Prune

There is strange solace at twenty thousand feet, or however many feet you're at when you're in a plane from LA to NY. I'm going to the New York Film Festival for my day job. And I am proud to say that Ang Lee's magnificent "Life of Pi" is opening the festival -- on its 50th anniversary. And yes, I am a little giddy. Airplanes always give perspective, don't they? Locked in a phallic box with wings, surfing the clouds, cuddled up next to strangers, there is a sense of quiet, an instant grasp on what is important and what isn't and a view of the world that forces everything into the right sized compartment, not too big, not too small. I like the tiny meals, the doll-sized pieces of fruit, the camaraderie with people you will never see again. (The woman next to me tells me that she first met her daughter-in-law at Prune which, we both agreed, is our favorite restaurant in New York. She is wearing a t-shirt which proclaims GREAT BRITAIN. "Are you British or are you just wearing the t-shirt" I ask, probably a little rudely, but she smiles a big smile and tells me she is from Leeds and suddenly we feel safe with each other.) Tonight I see my boy. Soon it will be Thanksgiving and I will see my Mamma. My daughter is happy. All is well And all is well. And all manner of things will be well.