I'm not keen on the cold. I'm even less keen on the cold when the wind chill is factored in, exposing my sensitive nose to potential frostbite.
Thankfully I have discovered a proper Irish pub on Park Avenue. It is not dominated by flatscreen televisions showing Premiership football, food is cheaply available but not compulsory, and they have a Dublin barman who talks shoite but has wonky spectacles and ensures that your glass in replenished before you have to ask.
The dining concourse at Grand Central Terminal also provides welcome respite from the intolerable cold. I am firmly convinced that should heaven exist it will closely resemble this august institution where all manners of comestible from every corner of the globe may be purchased for remarkably few shekels. For the outlay of rather more shekels it is also possible to repast on top notch seafood at the Oyster Bar.
Cheers to Eleven Years
1 day ago