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New England
Doug Pickles As promised I was dutifully outside 104 Pall Mall bleary-eyed on a sunny May morning. I was even lucky enough to venture inside and have a quick look round before being ejected on ‘the grounds of security.’ The fact that I had a back pack clearly had nothing to do with it. And so, in the walnut paneled and marbled floor surroundings of the Reform Club, my trip began.
Boston is one of those places that doesn’t hold many attractions for the visitor, but you could easily imagine living here very comfortably. And that's exactly what my host Craig does, who kindly picked me from the airport. The Charles River bisects Boston and Cambridge beautifully and a drive along its shore is a perfect introduction to Beantown. Boston takes much pride in the fact that it was here that our colonial cousins planted the revolutionary seeds through the tea party and more passive resistance to taxation without representation. But the real action took place out of town in Lexington and Concord, where the infamous ‘shot heard round the world’ was fired. I tried to imagine what it would be like if we hadn’t treated our colonial cousins so badly
nearly 220 years ago - would George Bush have to answer to Queen Liz? Would the stars and bars be replaced by a Union Jack of sorts?
The Boston Red Sox are one of those fabled American sporting franchises that hold sway over almost everything else in this part of the world and no trip here would be complete without visiting their home at Fenway Park. It was wet, the beer was weak and the Sox went down to their worst shut out in 17 years, but it was still highly entertaining. Baseball is also a little more intricate than I originally gave it credit for, with some of the rules approaching the Byzantium nature of our summer sport of cricket.
The rest of my time in Boston was spent touring the local attractions, notably the now rather tired and schmaltzy Cheers bar, the alleged ‘inspiration’ for the sitcom where “everybody knows your name.” Leaving Boston behind, I headed south to Cape Cod, the location of choice for holiday homes for wealthy Americans. My final destination was the jewel in that crown, the former whaling colony of Nantucket, where the average property price is $2.7m. As I cycled
DTU at Fenway
Double thums up!the length and breadth of the tiny island I could understand why so many superlatives are lauded upon ‘The Grey Lady.’ Long unspoilt beaches, clipped lawns and hedgerows, cobbled narrow streets - the whole island, thanks to strict development laws, is like a picture postcard. Nantucket also served up my first, albeit limited, experience of hitch-hiking. I found myself taking rejection from the cars that just zoomed past a little personally until a friendly Californian stopped in his pick-up. The easy going west-coaster even ended our brief meeting with a fist punch, which I quite enjoyed.
It’s getting hot here, 31 degrees today. It’s not going to get any cooler either. Tonight I’m flying to the Arizona desert for Memorial Day weekend. Out of the frying pan and into the fire…
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