nw3 to nyc

Observations on moving my family across the Atlantic

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Zombie moms

It is super hot in New York at the moment. Tuesday was the worst at 32 degrees. And it’s humid. And I’m wilting. I hang around in the playground in shorts, which is quite frankly a miracle for me. But it is unbearable to wear trousers, so I have accepted my legs and embraced them in their coolness.

At around 4pm on this hot, humid, clammy day the moms (that’s only because I’m talking about the US, not because I have gone native; far from it) started to appear out of nowhere. Now when I got to the park it was pretty empty, all the camp kids were elsewhere, the toddlers napping and everyone else more sensible in air conditioning somewhere. So this sudden slow emergence of women pushing buggies and forming a strange semi circle seemed a bit to Stepford Wives for me. They even started putting down picnic blankets on the hard concrete floor, which seemed odd to me.

Luckily my good British friend G was on hand to advise. Apparently the parks had advertised a bit of a sing song at 4pm and it was for all the moms and their babes. After a shaky start the singer started doing her thing and it was not good. I couldn’t hear her well, the amp wasn’t very powerful and quite frankly her stage presence, along with her dress sense, was distinctly lacking. Sorry parks, nice try, but I swiftly left the zombie moms and scarpered back to the air conditioning, stroppy sweaty toddler in tow – he seemed to quite like it. Must work on that one.

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No jacket required

My apologies for invoking the spirit of Phil Collins and his 1985 album in this post. He called his album by this name after an incident at The Pump Room in Chicago, where Collins was denied admittance to this establishment because of his attire. I think of it only because it is so incredibly humid here in NYC that to wear more than a t shirt on your upper body is  a mistake. My British side sees rain and thinks, ‘yes, it is raining, I must wear my raincoat and perhaps some Wellington boots*’. But my newly adopted NYC self knows this is wrong. It is raining, but it is hot: it is counter intuitive. Don’t wear a rain coat as you will melt. In fact, wear as little as possible, but always carry an umbrella, that way you will be a true New Yorker.

*Oh, and by the way, if you say Wellington boots or ‘wellies’ here you will get a funny look as no one will know what you are talking about. They are rain boots.