north under protection of sunlight

We are moving on today, further along the coast to somewhere with adjacent beaches.

Boston is a fascinating city and continues to undergo huge transformation. Not so many years ago, there was a complex, mystifying and rather ugly overground road system, which has now been replaced by streamlined tunnels. The wharves and harbour areas have also received significant makeovers and we are taking full advantage with our vista across from Battery Wharf.

In the centre of town, the once landmark Filene's store is now an empty shell with simply the facade left whilst a new mall, condominiums and office blocks are to rise from within its site.

But we're mixing some urban with some country and so its off to the homely delights of Salem famous for the witches and the adjacent coastal locations Stephen King seems so fond of in his novels. I have plenty of garlic.

no lions or unicorns here

Faneuil Hall is one of the spots from which Sam Adams caused the ruckus that eventually led to Independence for the Americans. Some call Faneuil the cradle of democracy but when I googled, it disappointingly presented itself as a shopping mall.

Boston's Freedom Trail laces the city with the varied sites of rebellion. Around 200 metres away from Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market is the Old State House site of the Boston Massacre. Riled British redcoats killed five protesting settlers who were part of a crowd angry at the British taxation of New England.

Years earlier, the English had rewarded the Italian explorer 'John Cabot' with a pension of £20 per year after he claimed the land in the name of Henry VII. After settlement it became a source of taxation without representation.

Sam Adams and Paul Revere were amongst those who campaigned to remove the British hold especially when George III kept increasing taxes and sending more militia to maintain order.

After the massacre a grudging peace ensued until Sam Adams and John Hancock threw a protest party, heaving hundreds of tea chests into Boston's harbour and further promoting the cause for independence.

A colonial congress, progressive arming of the locals and the famously thwarted attempt of the British to seize the arms, when Paul Revere and William Dawes rode through the night with a warning.

Soon afterwards came creation of the American Declaration of Independence read from the Boston State House and then a further six years of fighting for the establishment of the new nation.

talking italian

Our hotel is on the edge of the Italian district in North End.

A couple of streets away the roads have been closed and there is a big celebration in progress. There's a number of guys in white sports shirts with little italian flag flashes on them who seem to be in control of the street's proceedings.

The Boston Police barricades at either end of the street are also manned by more of the same guys and at one end theres a stage and someone singing Frank Sinatra songs.

In the middle is the church and the shrine with money attached.

Everywhere is busy and bustling with Italians and tourists. There's the locals standing on street corners chatting. Determined tourists follow the Freedom Trail maybe missing the main action in order to stay on the big red line on the sidewalk showing a route that links early American patriotic sites together.

Melancholy strains of a saxaphone waft from an alley. I recognise the tune. It's the theme from The Godfather. The restaurants all show pictures of famous visitors - film stars - singers - sportsmen - as well as family pictures from the old country. Everyone who owns a restaurant seems to have met Tony Soprano.

We take a left into the square by Paul Revere's house and spot Mamma Maria's. That will be our evening destination.

sun coming up on strange dreams

Watched the three tugboats pass the balcony and in their wake the sun rise.

Some scenes make me think of these Laurie Anderson lyrics best read in a voice like William S Burroughs(I am probably incurable).

Sun's coming up. Like a big bald head. Poking up over the grocery store. It's Sharkey's day. It's Sharkey's day today.

Sharkey wakes up and Sharkey says: There was this man... And there was this road...And if only I could remember these dreams... I know they're trying to tell me...something. Ooooeee. Strange dreams.

Oh yeah. And Sharkey says: I turn around, it's fear. I turn around again
And it's love. Oh yeah.
Strange dreams.

And the little girls sing:Oooee Sharkey.

He's Mister Heartbreak. They sing: Oooeee. That Sharkey! He's a slow dance on the edge of the lake. He's a whole landscape gone to seed. He's gone wild! He's screeching tires on an oil slick at midnight on the road to Boston a long time ago. And Sharkey says: Lights! Camera! Action! TIMBER! At the beginning of the movie, they know they have to find each other. But they ride off in opposite directions.

Sharkey says: All of life comes from some strange lagoon. It rises up, it bucks up to it's full height from a boggy swamp on a foggy night. It creeps into your house. It's life! It's life! I turn around, it's fear. I turn around again, and it's love.

Nobody knows me. Nobody knows my name.

Deep in the heart of darkest America. Home of the brave. Ha! Ha! Ha! You've already paid for this. Listen to my heart beat. And the little girls sing: Oooeee Sharkey. He's a slow dance on the edge of the lake.

Its the caffeine talking.

sam adams in boston

I'm sure blogging will become erratic for the next couple of weeks whilst we meander around Boston and environs. As a vacation flight, we were earlier at LHR than my customary timings, but that gave a chance to visit one of the posh lounges, spill coffee over clothing and recover from the situation all before we'd even boarded the plane.

I'm also pretty up to date with 6 month old movies again because the flight had one of those 200 channel Video on Demand systems so I could assess films quickly without necessarily watching them all the way through. I'd also taken the precaution of loading Green Wing onto my iPhone and I'll confess that a couple of episodes of that whiled away two hours of the flight.

So here we are in Boston. The car hire was needlessly stressful because the allocated vehicle looked like something you'd find on a demolition site with something unpleasant in the trunk in a bad 1970s movie. We changed it, which was a minor experience in its own right.

And now we are in the first destination, a hotel by the waterfront, where the kind staff have provided an upgrade to a mega-suite, with a panoramic deck looking to the harbour, and more rooms, showers and televisions than I know what to do with.

Its unseasonally early for me to be writing this because the combination of time zone and 'gourmet coffee' have worked in ways that don't usually affect me.

And yes, I'm writing this on the little toy computer I bought last year from ToysRUs,

calibrating the packing for weekend exit

Yesterday I started piling things into a heap ready for this weekend's departure. Its different from a biztrip, where I have a complete, compressed and more or less standard kit of parts, depending on the number of days.

My objective will still be to travel light so I'm already having to make decisions about which clothes/footwear/technology and general stuff gets included in the final pack.

I chickened out on the online check-in though...when it asked how many bags, I said 'two'.

Each.

long languid breakfast in the country

I drove to the country house to meet for breakfast and my Canadian friend who lives in Spain had already bagged the best corner table looking out into the garden.

We ordered toast and coffee and chatted amiably about English stately homes before our business guest arrived and we turned to serious charts and statistics. Our move to a room for a presentation was delayed so we wandered outside to the large garden, which included a croquet lawn next to the swimming pool and across from the discreet helipad.

My friend could hardly contain herself at this display of 'Englishness' with morning summer weather that looked sunny but was still slightly cool, necessitating her to unfold and wear a large pashmina wrap.

The lawns, the arcane game, a pond with a fountain, twittering birds and the lurking helicopter. All we needed was a sudden storm.

Yes, we managed that as well.

charge

Wednesday evening and I'm in that transitional phase between work and starting a vacation. By blasting away at work tasks I'm within sight of completing everything realistic before I leave for holiday at the weekend, and its unwise to start new things which will barely get under way when I take flight for a few days.

That's not to say that everything is finished.

This afternoon I have been on some rather condensed training and then tomorrow I'm off to a business breakfast at a posh country retreat before a workshop and then later in the day I'm hosting a European meeting.

But as I finish tidying my current tasks and telling the respective recipients that I'll be away, there will at least be a short gap before it all starts up again.

So whilst new meetings start to drift into my calendar, I'm quietly starting to look for luggage.

the field of pattern recognition

I've read two or three books about pattern recognition in its broadest sense.

PopCo by Scartlett Thomas and the one by William Gibson spring to mind.

They both include the idea of the person that spends their time divining the Zeitgeist and figuring how to repackage it for greater corporate profit.

Both stories include protagonists who are a little off kilter with their peers. In PopCo the heroine travels on a midnight train to avoid her co-workers and in the Gibson we see someone who has a phobia towards all brand labels.

They'd understand the little quote I heard today whilst travelling across the countryside, "I really want sunglass frames that colour", pointing towards the bales of hay in the field.

just jammin'

Its supposed to be the start of the school holiday season, so that the roads clear for a few weeks creating easier journeys to work.
Somehow this isn't fully working this year.

Firstly, I'm guessing more people are staying in the UK. What's that horrible word? "Staycationing" Yuk.

Secondly, there's a competition amongst the various road construction companies to see how few miles of the motorway system can be left unconed.

My estimate is that there is still a tiny stretch of M25 in Hertfordshire without cones, and they've missed a small piece of M3, but kept the speed limits on it in any case. Apart from that, it looks like pretty comprehensive coverage, at least in the areas that I drive.

beside the seaside

We've somehow managed to fit in the stately home picnic, the castle, the dressing up as animals, some music and seaside moments this weekend.

Inevitably the compressed nature of the last few days means limited blogging compared with plenty of exploits. I'm guessing I'll find a way to link a few more moments into future posts.

If only I wasn't so busy.

animal collective castle moment

Sunday we moved to a castle about 150 miles from the stately home of Saturday.

This time we were supposed to dress up as animals. Something of a gear change from the picnic table dining of the previous evening, with weather veering from hot sunshine, to rain which seemed to only affect small parts of our site.


Ever adaptable, we passed the jousting knights and the mysterious story telling and found handy beds strewn with cushions in the pennant draped fields where we could sip the honeyed nectar and gaze at the other animals.