Having finally established with myself that it was, in fact, the weekend I took my time making some breakfast and getting myself organised. Then I took the bus to Central Park, but this time just to kick back and enjoy storytime. I know it's supposed to be for kids, but I enjoyed it there last week and with no other pressing engagements yesterday, I figured why not?
Though it doesn't really look like it here, the Hans Christen Andersen statue was in the shade yesterday and it was really beautiful just sitting back on a bench to enjoy some stories. Not having to think, not even having to pay attention - just letting the story wash over you. I really am such a big kid at heart. Again, like last week, this week's tales were not always G-rated and is it just me (in my advanced state of spinsterhood) but are there an alarming number of fairytales about needing to get married? Even in Thumbelina - the poor little darling was not even as big as her mother's finger, but she had offers of marriage from a mole AND a fairy king (both of which she was seriously considering). Interesting take-home message.
It was around this time that I noticed a scruffy, unwashed fellow had joined the storytime group. He stood about 6'1" and was dressed as a medieval wizard. In flip-flops. He had a stuffed dragon around his arm and I think he was vying for the kids attention. But children aren't stupid, as we all know - they can spot a crazy person when they see one, and so they kept their distance. No matter how good the man thought his costume was, the storytime lady told him he was scaring the children and he had to move along. So he tried to share his fantasy stories with her instead - she was not impressed.
The stories finished around noon and the crowd dispersed. I needed a coffee so I stopped by the Boathouse and then wound up back at Bethesda Fountain, which was now in full swing in terms of tourist numbers and trickling water. In the case of the latter, behold:
Pretty, no? What you can't tell from this picture is that just to the right of where I was standing, a busker was playing the saxophone. He was treating us all to songs from "The Wizard of Oz". I liked that very much.
Then, as often happens, the bubble burst and my stomach started to hurt again. I headed for home, stopping briefly to buy a sandwich to see if it would settle the pains. It didn't. Summer is the worst time to be feeling crummy, cause you know how beautiful it is outside and you know exactly what you're missing when you can't be part of it.