New York, New York, so good they named it twice,New York, New York, all the scandal and the vice, I love it! So sang Gerard Kenny in 1978. I'm not so sure about the vice, but I love a bit of scandal and where better to read about it than in the New York Times? Sitting in one of NY's many diners, while knocking back endless cups of coffee and wolfing down a real Big Apple breakfast, is a pretty good way to soak up the city morning atmosphere. I started my affair with New York in 1971 when I visited the city for the first time at the tender age of fourteen, flying from London on my own. Too scared to disturb the passenger next to me, or to use the lavatory, I remained in my seat for the whole journey, listening to Tony Blackburn through crackly headphones, on a continuous one-hour loop. Emerging surprisingly unscarred from the experience of hearing the iconic disk jockey's cheesy jokes eight times, I was met at the airport by the American family with whom I stayed for one month. It was the time of flower power and the hippy generation, a movement I embraced ...

Stepping into the spa we were immediately transported to a place of serenity and tranquility. Beautiful aromas drifted past us, igniting our senses. Spa staff with beautiful snow-white uniforms and a smile to match welcomed us to

‘There is something in the air..’ Remember the lyrics of the ABBA song? Those lines definitely apply to New York. The moment I stepped out of La Guardia airport and into the proverbial New York cab, I knew I had arrived at a very special destination. With the help of a lot of sign language and bits and pieces of several other idioms, I convinced the cabbie to find his way to Manhattan, more precisely Central Park where I checked into my hotel, freshened up and was ready to explore. It was my first time in New York and I thought Manhattan would be much more confusing and not easy to navigate. Not so, I mean the entire island is only 11 miles long and 2.5 miles wide, all laid out beautifully in a grid, so how can you possibly get lost? But what sites and adventures are crammed into such a comparatively small space! The very air, quite cold in February, but invigorating, was humming with energy. First stop was a real New York hot dog at the entrance to Central Park. It just doesn’t taste the same anywhere else. The park is huge, green and absolutely beautiful. People ...

I’m no Meg Ryan and he’s no Tom Hanks, yet despite this, we managed to fall in love and have a sleepless time in the city that never sleeps. 

Red-eyed from the flight we made our way from JFK to The Gershwin, a 
boutique hotel on 27th and 5th. 

After checking in we walked ten blocks to the Empire State and ascended 102 floors to the top. The city twinkled before us in the cold clear night sky. Behind us the park was quiet. Ahead of us Fifth Avenue looked alive with lights as it carved it’s way down the island dissecting it in two before losing itself in a mish mash of streets heralding the start 
of Greenwich which beckoned us to descend, hail a cab and make our way to The Blue Note in the heart of The Village. 

 Jazz courtesy of Ben E King, daiquiris and our hearts aglow we hailed 
another cab down to the waterfront and watched the sun come up and the boats busy themselves under Brooklyn Bridge. 

Practising our very best John Travolta struts we walked to the middle 
of the Bridge before returning to pose for pictures in Battery Park with 
the ...