Samuel Johnson said that if a man is tired of London then he's tired of life.

Rubbish. If a man is tired of London, he can always go to New York (ladies you're not excluded, this means you too).

Actually, it especially means you. In the space of a week in New York, I had more men approach me than anytime before in my life!

New Yorkers are known for being obnoxious, sullen and cold to visitors but don't let this put you off, because it simply isn't true. The immigration guard at JFK airport was charming. I even think he was flirting a little bit.

I'd never visited New York before, but every street looked familiar as I drove in a yellow cab towards my Manhattan hotel.

I'd seen them so many times in the movies, in posters, adverts and read about them in books that to actually be there in person was a little overwhelming.

It was genuinely exciting and I felt a spark of holiday magic as I looked up at all the glittering lights; the kind that you can't pay for on a rollercoaster.

I arrived at the Holiday Inn, 57th Street, between 9th and 10th Avenue, just around the corner from the theatre district and was greeted by a flurry of welcomes as I stepped through the door - "Hello! Wow, look at you, welcome to New York, which room are you in? That's an amazing room! I was just telling Shirley here about the bar I was in this afternoon, but that's a different story. You're just adorable, pull my moustache, that curl is natural and I never use wax! When you've unpacked come down to the bar and I'll buy you a drink."

This, by the way, was Joe the general manager, who took it upon himself to treat every new arrival like New York royalty. Talk about friendly. Can you imagine receiving the same reception at The Holiday Inn at the Pear Tree roundabout? I think not.

With so much to do, and so many things to see, it's tough to know where to start in a city like this. The Empire State? The Statue of Liberty?

Bah! I'd come to this city with a single aim in mind; to worship at the doorstep of She who represents single ladies, fashionistas, great girl friends, shoe obsessives, and all women everywhere who have had one or three relationship mishaps before: Miss Carrie Bradshaw. There is an easy way to follow in the footsteps of those fabulous New York women Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha and that is to take the three hour Sex and the City bus tour around Manhattan.

Along with 30 other women, a gay couple, and three defiant looking boyfriends, I piled into a bus outside the gorgeous and very glamourous Waldorf Astoria hotel next to Central Park.

It was in the adjoining hotel bar that Donald Trump made a cameo appearance in one episode of the Sex and the City while Samantha sips a Cosmopolitan and gets chatted up by an ageing millionaire.

The writers got it spot on with that scene - you can't get much more New York than that.

We trundled around midtown in the bus, sighting cafes and restaurants where the show was shot and our lovely bubbly guide played clips as we drove along.

Things got a little more interesting when we alighted outside The Pleasure Chest in a very fashionable neighbourhood.

We took a detour into this toy shop', ahem, where Carrie and the gals made some playful purchases in one episode.

As a consequence of the exposure, the tiny shop is often packed with customers. The world and his wife can now be seen in there doing a little retail therapy on any given afternoon, and no one bats an eyelid. I was even handed a free spank stick on the way out. Ooo-er!

Our next stop was in Greenwich Village, a lovely, leafy suburb popular with celebrities.

The shops are expensive, the cafes are divine, and here we found the totem of our quest, The Doorstep of Carrie Bradshaw!

Unfortunately, the lady who actually lives in Carrie's' house' for real gets very angry if you sit on her stoop, so there is a constant flow of women paying their respects from the other side of the street.

After that, there's little more to do but shimmy along to the local Magnolia bakery whose cupcakes have become famous for featuring in the show in much the same way as The Pleasure Chest.

Well, not quite the same way, but you know what I mean. Our guide had trays of pearly sweet cupcakes waiting for us back at the rendezvous.

I should warn you that not everything in New York is so palatable. Later on I ordered an onion loaf' from an American grill restaurant. I thought it might be some fancy Italian bread garnished with a little rosemary and rock salt, aka, perfect post tour grub. But no! Cue 100 onion rings, friend, squished together and served as a little mountain on your plate. Very unfabulous' and not at all conducive to the svelte figure I'm trying to cultivate. Only in America!

Anyway, back to the tour. There was one more stop to be made before time was up and that was to a cocktail bar which in the series is owned by Carrie's old flame, Aidan.

How fitting that we should all enjoy a (cut-price tour special) Cosmopolitan. Perfect!

The city truly never sleeps and at all times of the day and night, even from the top of skyscraper hotels (well, the 11th floor, but that's high enough) you can hear the rumble of life below like a beast with constant toothache. I can see where the idea for Godzilla came from.

I've never had a holiday quite like it and until I return I don't think I ever will.

Until then, I'll have to satisfy myself with old SATC re-runs and await the movie with bated breath.

I'll just stay away from the onion loaf.