16~Worldwide With the Wilsons: Sri Lankan Henchmen and Much More

Lydia Wilson and I have known each other for 21 years and I have been lucky enough to be welcomed into the entire Wilson family from the off. Lyd has been a bit of a globetrotter in our 20's but has always gravitated back home for short and long periods of time. Often the premise of homesickness; holidays; study time, study breaks and study meltdowns (that PhD was a nasty one) have been the main magnets drawing her back to Hull. We cleared a drawer in my Princess Pad for her to keep a set of pajamas in. She would visit during her PhD and we would get a pot of Jasmine Green Tea and head to bed, in PJ's, to assist her recuperation process. Hull seems to provide that calm. A sanctuary for former permanent habitants; I know Steph and Adam feel much the same as Lyd about returning to their Hull family and setting. (They fight over the Princess room in Westbourne Ave and Steph says that a weekend back home is like Rehab, but with wine.)

So I have many fond memories from my teens, 20's and 30's of time spent at the Wilson household. Lyd does not have to be in Hull for Stephanie and Peter (her parents) to send out an invite for dinner. Stephanie Wilson is my favourite cook in the whole world (her only rival has been the lady who made me a papaya salad for 40p on a beach in Koh Samui) and having dinner with an array of guests is always a treat! Just 3 years ago I joined the entire Wilson gang for Boxing Day. It was Lyd's turn to rescue me- I had been dumped on Christmas Eve (though not realising I had; I was so festively plastered that I failed to clock the missing belongings and returned door key on the kitchen side). Lyd sipped a very early, very large Buck's Fizz with me on Christmas morning in true Princess support, watching Adam and I open our presents at Mama Wolff's, we discussed the night before, analysing the lead up to the dumping. The Wilsons wished to provide me with a welcome distraction and invited me for their Boxing Day affair. Adam was heading back to Bristol Boxing Day morning so I could not rely on his commiserations and comfort (admittedly he may be the one to call, girls, in moments of broken hearts he provides crap films; chocolate; wine; kind words; a big bear shoulder to cry on- this is not a one off either, he has had to deal with Steph and I on a number of occasions), it was our first Christmas without Steph as she had stayed down South and Richard and Mama Wolff had already done their fair share of waiting on me hand and foot, entertaining my misery and rejection. So Boxing Day at the Wilson's was perfect- it would get me out of the house too. It was such a snowy winter that year. Lyd and I walked around the block and the emotion of the day gone by seemed held in the air, frozen in time, in the inertia that the festive period can pertain.

The stillness and sad wintry spell was immediately broken by the bustling house full of Wilsons! A wonderfully delicious meal we had! Lyd and I perched on the ottoman, the hubbub of the kitchen aglow with Christmas. We were not quite relegated to the kitchen floor with Milo and Eddie (Lyd's nephews) but perched on our makeshift table, the kitchen ottoman. We had a great time, devouring food, having exchanges with the grown up table but more dialogue with the two boys on the floor. They ate like Roman kings and asked us to tickle their throats with a feather in order for them to be sick so they could start again feasting. Lyd is the youngest amongst her siblings and somehow we always become the silly teenagers once again when we are together. Stephanie will never let us wash up or do anything, sending us off "because young girls are meant to have frivolous fun!"At the recent poetry reading in New England, a colleague of PG was studying us intently. She was discussing the novel she had just written, the basis being two childhood girl friends. She then asked how long we knew had known each other for. She supposed 6. We burst out laughing and wondered, because of the way she had examined us, as if discovering the spirit of our connection and beginnings of our friendship, that we were acting this age!!! We thought that actually it was pretty possible and we may have to check ourselves as we were attending a civilised and intellectual event. So Lyd and I together, as the spoilt children, in the nest of the Wilson family, is entirely familiar and being in New York to share time was an extension, a new slant on times shared.

Lydia and I LOVING the Children's Book Exhibition in the NY Public Library- a bit too much?

White blooms against the dark branches with an NY skyline- beautiful 

Here are some of the things we enjoyed during Stephanie and Peter's time here: a meet in the Hungarian Pastry Shop where a good friend of Lyd's from Cambridge joined us (he happened to be here on a conference and decided to turn it into a bit of a jolly, Lyd says he is the cleverest person she knows- this is quite shocking as I didn't know people get smarter than her and this was exemplified by Steph's reaction on Skype: "That must be reaaaaaallllll smart..." ); Thai food in Queens; the blossom on the trees; the Children Exhibition in the Public Library; dinner with Sabir and Anna Alaszewski; a walk along the High Line; a night at the opera; homework club in the Bronx; a diner brunch; searching for cinnamon TicTacs and micro-fibre cloths (gifts Stephanie wanted to take back to England); noodles and spinach dumplings on Broadway; an afternoon at the United Nations; sitting around in PJ's, reading and chatting; Lyd and I on temporary beds; Lyd and I as the children and also the adults- our sleepover makeshift style in the living room and the parents in the bedroom and then also with some arm bending, we treated the parents to breakfast and a dinner and also acted as their guides around NYC. The only thing not enjoyed on all sides is to do with a mouse. A bold, bold villain in Stephanie's words. As much as I do not want to devote time and effort of the written word to the mouse, it is such a story, he will have to have a stand alone entry. Hell, Lyd slept with the him (I will never forget her incredulity and loud screech: "I SLEPT WITH A MOUSE!") and we gave him the whole run of her pretty spacious, rent controlled Upper West Side apartment, so why not write an ode to the little bugger?

View from the entrance of the U.N- a little ominous (befitting for the story)

Here is a little more on some of what we enjoyed (mouse free):

The U.N was quite an experience. Not at all what we had anticipated. Lyd had a meeting with the Sri Lankan Ambassador following an an alumni event a couple weeks back. The results of the dinner event was quite unexpected and interestingly fortuitous. She had been reading a book called "Lords of Poverty" and I had to interrupt her to see if she was okay because she looked so in pain while reading- turns out that this book highlights the corrupt nature of the United Nations. For example: Princess Smartypants went to this gathering, armed with her book in her handbag, not intending to use it as a weapon but as her read on the subway. Lyd said she somehow managed to insult people left right and centre. She wielded the book at one point, potentially insulted a founder of the Quartet (a conflict resolution group)  and supposed the Sri Lankan Ambassador to be the Ambassador of Bangladesh. But her princess-like demeanour, great humour and razor sharp intellect (you can see why everyone that meets her is immediately enamoured) managed to get her a lunch date with the Ambassador, a private spy (she thinks), and a new friend that lives across the road, who just happens to work for Google. This means a potential coffee at the Google canteen. Correction, not a canteen, a coffee lab. With its very own barista. Cooool. Coffee is one of the struggles here (it is generally not good but more about that another time). Lyd tells me that Google is notorious for its amazing attitude to employees; they are entrusted to work their own hours and have toys at the office because that’s how the Google bosses think people will have the most creative ideas. Opposite to the nature of education in Britain at the moment, where you feel under surveillance, patrolled. Which in turn does allow for that insidious paranoia of being incompetent, or at least never being good enough. Pretty rubbish really. But Google, that is pretty interesting and wow, that canteen sounds awesome! A hell of a lot better sounding than the U.N cafe that Peter, Stephanie and I experienced. (Lyd, mental note, get a lunch date with our Google neighbour, so I can tag along.)

We took our passports downtown, our only preparation for entering the U.N. Lyd's lunch was scheduled for 1:15 and for once we were early. Getting in the building was not what Lyd had predicted or recollected form her last trip here. She had a lovely visit; she had showed her passport, looked at the Chagall Window; drank coffee in the cafe which overlooked the River; visited the gift shop where she discovered the U.N had their very own stamps and postal service. I remember her telling me this a few years ago, how she sat down and went crazy writing cards because she was so very excited by it! So while she had a different agenda today, Stephanie, Peter and I intended to reenact her last trip here to the letter. No sweat.

This was not the case. There were hitches from the start. We were passed back and forth two security gates with contradictory information until Lyd bit the bullet and called the Ambassador. He would send someone to meet us. We waited, refugees, as U.N workers went on their lunch breaks, seamlessly through security. Anticipation plastered across our faces meant that everyone exiting was looking at us, almost like they wanted to be helpful. How would the people the Ambassador sent know it was Lydia? We were the only people stood looking denied, I guess. A man appeared from the lunchtime crowd and showed Lydia a post it with "Lydia" written on it, and a second beckoned her towards the security gate for cars. We all followed like sheep, Lyd with more purpose- it was her name after all on the paper. The suited men opened a fancy car door (do not ask me what make, but long, big and black) that stood at the opening security gate. "Lydia get in, I can get you in easier this way." The Ambassador apparently. The post it was the Golden Ticket and Lyd quite literally spirited away. We are left with the smiling, suited Sri Lankan henchmen and getting into the U.N continues to be quite the palava. We are eventually allowed through, escorted by the Ambassador's men, whose English is not terribly great so we do suffer some communication difficulties. They think that we are to be taken to the Ambassador for lunch and are on the phone to him. And that we are to be taken to Lydia. No, no! We try to explain our humble plan of wanting to go to the cafe and the gift shop to write postcards. Eventually, we accept these men as our escorts, fearing that we are wasting their time, because we have no other choice and we are here now. The henchmen take us to hand over our passports and we have temporary ID's printed out. We are starving and we head to the cafe, our escorts wait outside. The canteen is disappointing, we are hot and bothered and eat hot soup quickly. Not a good combo!  We are befuddled by the security necessity and we see one henchman entering the canteen and signalling to the other that he has found us. Devoting their time to babysit us and what now seems like an incredibly frivolous plan... it almost seems embarrassing! We manage to shake them by going to the end of the line: the gift shop.

I look relaxed but I the post box is perfect propping height!

Buying the stamps and postcards is even onerous. I guess the guy behind the till is new and I try to just be as zen as I can, but the gross taste of minestrone soup, the heat of it in my belly mixed with the movements of being shifted from pillar to post is not halcyon making. Stephanie and I wearily plonk ourselves down at a table to write. Immediately we are hounded by a volunteer that is trying to tell us about how we could get U.N stamps printed with our own faces on them. It only takes three minutes and our loved ones are sure to be thrilled. We both cut him dead. It is too much. We feel hassled, that we have been a hassle and that we need no further hassling!!!!!

What my stamp could have looked like...

We rebuild our strength. Then we remember Lyd. With that Jack Bauer exit we hope she will resurface. Of course she does, a whirlwind of energy and excitement- we are no longer so languid and perk up even more to see our girl. We all have a story to tell. (Although, firstly Lyd and I decide to address the U.N together with a policy entitled 'Princess Power'. Suddenly the personalised stamps seem to be a very good idea.)

Lyd guiltily described her delicious lunch, a top class affair snaffled around an interesting discussion and points on which she needs to ponder. Tell me more Lyd! She says everyone that served them at their table addressed The Ambassador as 'Your Excellency' and also that she had never had red snapper quite so excellent. We fail to see the window- the visitor's centre is actually being renovated and hence the very different memory that Lyd has about her visit. When we collect our passports we ask if we can retain our temporary IDs as a keepsake. The lady says not really but she is going to let us, that we are always welcome at the U.N, and of course to "Have a nice day!" Stephanie has to confess how lovely that is because we this very moment is the only instance that we have felt welcome and not like a potential security threat. Our experience was very much the opposite of serenity, peace and the general attitude we expected of unity (it is called the United Nations, after all).

Reunited as a group, however, we spirited ourselves back to the NY Public Library where we need more time at "The abc of it: why Children's books matter" exhibition. We walk past what I recognise as the Superman building. Lydia is sure that is where Anna works. It is. We app her and coerce her to leave her office and join us for a coffee. Lyd says that this is so un-NYC; that it never seems this neighbourly. That big city life where spontaneous meets and hang outs can be so precious because they are a rarity.

All offices should have a huge turning globe in the entrance

Our next stop for our evening entertainment is Roulette, a theatre in Brooklyn. Here we will meet Tosh and we will watch some American Modern Ensemble and Opera Projects. So although this event is scheduled and not impromptu, the feeling of worldwide friends and family brought together is unique and intimate. The connection is that Tarik O'Regan, Lyd and Tosh's pal from back at Cambridge, has composed 'The Wanton Sublime' (the first modern opera we will watch). I say connection because Tarik's involvement is what has brought us here; I do not believe that there is a strong love of modern opera amongst our group. In fact Tosh and I meet for food in Central Park a few days before and he tells me that he expects to hate every second of it.

'The Wanton Sublime' is actually pretty impressive and (thankfully for me who does not totally love it) only 30 minutes long. Lydia, who does have a musical background is massively impressed by the piece. Tarik has great credentials as I learn from the programme. Reading the synopsis also helps me to appreciate the meaning behind the piece. Tosh, who does not mince his words, say he feels like he has been crucified and Stephanie is impressed by the musical score but grateful for the subtitles. Tosh soon retracts his words, because the second half, a separate opera entirely is so offensive to both him and Lyd, that it makes him recognise the beauty and intelligence in 'The Wanton Sublime'. The second opera is called 'The Companion' and I am pretty shocked as I read out the plot summary to Stephanie. It seems rather a despicable plot/premise on which to compose an opera. I have to share the first part of it:"Maya is a single executive with a cozy house in the suburbs. Each day she comes home to Joe, her biomorphic android Companion. Joe looks, sounds and feels human- only better. They've been together six months. But Maya feels like she's not getting the best out of Joe: he's acting glitchy and distant. She wants an upgrade." Completely incongruous with opera, in my (very) humble and (very) ignorant opinion. Needless to say, our party could all agree that it seemed odd to hear the android character operatically singing about Maya's beautiful foot arches and moving on to robotically relaying his day: "The alarm went off at 7:45, we made love, position 34, 8:00 I did the dishes and vacuumed, you went to work, I dusted and made your favourite: vegetarian lasagna...". At points it does make Stephanie and Peter laugh out loud and I did twice but eventually I am too bewildered to even react. It is pretty ridiculous. There is an Oprah style Q&A session with the composers, directors and creators of both operas, and it leads Tosh to say that really 'The Companion' is a result of two dirty old men into Science Fiction. 'The Companion' is actually the second act of an opera triptych- the other two feature a dominatrix and a masquerade party for erotically adventurous couples. Hmmmmmmmmm. My highlight was that we were allowed to bring take out food in to the theatre. That is so NY. We were hungry (Lyd ashamed to admit it after her feast with the Ambassador) and we were running out of time to eat. Lyd and I grabbed middle eastern affair while the parents got the seats and we had a theatre picnic of falafel, tabolueh, salad and pitta pizza, much to the envy of other audience members. I feel that had there been a calorie crisis while watching this modern opera, it may have led to unseasonal theatre behaviour- it would have not been at all princess-like.

Lyd refers to me as 'The Princess' when she talks to her parents and I fall asleep on Stephanie and Peter's last night here. I can hear Lyd and her mama cleaning the fridge, I drift off on the airbed, Peter is typing at the table. They are discussing the schedule for the last day. Lyd: Well, the Princess may need to go to yoga. Stephanie: Well, I want to stay nearby. Shopping is the priority, Lydia. Cinnamon tictacs are continuing to elude me. I call out( muffled and sleepy): I don't have to go to yoga, I want to spend the last day with you guys. Stephanie: Oh, Jessica. That is very nice. Peter, have you got that lamp on? That is much too bright for poor Jessica! Peter: Oh yes, the poor princess. I am sorry. Lyd: Is this mouse poo?? I HATE THE MOUSE! It goes on and I fall asleep, I know with a little smile as I listen to the Wilsons and their midnight dialogue. Peter too calls me Princess, although once called me Lyd's 'noddle friend' and was then terribly apologetic because he is such a gent! I love the way Stephanie calls me Jessica. I love the endless conversations and flitting between subjects. 

We have a lovely last day. We walk along the high line:

WE finish off with a debrief of the New York adventures over a diner brunch:

When we get the bags onto Broadway and hail a cab, Stephanie and Peter are bundled in. Lyd is starting to cry. My eyes well up too and I hug my friend. My mum was crying, Lyd said. She doesn't like that I live here, that I live so far away. I feel like we are 6 years old. We walk back down the street, both a little deflated- it feels a wrench from the family nest. Lyd is fatigued and recovering from a headache and a little heartache now. I suggest she lies down and we take a some time. But, unfortunately our princess recovery time is not to be. This is when Lydia realises that she has, indeed, slept with a mouse. Time for action against this deviant... I guess he wanted in on the Worldwide with the Wilsons family time? And it was so awesome, so lovely and special, I guess I cannot really blame him.

From being escorted around the U.N by Sri Lankan Henchmen to sitting around in our pajamas reading and supping coffee, worldwide adventures with the Wilsons will hold a very special place in my worldwide tales. Being in the familiar family nest is just what I needed too, perfect to feel so homely before a nomadic, solitary trek (well greyhound and train- I am aware this sounds like I may be sledding and the such) across Canada in May and June. Summertime inVancouver will be back in the bosom of the Burritts. Snuggling into that nest is so special; immersed in nostalgia, childhood joy, friendship and love.

Thank goodness for all the lovely people we connect with in our lives; the never ending puzzle of friendship, family and beautiful times shared. One lucky princess I am. I feel privileged to have had my very own Worldwide Wilson experience.