There was Rickie, and Long Hair and Mannion and me.
There was lunch in Saigon, on 48th and 8th.
There were Summer rolls, and Pho noodle soup.
There were a couple of bottles of ‘33’.
There was a train to 14th St.
There was another, under the East River, to Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn.
There was a cranky old, unfriendly, barman with his neck at ninety degrees to the floor who said Rickie had to be 23 to get served.
There was relief on our part that we didn’t have to stay for a drink in the place.
There was a worry that Williamsburg wasn’t going to work for us.
There was The Two Door Tavern and a big blazing wood fire.
There was The Rosamunde Bar and the barmaid whose sister is doing a masters in college in Galway.
There was The Lucky Dog bar, with a super jukebox, shuffleboard and, yes, a good few lucky looking dogs.
There were delicious dumplings from across the road.
There was some fancy bar I can’t remember the name of.
There was a cab across the bridge into Manhattan.
There were a couple of car bombs with the Cavan crowd in McCoy’s.
There was ‘The Wild, The Innocent And The E-Street Shuffle’ on the jukebox.
There was one final last one in The Irish Bar off Times Square.
There was chat and fun and music and laughs all the way, all the day.
There was a day off in New York, thank you once more, NYC!

Albert Coombs Barnes was a businessman and art appreciator in Philadelphia and now his collection is on display at the spanking new Barnes Foundation building; and LongHair, Rickie and myself went to see it. Walked up the town and had lunch in a Vietnamese in Chinatown first. Summer rolls, Pho – you can’t beat it; we all love it. I love it so much so that I want to visit Vietnam. I have every intention of it now.

You look out and the sunshine is very inviting but the wind is a killer. When it hits you in the shade of the big buildings, it bites straight through to your bones.

The Kenyan woman at the desk at the Barnes Foundation tells me that ‘Mo-ran’ means 'Noble Warrior' in Kenya. It sounds like some kind of a compliment, though why, I just cannot figure….

Barnes was a bit of a character; he responded kindly to requests from 'normal' people to view his collection, but replied sarcastically and wittily to the well-to-do and celebrity types. One reply on display, from a fictitious secretary, stated that Mr Barnes didn't have the time to consider the request as he was busy trying to break the world record for goldfish eating.

The exhibition is very distinctively hung – in symmetrical patterns; it seems Barnes liked the idea of having paintings beside each other in order for the viewer to compare and contrast. It means that the gallery is densely packed and the paintings don’t get as much individual space as they might get in another gallery. The paintings are catalogued in books which are left around each chamber; there are no labels on the walls.

He managed to acquire a rake of Renoir’s work; I love the Renoirs – he was some diligent man, how did he paint so many absolutely brilliant works? There’s a couple of Monets as well, and Cézannes and Van Goghs, and a good few really nice ones by the American impressionist, Glackens, amongst many others. An amazing collection entirely, fair play.

After over an hour arting ourselves up we leave the foundation and head downtown again towards the hotel which is down near the river near the huge gigantic looking, no matter how many times you see it, Benjamin Franklin Bridge.

LongHair knows and likes a place on the way, Race Street Cafê, so we stop off in there out of the evening cold. Sure, hours later, we’re still there, joined by Ollie Carroll, Mannion, Duffy and Antny, cozy and chatting amongst ourselves, settling in to being in The United States Of America. We pop over into Paddy’s almost next door for a late one, but I don’t last too long. Now we’re here!!!!

For more of Leo's writings on the US Tour, just click on the Blog Section above