It’s cold. Minus 5 degrees celcius cold, with winds that T says “steal my air”. We have to allow an extra ten minutes to get the girls layered-up before school, and the doorman now gives a quick check in case I’ve forgotten to zip up B’s fancy 7am Enfant blanket again, before he shoulders the door to push against the wind.
One consequence of this cold snap is that my need for proper tea has doubled. Even headed home for 45 minutes the other day in order to make myself a cuppa before the afternoon school run. Which is NO JOKE in these temperatures, by the way.
Have found such a beautiful bookshop in Tribeca, it warrants a blog post all to itself. Called The Mysterious Bookshop, it only stocks crime, mysteries and thrillers. Floor to ceiling shelves, with those tempting old school wooden ladders on rails so you can reach the very top. There’s a huge section devoted to Sherlockiana (that’s Sherlock Holmes to you and me), and much of the stock is signed by the author. Continue reading “The Mysterious Bookshop”