange juice – then composed myself enough to go back out and exclaim to my confused Other Half that I’d ‘just heard Uma Thurman wee!’

A splendid end to a tremendous ten days. I'll never see Pulp Fiction in the same light again. (‘I said god damn! God damn..!’)

The Fairytale of New York...

Afternoon all, I’m back from my travels and suffering! Not only are my poor worn out soles recovering from marathon Manhattan walking sessions, I’ve rediscovered that jet lag is not a pleasant thing (my good self and lack of sleep do not mix well, as The Other Half will testify vehemently). Yesterday was my first day back at work, which ordinarily is a dire thing anyway but after only 4 hours sleep (when my head is still five hours behind laughing at me and my body feels like it’s somewhere over the Atlantic in protest) and contending with what may or may not have been carried out from my handover list, it’s really badly rubbish.

It was all worth it though. New York was fantastic and we managed to get through so much I don’t even know where to begin. Since we’d been before we skipped a lot of the mega-touristy things like the Statue of Liberty and going up the Empire State building – but still indulged our sightseeing sides and donned our visitor hats with gusto admiring the views from the Top of the Rock and tracking down as many movie locations as we could find. I’d forgotten that the whole city is like a giant film set – every corner you turn you see something you recognise. Hence I spent pretty much the entire time saying things like ‘Ooh, that was in Ghostbusters/Home Alone 2/Enchanted/insert your favourite New York-set flick here’ and embarrassed myself by acting out scenes. Acting which, I might add, The Other Half often participated in. He makes a very good Dr. Venkman.

Anyway, I’m finding my eyelids very heavy today and I’m wishing that my chair was made of fleecy blankets and that my desk comprised of soft pillows instead of piles of post-its, manky coffee cups and the remnants of Hershey Kisses wrappers (the standard office fare whenever anyone has been Stateside). More reporting on the Big Apple adventures later – busy counting down the hours until I can go to bed!

Maybe after a repeat viewing of Crocodile Dundee though?

I just have to say...

In just over 36 hours I'll be in Manhattan.

That is all.

Goodnight.

A big apple.

As giddy as a kipper (or a big apple?)...

That's me this evening. Even though I'm exhausted, but it's good exhausted. Well, sort of. The shopping-all-weekend kind of exhausted. Normally I hate clothes shopping and trawling round gawd-awful retail outlets, energy-sucking shopping centres and (horror of horror) facing the chavtastic haunt and messiest shop in the world, Primark (actually I couldn't face it after all - I walked past quickly trying to avoid the throngs of teenagers pushing prams. Yes, yes, I know that's a sweeping generalisation but if you've ever had your ankles rammed by a double-buggie-wielding, tracksuit-clad mother in there, you'll know what I mean) - but this time it was for an excellent purpose. I'm going to New York on Wednesday!

And I've left everything to the last minute. As per usual. Thankfully the two day marathon around every shop in the North East (or so it seemed to my poor feet who have now given up on me completely) has paid off and I'm very pleased with my purchases. Even The Other Half, who is a worse shopper than me, has had fruitful expeditions. Although, I've had a blind panic to find my passport (I left it out; I know I did. I came across it a few days ago and said out loud 'Ooh, I'll leave that there where I can see it.' There was even half a ticket in it from the last time I flew. How it came to be wedged under The Box of Stuff in the study I don't know. Perhaps the cat hid it there in protest) and I still don't have any currency sorted out. That will be resolved tomorrow though. Fingers crossed.

So, I have another one and a half days left at work this week, then I'm gone until 13th. Woohoo! It's been almost 2 years since The Other Half and I have had a proper holiday together (i.e. more than 3 days off work in a row; and abroad) and since then I've endured listening to other folk talk about their global adventures with pangs of longing. I'm sure I've already started to get on people's nerves by randomly exclaiming where I'll be and what I'll be doing when they're having their boring weekly meetings; but to be honest, I don't care. Too excited. And that will only quadruple as the hours go by and I (hopefully) tick things off my to-do list at work. (Does anyone else get a little sense of accomplishment when you untick a red flag in your Outlook emails? No? Oh well.)

Look out New York City, I'll be there by Wednesday afternoon. And this time, I'm old enough to drink you dry.