An unexpected evening: St Vincent's & the Beatrice Inn

Last night didn’t go quite as planned: my Blackberry hummed at 17:30 with a message from a friend who was in hospital as an emergency admission. The silly moo had been there since 9am but was too embarrassed/worried about disturbing me.

Cancelling my evening plans immediately, I hopped on my bike to St Vincent’s in the West Village where a rather pale & worried X was lying in Fast Track with a canula in her arm and a serious case of tummy rumbles. I nipped off pronto to buy her some supper, lots of mags and to fetch her a case of essentials from her apartment, mulling over the fact that that makes twice in six weeks I’ve had a close friend end up in St Vincent’s .

Anyway I stayed until ten-ish when X looked like she’d pop off to sleep. And then Sexy S buzzed me to say my name was on the door at Beatrice, for the Cry Wolf (more of this later) party just a few streets away. So off I went for some naughty shenanigans with S & with J, who has a proper case of the roving paws. Not that I minded especially: I don’t mind attention from cute boys, & he is more affectionate than lecherous.

I biked home at 1am in a record eight minutes from West Village to East. (I hadn’t been drinking so it was fine). There’s little better than whizzing through a deserted Manhattan: the streets are wide, one way and it's easier to avoid the myriad potholes. I could see the Chrysler & Empire State buildings to my left as I barrelled along Eighth, & thanked goodness for the thousandth time that I live in New York. (Yes, Muv – if you are reading this I did have my lights on).

Party pics at Guest of a Guest