Homeward bound.

We're now homeward bound. The penultimate leg from DC to New York by train. The rolling stock has improved but the gloomy Amtrak waiting rooms haven't.  'The Font' wants to go and straighten a crooked picture and lamp but is persuaded that this is a job for someone else. It takes a pleasant but leisurely 3 1/2 hours to get to New York. In China it would take a third of that. America needs to invest in its railways.

En route to the station a quick trip to the National Arboretum to look at a plant 'The Font' wants to see in flower.

An apartment block in NY with two suits of armour outside.

Zana Hadid apartments by the latest section of the High Rise park. As soon as ( non-matching ) curtains are put up by their new owners they lose their magic.

The recently opened travel concourse at the World Trade Centre a stunning piece of architecture. It's fashionable to criticize it for being commercial - but it isn't. A sensitive addition to a difficult site.

A dinner in a restaurant that is hosting a Japanese boy band. We don't know who they are. We still don't. They eschew wine and drink cocktails and take photos of each course. This seems rather restrained behaviour for seventeen year olds. The worst aspect of their behaviour is a tendency to slouch.

The menu is prix fixe but the bill still leaves the space for a suggested 22% tip.

An interesting amuse bouche.

One of lifes great joys is the 7 am British Airways daytime flight from Kennedy to Heathrow. Breakfast on the plane,  a chance to read et voila ! you're there. On a good day and a strong jet stream 5 hours in the air. Almost no jet lag. Into London in time for dinner. Or, in our case, the last flight to Toulouse and a late pick up for Bob and Sophie. The first thing three young Americans on the other side of the aisle do when they get to their seats is take off their shoes and socks. They seem quite at ease with walking around bare foot. Angus thinks of the dangers of broken glass and who knows what else might lurk on a British Airways carpet. Another sign I've turned into my father.