"Throw 'em a fake and a finagle ... they'll never know you're just a bagel."

Yesterday we did shamefully little until heading out for Broadway. Lazy reservations at a tempting restaurant on the Upper East Side beckoned and we jumped in a cab headed Uptown - sounding a little Billy Joel, I know.

We got to the restaurant (I won't name it because I feel terribly guilty about what comes next), and it was empty. Mr Wonderful just doesn't DO restaurants that are empty. He finds it awkward. And I can see why...

It's not particularly enjoyable to sit and feel constantly observed. Funny, really, because if it's busy one complains about how "you just can't get the staff" or that you've been "trying to catch the eye of the waiter for about half an hour, darling could you wink at him?!"

Anyway... we ended up in a raw bar - though no being the oyster sorts (and with no need for an aphrodisiac!) we had sticky buns - I know what you're thinking, but settle down... we're talking duck and plum sauce!

The calamari wasn't bad, but it wasn't remarkable. Where I'm really headed toward, though, is the Broadway experience. Chicago, to be precise. I've seen it before in the UK, and I've seen the film. I have to be honest ... Broadway trumps London. I feel like a traitor writing this but it simply oozed charisma.

Roxie Hart assumed the role of conductor at one point during her solo number 'Roxie' and conducted the onstage band so that the 'real' conductor could read the very real (not) newspaper all about the little madam. It was both charming and cheeky. Insipired. I enjoyed the whole performance so very much. Perhaps there's something in the air in NY, but the people out here are by far the friedliest, most intrusive and most fascinating I've ever had the fortune to meet. A breath of fresh air and a real learning experience.

The family sat a couple of rows in front were sporting some "super fetching" tourist stuff from Canada. Turned out they WERE Canadian - and DAMN proud Hosers they were too. We got on with them so well that they actually invited us out to stay to go skiing. Very disconcerting as Brits. Hardwired to be sceptics and to heavily examine anything for loopholes we smiled and took the bloke's business card in the full knowledge that we'd probably never be writing to him. Nevertheless, it was a sweet gesture.

The couple beside us thought we were nuts. Charlie and I were definitely enjoying our Gin and Tonics rather too much. He dropped his phone and was incapable of doing anything. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a babysitter or a girlfriend. I wouldn't have it any other way, though. He's fab.

Post Chicago, we left to a blizzard on Broadway. Times Square was stunning and all that was running through my head was "what a moment this would be to be proposed to..."

Don't tell Charlie. He already knows actually... we've had a few chats about "maybe" "one day" "some day", and frankly he's the sort of boy who just might be the one we all try so hard not to look for but are scared shitless we'll never find. So we commit to wander with our hands over our eyes, in full knowledge that we will look through the cracks like we did as children playing hide and seek. If you're sitting there reading this saying "I never did that", I don't believe you. Fibs. I am willing to bet that at least once you cheated. The fear of being wrong or never finding your friends is too much to bear. After all, it's only one you need to maintain some pride. Strangely I had my hands so over my eyes I was practically playing paralympic football. And there he was - so the old cliché may be more credible than I used to believe. Perhaps when you truly stop looking, you're deemed 'ready' for the big one.

So we stood there. It isn't the right time for us to make that commitment, but I'm telling you it would have been perfect. But I will have faith in Serendipity and believe that if it's meant to be another beautiful moment will present itself and this time it will just HAVE to happen.

So, to conclude, go and see Chicago. It's so epic.