Category Archives: Brooklyn

The Sound Of Buildings

Brooklyn, Design, Football, Pop Music, , , ,

I met up with my attorney on the street in TriBeCa the other day.

“Did you get a new haircut? I thought so. You’d fit right in here, or in the West Village.”

It’s noticeable that the people most likely to pigeon-hole this middle-aged Scottish man as a hipster (even if he didn’t use the actual epithet) are solicitous recreational therapists and lawyers from Long Island. Clearly, I’m more square than hip.

OK, that’s a bad angle.

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The Case Of The Peculiar Details

Art, Books, Brooklyn, Edinburgh, Mindfulness, Poetry, Relationships, Travel

My recent trip to Brooklyn wasn’t all the insides of courtrooms and the outsides of container terminals, oh no.

Sean Connery’s let himself go…

One day, Mrs Friendoftheblogpaul — who knows a good walk when she sees one — suggested we take a wander through Prospect Park and the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. Continue reading The Case Of The Peculiar Details →

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Secaucus

Brooklyn, Poetry, Pop Music, Reviews

As subscribers to the apoplectic.me Tiny Letter are aware, I left Scotland the day after the European Parliament elections for a trip to New York City.

Not New York City

Well, not exactly. Just as famous Americans like Justin Bieber, Pamela Anderson, Jim Carrey, Alanis Morissette, Neil Young, and Michael J. Fox aren’t American at all, a number of things dubbed as being from New York are from a different State altogether. The New York Giants, the New York Jets and the New York Red Bulls (née Metrostars) all play in New Jersey. Continue reading Secaucus →

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Who’s Afraid Of Americans?

Brooklyn, Edinburgh, Stroke

Beth and I were walking along Brooklyn’s Hicks Street on Monday. As we were poached by the early July heat, and boxed out by a solipsist and her two massive dogs, I was moved to remark: “I am regretting our move less by the hour.”

I’ve been much exercised by thoughts of national identity this week. It’s been increasingly needful that I remind myself of the mantra I deliver to self-satisfied Brits:

You’re talking about a country with the size and population of Europe. Everything’s here. The good and the bad.

Stroke Bloke contemplates having won the lottery of life

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