Today I say goodbye to this city which for the past decade has been my home. I look back down the years with fondness and can say truthfully that I have no regrets. To those who know me my decision to leave New York will undoubtedly come as a surprise. But those who know me well will surely recall my simple and oft-repeated dream of a quiet house in the country. Fortunately, Paul has the same dream and as neither of us believes in putting off till tomorrow what we can enjoy today, the time has come.

The actual packing up has proved more daunting than I thought. I write these words in a corner crammed with boxes, memories of a life well-lived all round me, and through the chaos there still resounds the twinkling laughter of jolly dinners with friends. The singing, the dancing. The days and nights of happiness I've known in this flat. But I've no time to stop and listen to these friendly ghosts. In no time at all strong men will arrive to load my every possession into their yawning trucks. Capable hands will strip these rooms of all my treasures and, one hopes, deliver them safely to that welcoming rambling house on a hill far, far away.

I know there are some who could never imagine me living in such seclusion, and some go so far as to make humourous conjectures of me driven mad in a world without bright yellow taxis and Barney's. Even Paul worries that I'll not be truly content unless Costume National introduce tailored field coats and sleek wellies into their collection (actually, he's more concerned that I'll take to skinning the area's wildlife and reptiles to add to my store of politically incorrect accessories). But I shall love my country life. I plan on being blissfully happy, and completely satisfied. So here's to a new beginning, and a promising future with someone I love.

As it happens I shall arrive in my new home on my birthday (Monday) and I can't think of a better way to celebrate.

JHP

It was nearly two in the morning when the tall slender man returned to the solitude of his New York apartment. It had been an emotional day and friends had sought to cheer him with dinner and drink. The hours sailed on companionably in their charming company, but his heart just wasn't in it and his thoughts were miles away. His goodbye, when it came, was marked by gratitude and tenderness and was nothing like the painful parting at the airport just a few hours earlier when waves of sadness had threatened to engulf him.

Having nothing better to do he put the kettle on. And while he listlessly drew on pyjamas and contemplated late night television, the man he loved slipped quietly into Britain.

A romantic getaway at a swanky hotel.
Somewhere along the eastern coast.

See you soon, darlings.
X

1. Go vintage.
Spend an entire week dressed exclusively in those things of yours that you've not worn in ages. Relive happy days and renew your fond friendship with shoulder pads, skinny trousers, leather neckties and other forgotten treasures. Modern accessories and an ironic pose will make it all so fresh and new.

2. Festoon your kitchen windows with trailing vines of ivy.
Ditch those dowdy cafe curtains and bring the garden indoors.

3. Add a bit of fun to your long-distance relationship by playing Yahoo Games online.
Literati is a good one and with Skype you can even talk to each other while you play.

4. Carry a flask (and use it).
Filled with whisky, a sunny disposition throughout the day is guaranteed. You'll add a bit of kick to your tea breaks and ward off that nasty winter chill. Choose a model small and thin enough to fit discreetly in your pocket or handbag. Tiffany offers a chic one in sterling silver and will even engrave your initials for that personal touch.

March 2006

Along the American southeast coast there was a wind whipping over plains and through trees. It came from the Atlantic to stir the sand of the beaches, the red clay of the roads, and to rattle the windows of the terraced houses that only a few years ago were built to border one of the finest golf courses in the world. But golfers are no fools, they know to stay indoors when a storm is brewing. The signs were unmistakeable. Sheets of rain began to fall, and from her own delicately-curtained windows a middle-aged woman peered out at the darkening afternoon sky and worried over her newly-planted hydrangeas. A few moments of spying on nature was enough excitement for the good lady and she returned to the sofa where flowers bloomed constantly, unaffected by wind or rain. Heroic mauve-coloured peonies stood out boldly against a beige background, and dotted round the room were filled vases of every shape and size to reinforce the garden theme. It was pleasant here, cheerful and calm, and she hoped they'd like it. She'd done her best. The guest room had taken nearly a week to transform into something more than just a storeroom for her summer clothes and bits of fabric she'd collected over the years. It was a comfortable room now and she was confident they'd have everything they'd need. Her son had always been fastidious and this time he was bringing his new boyfriend. Well, if they didn't like it, she was sure she'd hear about it.

On the other side of the Atlantic snow fell steadily over the landscape of Northern Ireland. The midnight air was bracing and eerily quiet, and no more so than in the mountains where a young handsome man lay unsleeping in his bed. How could he sleep? His two cats had been more than a handful that day, no doubt upset that they couldn't go outside, and were taking their feline frustrations out rather noisily downstairs. And if that wasn't enough, thoughts of his next trip to the US (less than a week away) filled his head till he thought it would burst. He lay back against the many pillows and cushions of his bed as waves of joy and ripples of anxiety washed over him. He couldn't wait to be reunited with his boyfriend again, but he grew nervous at the thought of meeting the man's mother.

At this moment, five time zones to the west, another handsome man stood alone in his New York kitchen contentedly poring over a slim volume of Trudie Styler's recipes. No anxieties troubled him. His mind was free to delve the mysteries of organic chicken and roasted vegetables. Soon the two people most important to him would be in the same room. At the same table, even, and he would prepare this meal for them. Tonight's meal would be the trial run before he attempted it in his mother's kitchen. He imagined the three of them, for he knew it would be thus, talking the night away, sharing stories, and in general, getting on. With a satisfied smile playing across his lips he went back to the happy task of chopping and dicing. Beyond his windows the first few flurries of snow began to fall, coating the pavements and clinging to the trees. It would continue through the night and by morning prove hell for the commuters, but of this he neither knew nor cared.