We drove back from New Hampshire, past Boston, taking in some of the famous Afternoon Traffic Queue On The Way To The Cape, which was a nice ambition realised. Our friend was delighted to see us, which, considering we were going to be eating her out of house and home for a fortnight, was remarkably nice of her.
The weather took a turn for the unfeasibly hot while we were on the Cape, temperatures of 30-plus degrees day after day, which meant that we lived in shorts and t-shirts, and all the clothes we'd packed for "cool evenings" were left mouldering sadly in our cases. I had packed a selection of shawls, pashminas, scarves and even a cardigan. None of them were used once.
My joy at being back on the Cape was slightly tempered by the headlines in the local paper, all about how Great White Sharks were back, swimming around just off Nauset Beach chasing seals into the shallow water. The sharks were spreading joy and excitement among the marine biologists, but also buggering up my plans to swim off Nauset Beach, and possibly get up close to the seals.
Plenty of other, less fearsome, kites too, though, as well as whirly things you hang in the garden. We bought one with a lighthouse on it, and will adorn one of the many, many WithaY sheds with it.
We also went to a beach with the most amazing boardwalk. This was the latter part of the holiday after I'd sprained my ankle so I gimpily hopped along the first few yards, then gave up and sat on a bench while the others went all the way to the end.
To infinity and beyond! Our friend had very resourcefully found me an old broom handle to lean on as I walked, so I amused myself by waving it at them and saying "Fly, you fools! Fly!" as they went off to explore the far-away end of the boardwalk. They, probably wisely, ignored me.
The view from the invalid's bench was pretty nice too.
Look, here's me and Mr WithaY on the boardwalk. You can't see my Staff of Leaning.
And of course, there was the ill-fated, disaster-laden trip to Nantucket. What a day. On the high speed ferry out from Hyannis, my eye was caught by this advert in the free newspaper.
I had no idea that Lung in Vomit was a Nantucket speciality. Things went, quite literally, downhill from there, thanks to this...the Pothole of DOOM. Yes, DOOM. Possibly even DOOOOOOOOOOM.
See that pedestrian crossing on the right? I was walking across it, minding my own business, looking at the traffic (safety first!) when I must have put my foot in the hole, turned my ankle over and went down like a 5'10" sack of shite, not to put too fine a point on it. I hit the tarmac, and once the initial "What the FUCK?" moment passed, realised I was:
(a) on the ground
(b) in the middle of the road
(c) the centre of an alarmed crowd
(d) injured and bleeding. Maimed, in fact.
A kind lady was fussing over me, I was muttering "fucking hell" under my breath, the traffic was held up as there was a body in the road (mine), and the local police/community support/Scouts were mobilising into action. It was like a scene from a disaster movie, but without the volcano.
My day in Nantucket, therefore, consisted of hopping painfully between places, then sitting with my foot up, taking ibuprofin and whining loudly. Here's me in a coffee shop that had free WiFi access, drinking an iced latte.
It's a rubbish quality picture because I took it on my phone and have no idea how to embiggen it without making it blurry. You get the idea, though.
But, the main reason for the trip was the Whaling Museum. And it was absolutely marvellous. Here it is from the bench I sat on outside.
They have about a million exhibits, most of them made of bits of whale, some of them just wonderful.