I can’t remember how I got the sequinned skirt on but I’m pretty sure the eyeliner was wobbly. Both arms in a cast does not precision cat-eye make. But it was New Year’s Eve and what’s the point if you’re not going to sparkle, and I’m an Egyptian in New York so the black eyeliner was practically a national duty.
And then I went round the corner, crossed the street and entered Chez Lucienne, my local and the neighbourhood French restaurant, foolishly with no reservation, and got a table anyway because all the waiters knew me. I could tell you which country each of them had supported in the previous year’s World Cup because I was the only person at the bar in the middle of the day watching matches being held hours away in South Africa.
