Well, we finally hit the big smoke and was it ever. Cough, cough - Eh, which way to 14th street Mac. Actually, what really happened was on arriving at the airport, we tried to ring Barry Smotroff again. We had already tried to ring him from Washington before we boarded. Still no answer. Shriek, quiver and goosebumps. H E L P ? Who else do we know the telephone number and address on in this Gaddamn city. Meanwhile poor Barry is submerged in 3ft of water in the subway. No, not really, but he was prevented from getting home by a flash flood which struck us as being very strange. But, then New York is a strange place, even if it is irresistible. So, there we are, just us and our luggage, and all of New York. Gripping our luggage, scrunched up near a telephone and going flick, flick, flicky through our little black book, we find the number of the Unlikely Lady. Ring Ring Ring, ahh, sigh, etc., it answers. Where are you, oh La Guardia, stay there, be out in a minute. Asenath Hammond to the rescue. Being niave Aussles, we thought that Asenath was going to zip over in her little white T to collect us. Future shock, it appears that anyone owning a car in New York is either filthy rich or mad. Asenath came and we all went by cab, the fare to us seeming absolutely astronomical. I thought he should have paid us danger money for riding with him. His automatic window had decided it didn't want to be automatic so, he tells me to give it a bit of a push, but to mind my fingers. I guess he didn't want to get his cab all messed up. So, when I couldn't do it, he trys, at the same time as driving of course. Maybe, they have special courses in Cabiture or something that teaches them to do two things at once. Having arrived at the flat, we goggle in amazement as Asenath proceeds to use four keys in all to get in. Four, unbelievable.