January in New York

Cast-off Christmas trees, the remnants of December...

This is Atlantic Avenue, which we will cross in about half an hour, on our way to the Brooklyn Bridge, its mile-long passage over the East-River-which-is-a strait, and our progression to Chinatown. By the time we set foot on The Bowery below Canal we will have recovered from our breakfast of coffee and raisin challah bread and will be ready for dim sum. Juicy roast duck, steamed parsley, pea shoot. And the small roast pork buns. A tapioca-trapped egg custard for Vince, to end.

Then we will wander the streets, shouldering tourists and peering into bins of unidentifiable produce with wonderful textures and colours and doubtful smells. I will buy fruit and Vince will feel duty-bound to carry it. We will pass Columbus Park and see the vernal cherry and the old, old men playing music and the gambling around the small tables. We will make our way northwest to Broadway and Pearl River Mart to buy some more small China bowls, as we've broken several, recently. Then back south, to pick up accumulated mail from my post office box, and finally we'll dip back into the subway and ride home.

This will be Vince's weekend, as I ruined his Saturday by needing him to slave away at choosing and processing some extra images for The Book. His photos are just so good and it looks as though many of the double-page spreads that open each month will be his. I am very lucky. They capture the landscape of New York perfectly.

And that is the whole point.