Running errands in Manhattan

So. New York. I left you as I drank tea with one of my Twitter acquaintance in Soho House. With a train to catch back to the sticks at 1745hrs (me) & a very nice lunch guest awaiting (my friend), our meeting was necessarily short, and I whizzed off to the arse end of Chelsea for a poke around in my basement storage container.

When I gave up my Manhattan apartment in February, I put all my household goods, spare clothes and books into storage. It looked like this for a while, but I've spent a few hours each time I go into the city going through each hastily packed bag and case throwing out junk, making piles for The Salvation Army, trying to consolidate everything.

I had a fine old time yesterday going through it all, ferreting out house keys, Oyster cards and other London essentials. Although I spent most of the time picking out clothes for London. I have a few winter pieces here in New Jersey, but not only has it not dropped beneath 55F here, they are of the comfy variety, as opposed to the trussed up cocktail/smart lunch/dating variety, all of which activities I have every intention of indulging in once I hit London.

I also downgraded to a much smaller container: I've got rid of so much that I don't need the bigger space any more, & I'll save $50 a month. After a while I emerged, blinking, (it's no wonder I have so few wrinkles - I never see daylight), onto the ground floor to sign the papers and casually checked the time. 1620hrs! I had been down there for THREE & A HALF HOURS.

It completely threw me: I don't wear a watch, so hadn't marked the passing of time. It seemed like only an hour had gone by. I had a scant 60mins to run all my errands and get back to Penn at 34th. Ack.

Now completely stressed, and lugging my wheelie case, thigh high boots threatening to become ankle boots, I struggled across 21st street all the way to 8th and hopped an E to Rockefeller Center to buy my mother's 2010 engagement diary from The Met Store on the Plaza. I am such a good daughter. Then, after a quick swing by (overrated) Magnolia Bakery's midtown location for the Red Velvet cupcakes I always bring Y from the city, I sprinted to the subway, taking no prisoners as I & my case cannoned into tourists every few metres. (I have zero spatial awareness at the best of times.)

Of course, even after another stop to fulfill my mother's esoteric magazine requests at Hudson News, I made an earlier train. Manhattan is so tiny, and the subway so fast, efficient and frequent that I had made it from 21st & 11th to 53rd & 5th to 50th & 7th and down to 34th & 8th in just fifty minutes, shopping time included. God I love New York