Our last day in New York, and Mrs RM reckoned we should do a museum.
My idea of a museum is either a provincial town one like Crewkerne, packed with 1950s cereal packets, or a Modern Art gallery with exhibits made from broccoli.
But the Met it was.
I cannot begin to describe how brilliant the Met is.
Here’s a model of BRAPA crossing the Humber to tick off the Spider’s Web in Grimsby (1,500 BC).
and here’s more Dylan, from the Play It Loud guitar exhibition that Matt described as “amazing“. And it was.
Quite what James made of the styles on show in Camp was less clear.
The view from the top floor café was so good I accidentally tripped over the safety wire, nearly destroying The Planets.
Would I have been barred from America if I’d destroyed the planets ?
We managed 3 hours, had a hot dog outside and then Mrs RM and I left the boys while we headed off to Greenwich Village.
Prof Pie-Tin had given me a long list of must-see NY bars.
The Ear was the closest I got to a sense of being in a Proper Pub.
Tables you can sit at and just drink. Mexicans in hats. Screaming babies. Millennials drinking mineral water. And ears.
Oh, and Bass.
The plainest, and therefore the most exciting beer range of the trip, in the best pub. If it was in Manchester, it’s be the City Arms. Inadvisable but unmissable.
No wonder Mancs rate it so highly.
Keg Bass isn’t cask Bass, of course, but it’s still Bass.
Here’s the damage. In every sense.