New York New York – always there in black and white.

Call me old-fashioned but I love New York – I’m not sure why I am saying this today but, hey, I’ve said it now. I woke up this morning thinking of the music of George Gershwin and the famous and romantic kissing photograph by Alfred Eisenstadt. I don’t know why but I did.

Call me old-fashioned, oh, you already did, but I am still a sucker for all that Manhattan romantic stuff and after many visits, I still think it might be my favourite city…well one of them at least – don’t get me started on lists.

From my very first visit I was hooked on that heady mix of romance and yes, danger – excitement is the word I was looking for – it thrilled me then and does to this day. I don’t know why I am saying this today but there you go.

New York was always in modern colour when I have been there and I know it has changed a lot over the years but there are too many vivid images in black and white for me not to carry a monochrome mental photograph album of the place somewhere just believe the surface of my subconscious.

Even when it wasn’t there, I saw edginess, possibilities and forbidden territories and I was always tempted to go just one street too far for a nice English boy.

I couldn’t go on the subway without a gruffily American accent playing an internal commentary in my brain, egging me on, challenging me to go too far – maybe because in New York, I thought I could be just anyone I wanted to be.

I could vanish into the crowd like nowhere else. Not always feeling safe but never feeling sorry to be there.

I was there this morning but don’t ask me why – I am there for a while almost every day…..

…even if no one notices.

There is nothing else for it, I feel Gershwin coming on – Gershwin, Woody Allen and Manhattan but if that isn’t enough wonderment for you, then after that, of course, Ella Fitzgerald singing Rodgers & Hart.

OK, do it again – just call me old-fashioned.

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