We arrived in Boston and again the Rain Gods appeared to be threatening, but at least the pervasive fog of Bar Harbor had relented. I had some more Swiss muesli for breakfast, and Sharon had some French Toast. We were seated in a sort of enclosed enclave of the Lido, I’m not sure but that might be where those dining in the Canaletto dine. There was one gentleman seated by himself at the window when the steward asked him if he could get him anything else, after having poured him some hot coffee. “Well yes he said, “I would like one of those croissants; but not from this side because someone was going through and touching all of them, you’ll have to go around to the far side.” And the steward obligingly started off to do
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