5th Columnist

I take no responsibility for the words below, submitted anonymously:
Fifth Columnist
When husbands are 'scratchy' it is best to leave them alone. It began with the phone that Rose had thoughtfully forwarded and though Rob reasonably quickly mastered the basics, such as accessing and calling, techno lad had to do more. And when technology is not intuitive, then my dear partner of decades does. I must say in all honesty, become a tad tetchy which I call scratchy. And so as we woke to another blue sky day, having forgotten to sedate the husband, I found myself marshalled and hurried to leave, though I resisted until 10. The plan, traverse the park to the Met and pick up the last of our bus tours, the Uptown Line. And so we ventured forth in to the chill of the morning and the Rambles (the well named path) where we met park officials on horseback, chatted in a relaxed manner with them and surprisingly arriving easily at our destination.
All was well –
The Metropolitan Museum was exceptional. We bargained for entry, paying for one not two, which we thought quite reasonable as we would admit Americans for free in ours. And off we went, techno lad still fighting with the phone, which for some reason would not allow him to access the audio guide he had down-loaded. It was probably about now that he did admit that perhaps, he should have read the manual. However, easily his frustration was eased as we explored the abundance of treasures this gallery holds. It is extraordinary, for all the periods, vast array of cultures it represents. I particularly enjoyed, the Japanese and Indian rooms but they did leave me feeling abashed for the little I know of their culture and beliefs. If only we could spend our lives reading and learning, instead of working. And so hours passed and we roamed and read and enjoyed.
And then the glitch
My Southern Hemisphere Geo-centric Travelling Companion responding to all the intuitive codes and clues stored throughout his 55 years of life, had misread the map and placed us on the wrong side of Central Park. Though I should whisper this, for it had only been the day before that I had suggested turning right not left and taken us 10 blocks in the wrong direction. However, this was to be Rob’s day for a comedy of errors. Having mastered Central Park, and with confidence we turned once more for a crossing. For those who have meandered through this park, sympathy for us will be felt. The path The Rambles is well named, all paths are circuitous and have a sense of serendipity about them, as we were to find…. But the sun was warm and so we ventured forth, and forth, and forth … eventually finding the landmark we needed The Natural Museum, and thus we emerged exhausted but correctly aligned for The Uptown Tour through Harlem which Rob has spoken of and so I will move to the evening and my abandonment on The Subway.
This brought back memories of 1980m when Rob had abandoned me for hours in Delphi as he chased the bus that had both brought us to this wonderful Grecian hillside village and sped away with our backpack containing our camera. And so I had waited patiently, resolutely for his return with only crusty bread, a canteen of water and two heavily laden packs for company. And then again in London, on the subway when he jumped at the last moment through closing doors onto the train and the doors closed leaving me dejected and alone on the platform.
And now I will right of New York as we bustled towards our River Night Cruise, I was delayed. I belive it to be another conspiracy against left handers, as the Subway only provides swiping on the right. I swiped, I swiped, I swiped, I sought to go through the door but it was locked, with fading heart I tried once more and finally “Go” I was through. Descending the stairs I searched for my faithful companion – but without even the slightest glance over his shoulder to detect my presence he had leapt fearlessly aboard a departing train. And so I was left. Of course, what had been impossible in the 1980’s had because of the phone that Rob now carried (note irony) meant contact was possible. Have you ever tried to speak to someone on a mobile, while announcements are constantly resounding, trains are rumbling and buskers are busking. Add to that hearing which is rapidly deteriorating and we have an impossible situation. Fortunately, Rob heard I will meet you at 42nd St. And having heard it, decided it would be best for him to disembark his train at 66th and jump on the one following and there we would be reunited but as they say, the best laid plans …..
For I had boarded n express – it did not stop at 66th but whisked me straight to 42nd . On arrival, I messaged Rob, SW exit near Mary Poppins and so once again I waited, contemplating the evening ahead – perhaps dinner, a show, a return to the hotel, an evening drawing …. It seemed to open endless possiblities, especially as I could not remember the pier from which we were due to leave. Alas for Rob, anxiety rising, unable to see me at 42nd, not able to phone me for some inexplicable reason on the new phone, worried for his wife alone in NY, he sought contact through a third party and so turned to Rose, in New Orleans to message me. And so eventually as Rob stood on the diagonal exit, he spied me with Mary and crossed apologetically to my side. As always, silence is golden and the imperative was to reach the Pier and cruise – time was short, the blocks were young, most of the taxis were running the wrong way – until finally, a stray – and we were in – and after the initial language confusion and frustration (two nations separated by a common tongue, sort of thing) we sped towards and miraculously reached our ship and felt, that after all, all is indeed well that ends well, and the night lights of NY were beautiful.
Too many photos later, a subway trip and short walk with a very solicitous husband at my side we returned for rest, late supper take out and a much welcomed glass of red

Location:New York