We so enjoyed Roman Holiday in Bryant Park last week that on Monday night we decided to return. We had no idea what film was playing, but it's the kind of cool place that will always be showing something either totally unheard of and weird and amazing, or a complete classic, and either one seemed good. Plus, the amazing setting and fun of a picnic (I am actually obsessed with picnics. I do not know why, but I love them. At every opportunity, I want to have a picnic) mean that even if you do hate the film, it wont be a bad evening.
Unfortunately, however, the weather decided to conspire against us. We arrived early in order to nab a good spot (and have a picnic, obvs) but just twenty minutes before the film was due to begin it started to rain. Us being the hardy British girls that we are weren't perturbed. All my childhood summer holidays were spent sitting on a cold beach in England, resolutely refusing to be beaten by anything as irrelevant as a spot of driving rain. So we huddled under our umbrella and scorned at all the soft Americans hurriedly folding their picnic blankets and running away.
But then the rain got distinctly heavier and the thunder started and with it our hardy Brit-Gal attitude began to soften, so that when a lightening bolt scarred the sky and there were puddles forming in our laps, even we had to admit that maybe it was time to go home. We gathered up our stuff and left, but having done the classic British thing of, in the midst of a torrential downpour, optimistically believing that it would clear up in two minutes, when we did, finally, admit defeat, we, and all our possessions, were really very wet.
The weather had beaten us.
Yes, we are ashamed. We hang our heads. We have let our country down.
But moving on; we returned home and got dry and stopped looking like bedraggled rats. We even managed to skype some friends because it was still early enough that it wasn't actually four in the morning back home.
They were at a party, but put us on video so that we could make an appearance because, obviously, a party isn't a party without our presence and we were clearly being greatly missed. No show without Punch.
It all got a bit raucous and we couldn't really hear what was being said, apart from every now and then someone telling everyone else to err, put it in polite terms, go away. So we decided that maybe skyping at a party doesn't work that well and so we said our farewells.
Then we finished off our picnic sitting cross legged on Rain's bed and laughed until our tummies hurt.
