My flat

What’s that you say? You want to see what my flat looks like? Oh go on then.

Well for starters, here’s the building it’s in – my apartment is about halfway up.

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It’s HUGE particularly considering the block is as central as it could be without being the Times Square tkts booth.

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I’ve never used the sitting room. It’s too big for me and I can’t cosy up on leather. But the sitting room has floor to ceiling windows leading out to a balcony and every night when I turn my key, before I turn on the light, I always catch my breath when I check the view of the city. It’s New York straight from Central Casting – all water towers, fire escapes, brown brick and metal and glass structures that reach right up to the clouds.

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I was Sleepless in New York at first. I had been warned that it’d be loud in the flat but I didn’t believe it. People live in these blocks full-time, there must be triple glazing? But there isn’t. It’s so loud you can’t believe it it at first. The night I arrived, I was horrified to hear what I thought was the sound of someone committing suicide by jumping off a building, a human wail that pitched, as, I thought, the person fell. I sat in bed with my unpacked suitcase beside me, eyes goggling, as the sound repeated every hour or so. Truly it was a couple of days before I realised that the eerily human sound was a police car siren.

I’ve since bulk-bought ear plugs – joy! – and a sleep mask – double joy, those city bright lights are nothing if not bright – and I’ve found sweet sweet sleep again.

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I’ve discovered, too, that I have no motivation for keeping fit. I have a glorious gym in my basement, complete with a swimming pool, sauna, steam room and more machines than I would know how to use. Yet in 3 weeks I’ve been twice. TWICE. For 15 minutes each time. I only have to take a lift down a few floors, they provide clean towels, water with fruit in it (you don’t get water with fruit in it at Fitness First) and I still can’t bring myself to go. My poor 72-year-old marathon running father. I am a disappointment.

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My neighbour is The Walter Kerr theatre, which is home to The Heiress and a mad, long line of Jessica Chastain/Dan Stevens autograph hunters at the stage door every night. All around me are theatres and musicals – it took me five minutes to walk to Avenue Q last week.

The pay-off for all this is that my nearest shops are M&Ms World and Hershey World. Which I think must be the American equivalent of the Aberdeen Angus Steak House. WHO GOES IN? Someone needs to carry out an investigation.

But that’s a small fry trade-off. It may not be the West Village but it’s New York right to the very heart of it, with all its noise and lights and theatre. And for now, it’s home.

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8 thoughts on “My flat

  1. Wow! I’m imagining I’ll be living in a studio in Brooklyn… aiming high right there. 🙂 That’s a fab place, lucky you.

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