Some days I'm glad I'm just a guy. Tuesday afternoon in New York City was one of those days.

It was great to see everyone – as always, sorry it's over. Why does it go by so quickly? I am wading through the photographs I collected so hope to put some up on the web soon. In the meantime, you will have to settle for a few photos from New York City and a description of some of the activities we were compelled to endure with Pete, Miles and Jordy.

The drive to the city was very smooth and uneventful. Pete's computer's travel instructions ensured that we didn't meet any traffic until we hit the George Washington Bridge after which, of course, it became bumper to bumper, crawling at an average speed of 3 metres an hour. The directions took us to Ann and Ely's where Pete dropped us and where we were met by Marcus, Pete's cousin, who hopped in the car and guided him on his way to Brooklyn for the next part of his adventure.

Ann and Ely's was exceedingly convenient and extraordinarily comfortable – not only was it considerably cheaper than most New York hotels we might have considered but it was also in very close proximity to our favourite UN ambassador who resides at 92nd and 2nd Avenue when he is the city, as he was on this occasion. As it happens, Miles was also in town with girlfriend Alexandra in tow so plans had been made and adventures plotted.

We met up with Miles and Alexandra and Jordy, Ching and Juliet for dinner on Friday evening and ate at a very good Italian close by. Just so that Sandy and Pam do not feel jealous, please note that it was not the same Italian we supped at with the Ryans a few years ago – apparently, Osso Buco is now under different management and not nearly as satisfactory as it was then. This place, whose name escapes me at the moment, I am afraid, was delightfully acceptable. Then, following dinner it was into a pair of cabs for a sprint to the Ambassador Theatre where Miles had acquired tickets to Chicago – a terrific performance which elicited a genuine standing ovation.

Saturday we met up with the Ryans and Miles and Alexandra again and visited the “Summer of Love” exhibition at the Whitney which was terrific fun. The audio guide which accompanied the exhibition contained short descriptions followed by extracts of music from the sixties & seventies so there we were, bopping and jigging to fine music while these youngsters stared incredulously. “We were there!” we announced with not some small degree of pride as they stared, mouths open. Just as Miles was explaining that an alumnus of Webb, Mark McCloud, has one of the finest collections of LSD art in the world, we came across the exhibit displaying three of his collection. Sandy and/or Steph will know him – Kim and Kelly, his older brothers, were at Webb with Miles, Jordy and me. (Regrettably, it seems that the active LSD evaporates over time but apparently the art work which accompanied it is now very collectible).

After that, Jordy, Juliet, Pen and I set off to Union Square to meet up with Pete and Marcus for the trek up to Yankee Stadium and the ball game between the Yankees and the Tigers. Various other members of the excursion drifted in and, after more or less all were accounted for, we set off on the subway for Yankee Stadium. Marcus made his way to the ticket collection window while we waited patiently. And, patience was required on this occasion as it took some 45 minutes before Marcus finally emerged clutching his tickets triumphantly with not a small bit of relief etched across his face. It seems that there had been some considerable consternation - Marcus's receipt said 16 August and the attendant kindly and politely pointed out that this was Saturday the 18th . Now Marcus had, on previous e-mail exchanges, commented that one of his greatest fears was messing up the arrangements for Pete's trip to NYC – he had this recurring nightmare that Pete's trip would proceed flawlessly until he reached New York and somehow Marcus would conspire to blow it. We can only imagine the conversation which took place between the ticket agent and Marcus during those forty-five minutes as he was too traumatised to relate the full story to the rest of us (never mind the comments he must have received from all those waiting behind him in the ticket collection queue). However, our seats were finally secured and we settled down to a very good game which the Yankees won.

The game was a four o'clock kick-off so, afterwards we set off to dinner with – you guessed it, the Ryans, and Miles and Alexandra – at an outstanding Japanese restaurant on 79th between 1st and 2nd which was exquisite. I tell you, if you ever need dining advice in New York City contact Ching Ryan – her selections never fail to impress.

As if we hadn't eaten enough already, we all gathered again on Sunday morning for Dim Sum at the Jing Fong Restaurant in Chinatown where we met “Jennifer”, Ching's sister (her name is apparently unpronounceable by Westerners although I dare say Adam and Sugar could probably manage it), and her husband and daughter. This place is simply amazing. It is huge, roughly the size of a football pitch, I would imagine, and the food comes around on trolleys – whenever you see something you fancy you stop the trolley and ask the conductress to place some on the table. Your “ticket” then gets stamped with the relevant chop and about two hours later you roll out onto the sidewalk several tonnes heavier. This place is so popular that the queues stretch out onto the sidewalk and, as you can see, it seats hundreds!

At this stage Miles and Alexandra had to get back to their hotel as they were due to fly back to the West Coast that afternoon and we felt we had imposed on the Ryan's hospitality too much already (Jordy was due to fly back to Liberia on Wednesday) so we set off to entertain ourselves for the rest of the day. We took Steph's advice and, after some confusion as to where and how we could acquire tickets, we eventually found ourselves on an open top bus tour circumnavigating the Downtown loop. As Steph and Hope assured us, this was a very good way to see the city although I have to say we had a contrast in our two tour guides. The first was very entertaining – she was clearly an aspiring actress; the second could hardly string four words together. However, we did pass by the Lower East Side Tenement Museum which sounded interesting and for which we were able to book tickets for the following afternoon.

Monday morning we set off for a spot of shopping prior to our visit to the Tenement Museum. Macy's occupied forty-five minutes of our time and succeeded in providing not a single suitable item. As for me, I found a convenient seat while Ms Playchute meandered amongst the women and children's clothing. I have said this before and I am absolutely convinced it would be a huge success – shops which carry women's clothing should provide a comfortable seating area for the guys who accompany their wives and girlfriends. I am thinking a couple of comfortable sofas, newspapers and a jug of coffee, broadband wireless internet provision and a wide screen, high definition television tuned to ESPN. That way, the guys would happily sit for hours while their wives and girlfriends filled up their shopping trolleys. The shop would sell more and they guys wouldn't be trudging along behind their partners complaining and moaning and the women would not feel that they had to cut their shopping experience short in order to avoid an all out, drop down argument in the middle of the store. It's a no-brainer.

Our unsuccessful foray into Macy's meant that we had to sprint to get to the Tenement Museum by the time on our tickets. After getting lost and sprinting straight past the entrance on two occasions, we finally found our way and arrived only five minutes late – the guide was still providing the tour members with a list of “do's and don'ts” so we hadn't missed anything.

The museum was fascinating ( http://www.tenement.org/ ). The tenement was built in 1863 and was lived in until 1935. At any given time up to 110 inhabitants occupied 12 apartments with four outhouses at the rear – indoor plumbing didn't arrive until 1905 and even then, there were only two on each floor servicing the needs of the occupants of four apartments. The inhabitants lived and worked (with outsiders coming in during the day) in three very small rooms. The museum has done nothing with the building other than to implement whatever improvements were required to meet current health and safety regulations and while it has undoubtedly deteriorated since it was lived in, the size of the three rooms hasn't changed. It is difficult for most of us to imagine those kind of cramped, crowded living conditions.

Monday evening we met up with the Ryans once again for more food – this time it was dinner at Taco Taco on 2nd Avenue between 89th and 90th, an excellent Mexican restaurant. The strawberry Margaritas were outstanding and Pen's coconut Margarita was similarly delicious. The food was sensational (well, it was certainly the best Mexican food I have had in a very long time) and I had the largest burrito known to the civilised world which flopped over the edges of a seriously large plate.

And so finally, to our final day in the city. Tuesday morning we travelled out to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens which were outstanding even taking into account the fact that it was raining constantly. The Bonsai were outstanding, some of them well over a hundred years old and the gardens were fabulous - on a fine sunny day they must be stunning. The whole place was very well documented and very well maintained.

After the Gardens we trundled back into Manhattan to search for some gifts for the girl and her mother who looked after Molly in our absence. Of course, gifts were completely unnecessary as the joy of baby-sitting our pedigree pup was reward enough. Still, Ms Playchute felt a token of appreciation would be appropriate and who am I to argue. Macy's clearly had not provided the inspiration she was seeking so, having quizzed Juliet the evening before as to where to buy some appropriate apparel for a girl her age, we set off to the American Eagle emporium just off Union Square . Thirty minutes later we emerged with but a top for Polly as well as the location of the nearest Old Navy outlet. Up to 18th and 6th we trudged, umbrellas turning inside out on several occasions, and into the cavernous warehouse.

Old Navy, of course, has clothing to suit all ages and sizes; the American Eagle had nothing for anyone over the age of 16, I would guess so neither Ms Playchute nor I were in the least bit distracted by the opportunities it provided. Old Navy was a different kettle of fish and so, as well as searching for something for Polly, Ms Playchute was also distracted by the potential of purchasing something for herself.

So, why is it good to be a guy? Within three minutes I had made my selection – two shirts – while Ms Playchute wandered through the women's section and the kids section picking items up and comparing their colours. The great thing about being a guy? No need to worry about whether the colours go together or whether the style suits – everything goes with anything and who cares about the style? An hour later, Ms Playchute had also acquired something for herself and a few items for Polly so all was well with the world.

The flight home was fine, the only snag being the two hours we sat on the tarmac because (a) the conveyor belt loading the luggage was playing up and (b) because of that we missed our departure slot and had to join an enormous queue of planes waiting to depart. Still, Ms Playchute snored contentedly for three hours while I watched Spiderman III (not very good – you know what it's going to be about from the title) and Waitress, a delightfully good film about a woman who bakes sensational pies – if you get the chance, watch it.

And so, back to the grind. It was fantastic fun to see everyone and to be able to enjoy the paradise that is Lake George once again. Until the next time....

All our love,

Greg

There was this man who, many years ago, worked for a large business. That was his lifetime employment, but he wasn't happy there. He wanted to go in business for himself. He saved his money and finally had enough that he could quit and start his own business.

About two years later, I was on vacation and was going through the town where his business was located. I stopped by for a visit. "Hey John, I heard that the first year is the hardest for a new business."

"Yeah, the first year was pretty rough, but we are doing pretty good now. In fact, I'm getting to where I only have to work half a day."

"Wow, that's pretty nice. Maybe I should think about going into business for myself."

"Yeah, and the nicest part of it is that it doesn't matter which twelve hours you work."

A Greek and an Italian were drinking coffee one day discussing who had the superior culture.

Over triple lattes the Greek guy says, "Well, we have the Parthenon".

Arching his eyebrows the Italian replies, "We have the Coliseum."

The Greek retorts, "We Greeks gave birth to advanced mathematics."

The Italian, nodding in agreement, says, "But we built the Roman Empire."

And so on and so on until the Greek comes up with what he thinks will end the discussion. With a flourish of finality he says, "We invented sex!"

The Italian replies, "That is true, but it was the Italians who introduced it to women."

One day a travelling salesman was driving down a back country road at about 30 mph when he noticed that there was a three-legged chicken running alongside his car.

He stepped on the gas but at 50 miles per hour. The chicken was still keeping up. After about a mile of running the chicken ran up a farm lane and into a barn behind an old farm house.

The salesman had some time to kill so he turned around and drove up the farm lane. He knocked at the door and when the farmer answered he told him what he had just seen.

The farmer said that he was a geneticist and had developed this breed of chicken because he, his wife and his son each like a drumstick when they have chicken and this way they only have to kill one chicken.

"That's the most fantastic thing I've ever heard," said the salesman. "How do they taste?"

"I don't know," said the farmer. "We've never caught one."

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