Never easy. (I love that song. Best song on Around the Sun, by far. Not that that’s much of a competition.) Anyway, I am back from trip to NYC #3 – not a huge chance of me getting back there before I come home. (Which is like twenty days from now, yegods!) The god of industrial disputes seems to have heard my bitter rant about the stagehands’ strike, because it ended the day before I went to NYC. I saw two plays, to repent for my glut of musicals in September: The Farnsworth Invention, and Rock ‘n’ Roll.

The Farnsworth Invention was about the invention of electronic television and the battle over patents between boy genius Philo Farnsworth and RCA mogul David Sarnoff. The awesome Hank Azaria played Sarnoff and a rather brilliant young guy called Jimmi Simpson played Farnsworth (apparently he guest starred on 24 during Day Two – something about Jack and a severed head). It was funny and wordy and smart – well, ‘twas written by West Wing guy Aaron Sorkin, so that would follow. I got Hank’s autograph afterwards but not Jimmi’s. He was talking to his mates so I left him to it. But aww, he seemed to have come to the theatre on a skateboard. Or maybe he just thought it was a cool accessory.

Tom Stoppard’s Rock ‘n’ Roll made me wish I’d read up about Czech communism and 1970s prog rock before going to see it. I’m afraid too much of it went over my head. But it starred three wonderful actors: Brian ‘I played Daphne’s dad on Frasier to total perfection’ Cox; Sinead ‘my husband is so famous people don’t realise how frickin’ talented I am’ Cusack; and Rufus ‘nobody has prettier eyes than me, nobody!’ Sewell. Best line? Sinead Cusack, to a girl who’s flirting with Brian Cox: “Please don’t shag my husband until I’m dead, or I’ll shove this copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance up your rancid cunt.” It’d be almost worth having a love rival, just to say that line.

I kept seeing Irish people everywhere. Or rather, hearing. A woman behind me in the queue for the ticket booth, lamenting in a Cork accent that since Hairspray was sold out they’d have to content themselves with Mary Poppins. A Dub dissolving into giggles in Foot Locker: “Noo, I meant a UK size six!” And two elderly women at a nearby table in the restaurant, ordering one dessert and asking for two forks. Nobody says the word “forks” like an elderly Irish woman. The short O sound, the slight rolling of the R. I was weirdly thrilled to see all these people.

Now, some pictures! First, a scantily-clad cowboy playing guitar, whom I saw in Times Square on Friday. Remember, he was in the Guinness ad? I didn’t think he was real.

My signed-by-Hank playbill. It looks like ‘Hlk Az’.

My funky yellow Rock ‘n’ Roll mug atop my funky yellow Rock ‘n’ Roll playbill.

The view from the hotel room, 43 floors up. Yep, that would be the Twin Towers crater.