Final night in the US, in a hotel twelve floors up, looking across the Charles River to the illuminated skyscrapers of Boston. If I could open this window I could probably hear the Rolling Stones playing at Fenway Park. I just heard an interview with the mayor on the radio, explaining that the area around the venue would be heavily policed.… READ MORE.... …
Month: August 2005
My baseball knowledge needs polishing. I left the game on Thursday under the impression that the local team had lost 6-2. Apparently they actually won, 3-1. An alcohol-free week is never as much fun as a free alcohol week. I managed to scale the working week without the distraction of a hangover, but made up for it this morning. It was the morning after last night’s session at the hotel’s gloomy island bar, where I chewed the cross-cultural fat with Frank the barman and a few locals.… READ MORE.... …
And no running today either. Instead, another slice of America life to enjoy at the local ballpark. I arrived just in time to hear the announcer intone: “Lay-deeeez and Gennelmen…. Welcome to the never-ending, non-stop, summer of fun here at the historic Holman Stadium.” And it was pretty good fun too, even if the home side, Nashua Pride, went down to a spirited display from the Long Island Ducks.… READ MORE.... …
Join me in Peabody, Massachusetts, where the country music is playing softly in the hotel ballroom. I sit directly beneath the gargantuan chandelier and stare down at the swirly carpet, trying to avoid eye contact with the other 60 or 70 suckers. Suddenly I hear footsteps approaching, and a voice cries: “Ah, and you must be Reg Varney!” Must I? Oh god, yes, I must.… READ MORE.... …
Early yesterday morning, I’m wandering round the garden with a cup of coffee, inspecting the newly-planted, but ailing, beech hedge, and offering a bit of encouragement to my sauvignon blanc vine by attacking its neighbour with some blunt secateurs. The usual thrush twitters in the usual cherry tree. All is well in rural Berkshire. A few hours later, I’m on another continent, crawling through the traffic outside Fenway Park, home of the Boston Red Sox, peering up at the top of the bleachers where a congested line of jubilant silhouettes can be seen punching the air.… READ MORE.... …