Live From New York, it’s Thursday night…

19 01 2012

I don’t drink coffee I take tea my dear, I like my toast done on one side,
And you can hear it in my accent when I talk,I’m an Englishman in New York

See me walking down Fifth Avenue, A walking cane here at my side,
I take it everywhere I walk, I’m an Englishman in New York

I’m an alien I’m a legal alien, I’m an Englishman in New York.
I’m an alien I’m a legal alien, I’m an Englishman in New York

Confession time. I have been dying to write these lyrics on this blog.

But I live just south of Boston, come to the Big Apple on an infrequent basis and, when I do, sitting down with the laptop is frowned upon by she-who-I-obey.

So this is the first time in over two years that I find myself sitting alone in the city that never sleeps with the chance to write about being an Englishman in New York.

I don’t have a walking cane, I have no real feelings about toast, am not intending to walk down Fifth Avenue and I drink more coffee than tea these days.

But I am a legal alien.

And that is enough of a connection for me to write this short post. Before I head into Brooklyn to see a punk band from Boston.

Thank you, New York, you’ve been great!

And, yes I know, that is Sting – that is kind of the point.