Holiday snaps part 3 - Cape Cod

Finally!  The last leg of the mega-holiday, including such highlights as "Boiling in Provincetown", "Lobster II" and "Nantucket - The Spraining."  Bet you're glad you looked in, aren't you?

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. 

To compensate for this mighty blow, we went out for another lobster dinner. 

There was some sort of salty old sea-dog band entertaining the diners with sea shanties and accordian music, and later in the evening, a solitary guitarist who wandered between the tables, playing mournful songs.  What made it even sadder was his tips bag, strapped to his waist.  If you wanted to tip him, you had to get up really close and drop the money in, a horribly intimate thing; he had the bag strapped to his belt, so you'd have been groping about in his trouser area.  Brrrrrrrrr.

We champed through our lobsters and sweetcorn, trying not to notice the minstrel and his trouser bag of woe. 

Also paid a visit to my arch enemy Dr Gravity's Kite Shop. 

He sells kites.  Including a kite shaped like a horse.  Can you imagine how terrifying it would be, seeing that bearing down on you from the sky? 

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. 

There's a lot of Nature on the Cape.  We went and looked at some of it up close.  There are several families of Osprey living in nest boxes in the marshes, and you can walk close enough to them to take a really blurry picture with a zoom lens.  Well, I was happy just to see them, to be honest.  One day when we were at the beach (not Nauset though, not with the fucking sharks, oh no matey, no thank you) we saw one flying along, looking for fish.  They're surprisingly large, and the big hooked beak looks like it could eviscerate you no trouble at all.  So don't piss off an Osprey, is my advice.

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.

I liked the huge Mobile Of Many Whales they have hanging in the front of the building.

They also have, in case you somehow manage to miss the whole whale-related theme, a skeleton of a whale that was washed up on the shores a few years ago.  It's HUGE and looks like a dinosaur.

The day in Provincetown was HOT, baby, damn hot.  I think it may have been the hottest day of the entire holiday, and we were out at sea, whalewatching for a chunk of it, thankfully.  My whale pictures are rubbish, but take my word for it, it was thrilling.

Here we are on the whaewatch boat.

And here's a whale, chilling out.

Once off the boat, we found a place to eat and sat panting in their airconditioned room, surrounded by very loud, very gay men, all having a fine old time.  I saw this as we walked through the town.

We did a sunset dune buggy tour, ending at a beach where we watched the sun go down (there was a clue on the name of the tour, really).  The dunes are unearthly, I liked them very much. 

Parts of them look like how I imagine the Veldt looks. 

Parts of them don't.

That teeny black speck on the upper right?  That's a seal.  Honest. 

Ok, I can sense that people are probably losing the will to live now with all the "what I did on my holidays" stuff, but to be fair, that's all that this blog has ever been about.  I reserve the right to post more photos as and when I feel like it though, I took loads.  LOADS. 

So, a picture I took out of the window of the plane as we flew home.  I might use it as an album cover when I get my arse in gear and become a successful professional musician*. 

Hello sky, hello clouds. 

I saw a crop circle from the air too, which was lovely, somewhere between Cardiff and Bath I think, but I was too slow and the clouds were too numerous to get a picture of it.

Other news:  I am off to the doctor to get my ankle checked out as it is still BLOODY painful and I can't walk any kind of distance, which is tiresome and slightly worrying.  I don't think it's fractured, but it's hard to tell, so I will feel better once it's been poked by a professional.  Ooh matron.

Also, went to Fat Club this week, and despite the lobster, butter, ice cream, fried clams, Reeses' peanut butter cups, nachos, cocktails and eggs benedict diet I followed, have lost 2 pounds while I was away.  So yay me.   

Oh, and to end, this was the sign outside Harwich library, where I borrowed their pcs a couple of times.  I think they just thought of random words that children would like and slapped them on a noticeboard.  I hope it worked. 

*Never. But in my head, one day. 

Holiday snaps part 2 - Maine and New Hampshire

Yes, more pictures.  But this time of Maine! And New Hampshire! So much travel, so little of America covered.

We left Boston on a cloudy Sunday morning, after a huge breakfast. We had been advised to use a small cafe down the street from the hotel, and their Eggs Benedict was superb.  

The trip to the airport to pick up the hire car was entertaining.  The courtesy bus, shared by three hotels in the area, was driven by a cheerful Jamaican man who was playing a Bob Marley cd.  He drove along, occasionally bouncing the minibus off small obstacles like crash barriers and kerbs as he tried to drive, sing, chat to his passengers and answer his mobile phone all at the same time.  He was most impressed that Mr WithaY and I had heard of Bob Marley.  So much so that I can only assume that most of his guests come from remote islands in the South Pacific. 

Delivered from the Jamaican rally drive champion 2010 we went to talk to the nice Alamo lady at Boston Airport.  She looked us up on the computer, checked that we had ordered a car, then looked us up and down quizzically.

"How far are you driving?"  she asked us.

"Oh, you know, up to Maine and back, then down to Cape Cod...around and about."

She shook her head sadly, and said "This car you ordered is no good...it's too small for you."  I wondered if perhaps we'd inadvertently booked a clown car.

"You need something bigger."  She looked at us again.  "Much, much bigger.  Tell you what, if you are willing to pay to upgrade one level, I'll upgrade you three."  We nodded.  She nodded.  It was a done deal.  Her colleague wandered over as we finalised the paperwork and she told him to take us outside and "pick them something nice" which I thought was very kind. 

The car lot was packed with all kinds of huge cars, but the one that we both spotted immediately was a Jeep.  So, we set off to New Hampshire in a Jeep Patriot, which was comfortable, economical, had fab aircon and a decent stereo.  Kudos to the Alamo lady.

I thought it was quite a big car, till we came out of LL Bean later in the trip and saw what had parked either side of it. 

Anyhoo, the drive up to New Hampshire was fun, once Mr WithaY remembered how to drive an automatic, and that they drive on the right, the RIGHT, darling, other side, over there. 

The placenames in New England are eerily familiar.  Amesbury!  Salisbury!  But in America!  How thrilling. 

We drove up to see our mates in New Hampshire, where over the next few days we went out for lobster and steamers, saw a chipmunk, went for a long hot walk along the Marginal Way, visited many, many shops, ate fab food with our friends, and went to a graduation party with hogroast.  The man roasting the hog was using a giant steel machine, all rotating spits and charcoal which he'd designed and made himself.  It was called the "Oinkmaster 8000" and he was justifiably proud of it.  The roast hog was delicious. 

Look, a chipmunk.

One day we went up into the White Mountains, and had a trip on the North Conway Scenic Railroad, on a huge train with a cowpusher on the front.  Mr WithaY and I had seats in the Pullman coach, slobbing out in wicker chairs as we chugged sedately through the countryside.  It's very green, with a lot of mountains, as you'd expect, including Mount Washington, famous for having the worst recorded weather in the USA.

In the Ladies at the North Conway Railroad Station is this sign:

I was rather hoping they'd have a T-shirt for sale in there that said "My girlfriend went to North Conway Scenic Railroad and all she bought me was a box of personal hygiene products" but I couldn't find one.

There's a museum in Conway all about the observatory up there, where they have a mock-up of the shack that you can stand in while the windspeed goes up and up and up.

The shack shakes, the floor moves, the snow flying past the windows blurs into white lines and the noise is extraordinary.

200 miles an hour, eh?  Better get the washing in, I suppose.  The museum had loads of interactive exhibits you could poke about.  My favourite was the Vortex of Doom.

You could change the movement of the wind with your hand, man.  With your hand.  It was, like, awesome.  I dicked about with it for ages.

The highlight of the trip into Maine was the visit to LL Bean, long planned and much anticpated.  It's got everything, including a giant boot outside.

I liked these.  A selection of things that make duck noises, and not just any old honker, but a MAGNUM honker for those situations when you need that extra magnitude of honkage. 

They also had the DUCK COMMANDER for people who need to take command of ducks from time to time.

And this, which I just giggled at like an idiot while Mr WithaY stood a little distance away tutting and telling me to stop being childish.

Moving on.

When you go out for a lobster dinner, they mean what they say.  You get lobster, butter, sweetcorn and that's pretty much it.  Maybe some steamers as well, but it is usually all about the Lobster. 

I decided not to get this one, as it would have cost about $200, and instead went for something a bit smaller.

They have some stunning sunsets over there.  This one was going on as I champed and nommed my way through the lobster.  I expect it made an uplifting background to a frankly unedifying and probably repellant sight, as shell fragments and butter flew in all directions.

On that note, I will end, as I have a bazillion photos and I daresay you're a bit tired of them for now. 

Other news:  My ankle is recovering slowly, although I still can't drive which is tiresome.  We've got the loft insulation blokes coming tomorrow so I hope that we will be able to put all our stuff back in the loft soon.  I think a car boot sale might be in the offing, as there's stuff in the loft we've not used since we moved into this house, over 8 years ago. 

Oh, and we have started harvesting carrots from the garden, and very nice they are too. 

Holiday snaps part 1 - Boston

Hello!  Back in the USSR home once more, in heaving rain and tempestuous winds.  Oh, and yesterday there was some End of the World stylee thunder and lightning.  So hurrah for British weather.  Bit of a culture shock, leaving the clear (mostly) blue skies and solar-flare temperatures of New England, but at least it means I can stand outside barefoot without feeling as though the soles of my feet are frying.  Well, I could if I could stand up for any length of time.  Which I can't.

I mentioned the sprained ankle, yes?  Look, here it is in swollen, revolting glory, just after we got back from Nantucket and I had peeled off the acid-covered, burning, sticky bandage from HELL.

Makes your stomach turn, doesn't it?  It does mine, but then I know what it feels like.

I just looked up "Sprained ankle recovery time" on the Internet and apparently I have another 3-5 weeks of this to go, then anything up to 3 months of "continued instability".  I assume they mean the ankle.  The swelling is going down, and the truly stomach-turning purple bruises that covered the side of my foot and lower leg are going green, so are less conspicuous.  Gah.

Other than that, though, things at the WithaY household are going well.  Mr WithaY has popped out to collect the fish to put back in the aquarium.  Hopefully they will all still be alive after a month at the Fish Hotel.  I also hope they've not been running up huge room service bills, having lavish parties and watching porn movies.  You never know with fish. 

We are dog-sitting today for some friends, our little hairy guest is asleep in the hall downstairs, having worn himself out chasing his hide chew all over the house, growling at invisible enemies in the garden and being told off for trying to get on my lap on the sofa.  We love him really.

Anyhoo.  Photos.  I took over 1000 pictures in America. Who'd have thought there was that much to look at, eh?  Some of them, I admit, were taken purely for the fun of posting them on here.  See if you can guess which ones they were, readers. 

I made my very own LOLpic, too.  I'm so hip and happening.

I expect all the American readers will be thinking "Bah, that's so old," but it made me laugh.

Holiday pics from here on in, so if that sort of thing bores the arse off you, maybe go and get a cup of tea or something and I'll see you later.

Boston was the first stop, so here are some touristy shots of the city.  I like it very much, especially now that the Big Dig is finished and that hideous flyover that cut the place in half has gone.

This is the iconic shot of the city from the harbour.  We did a boat trip.

This is the captain* of the boat we were in.  He is chilling out, eating an ice cream and steering with his feet.  We didn't crash into anything. 

Look, here we are on the boat.

This is the view from the top of the Prudential Center, the Skywalk Observatory.  It's jolly high up.  Our hotel was on the left hand side of that long straight road, easy walking distance from the Center.

We had our first proper meal in America in the food court of the mall at the Prudential Center, and very nice it was too.  I recorded it for posterity.  Lobster rolls, clam chowder and oyster crackers.  Nom nom nom.  Mr Withay managed to feature clam chowder in almost every meal he ate in Boston, apart from at breakfast. 

This is the Christian Science Plaza, which has some funky fountains and this reflecting pool.

I like how this man looks as though he is lying in the water.

 

This sign at the reflecting pool caught my eye.  It says "no swimming or wading" but it is quite hard to read unless you get into the water to see it.  I had to use my zoom lens. 

Fenway Park, home of the Red Sox. I think there is a law that every single person in Boston, man, woman and child MUST own and wear at least one item of Red Sox clothing whenever they go out in public.

 

The New England Aquarium is well worth a visit.  The outdoor seal tank is great, there was always a huge gaggle of families watching the seals swimming about.  I was very taken by the penguins, particularly this one who looks like an overweight heavy metal fan giving it some in the front row at Donington. 

There were many fish, jellyfish, seahorses and sharks.  We were in there for ages, not least because it was air-conditioned, and it was a boiling 30-odd degrees outside. 

 

I spotted this sign in their gift shop.  Sound advice for us all, I think.

 

We found a place to eat in Quincy Market, where I packed down the largest plate of fried scallops in the Western Hemisphere.  Mr WithaY had clam chowder with his.

 

We tried to book seats on the Codzilla speedboat trip, but it was fully booked, so we watched from the shore as the over-excited passengers boogied to AC/DC while the large, ultra-cool CodMeister watched them with a benevolent eye.

 

Next time, Codzilla.  Next time.

This is the front of the v big, v posh looking Colonnade Hotel, where they provide teeny eco-cars for the guests.  Our hotel had an ice machine. That was fine by us. 

Next time:  Maine - the saga continues.

*I edited his face as I don't want him to get fired or anything.  I suspect he was doing it for effect.

Postcard number 6

My recent holiday escapades have stirred me into writing a poem:

I fell down a hole in Nantucket.
Fuck it.

Yes, dear readers, as is all too often the case with me, I fell over in the street. 

Not through drink, drugs, snow and ice or pools of oil.  No, I was walking across a road, having just moments earlier disembarked from the high-speed ferry to Nantucket, put my foot in a hole and went down like a ton of bricks. 

I think I managed to make contact with the Tarmac with every single possible body part except my face. Apparently there was a yelp, then the sound of a large woman hitting the ground. My swearing was done quietly, as I have been very aware how little bad language there is on the streets around here.

I sat there briefly, registering the fact that I was now on the middle of the pedestrian crossing, a crowd of concerned bystanders and a queue of interested traffic all looking at me. The next thing I registered was how much my ankle hurt. Oh yes indeedy. 

Mr WithaY and a very kind young community officer bloke helped me up, and I hopped into a nearby cafe to inspect the damage.

Ankle, sprained, 1
Elbow, skinned and bleeding, 1
Knee, skinned and bruised, 2
Hand, grazed and studded with gravel, 2
Dignity missing, presumed dead.

My arch enemy Doctor Gravity had struck once more.  He's always one step ahead, curse him.

The people in the cafe were lovely - The Easy Street Cafe I think it was, go and buy breakfast from them if you get the opportunity - and I sat with ice on my ankle and a sweet coffee for a little while, sniffling piteously. Once I felt better we continued on to look at the whaling museum.

As it was still closed (we'd caught the early ferry) Mr WithaY went and found a chemist and bought me some special sticks-to-itself strapping for my ankle, and a plaster for my elbow so I was able to hobble about more easy. Then we went to look round the museum.

We were in there for well over 2 hours. It was fascinating. They have several films and presentations you can sit and watch, which we did, as well as all the stuff in cases. Oh, and a sperm whale skeleton that they took from an unfortunate whale that washed up onto the island dead a few years ago. The people who'd been involved in disassembling the dead whale talked about what a long, slow, smelly, filthy process it was, which gave an extra perspective to the whaling exhibits. It must have been appalling on board those ships.

After the museum we found a place to eat lunch, then I found a friendly coffee shop to park myself. Mr WithaY and our mate went for a walk and climbed up to the top of one of the church towers to admire the view. I sat with my bandaged foot up and read the paper and had an iced latte.   

A little later on, we caught a bus across the island to Sconset (sp?) where I sat and minded the bags while Mr WithaY and our lovely hostess went for a short stroll to look at the cottages. A sea fog was rolling in, making everything look eerie, which I liked very much.

Yesterday was mostly spent sitting grumpily on the sofa with my foot up, watching tv and whining how much everything hurt. 

The sticks-to-itself bandage strapping stuff, it turns out, also sticks to your skin. I peeled it off and then had a few hours of exquisite pain where I had to keep cold wet cloths wrapped around my foot to try and alleviate the burning feeling that the bandage had caused.   Oh how I laughed.

Today, I am more cheerful. We have a cunning plan.

There is a craft fair on the common which we are going to go and look around, but first our lovely hostess is going across the street to see if we can borrow a walking stick from the assisted living place. If they say no, I will just have to limp and grumble. If they say yes, I will get to limp, grumble and poke things with a stick.

Despite the clumsy and entirely predictable fall/sprain/whining scenario, I am still having a lovely holiday. Tomorrow's our last day on the Cape before we head back up to Boston, and then back to the UK on Wednesday. 

I hope the vegetables in the garden are all still alive.   

Postcard number 5

The weather has cooled down to a brisk 88 degrees today, with a breeze from the sea, so it is much less stifling than it was.  The local papers and tv news is all about the Heatwave of DEATH that is sweeping the north-east of the US, so we've had the enjoyable sense that we are in the middle of a climate-based disaster movie, possibly starring Jeff Goldblum or Will Smith, where stern men in hard hats glare at blueprints and yell into telephones.  We've been fighting the Heatwave of DEATH by going to the beach and eating ice cream.  Well, we all do what we can.

We all went up to Provincetown earlier in the week.  That's the town right on the very tip of Cape Cod, poking out into the Atlantic a long way.  Look on a map, British readers.  It was incredibly, searingly hot.  That was the day that the official temperature in Boston reached 100 degrees - a rarity, I understand - and it was not far off that in P-town, as we locals call it.

We were up there early as we had booked onto a whale-watching trip.  Readers, we saw scads of the buggers.  Humpback whales, of which I managed to take three photos, shadowy vague dark blots on the water.  Mr WithaY took some fantastic photos which I will post on here if he lets me. 

There is a huge marine reserve off the coast of New England, and because P-town is so far out it only takes an hour or so before you arrive at the prime whale watch area.  We saw a mother and calf, rolling around on and just under the surface, the calf feeding from the mother as they both swam slowly past us.  That was lovely.  They're big, whales, aren't they? 

We then plodded along a bit fiurther, leaving the mother and calf in peace, before encountering a group of five or six animals all feeding just under the surface.  They were incredible, spouting and splashing and flapping their big tails out of the water.  Lovely. 

The boat is run by a company who are very keen on marine conservation, and they went to some lengths to make it clear that we might not see any animals close to, as there are strict laws about bothering whales (and other marine animals).  We were very fortunate that the whales moved nearer to our boat when we stopped and watched them. 

The same could not be said for some fuckwit in a small fishing boat.  He and his scarlet, elephantine wife were gaily moving around right on top of the whales, at times starting their engines to get even closer.  The captain of our boat was furious, and the on-board marine biologist filmed the whole thing.  They reported it to the appropriate authorities over the radio (Coastguard?  Navy?  Department of Fisheries? Neptune?  I was too excited by the whales to pay much attention) and told us that the fool driving that boat would be getting a visit from them in the near future, and there was anything up to a $100,000 fine for that kind of flagrant breach of the law. 

As is traditional, on the way back to port I felt as though I was about to die.  In my defence, I think it was probably mostly heat-related, as the sea was mirror-calm.  To be fair, though, I could get seasick in the bath on a bad day. 

Once back on land, we found  a place to get lunch.  It was air-conditioned to a mere 83 degrees, and we sat there for ages until we felt strong enough to go outside again. 
 
We ducked in and out of shops but it was so incredibly hot and muggy that none of us had much energy for shopping.  Something I now regret, as we found a place selling Big Lebowski t-shirts.  I particularly liked the "You're entering a world of pain" one.  We can always pop back to get some I suppose.

In the evening we had booked to go on a Dune Safari.  There's a company called Art's Dune Tours, now run by the Son Of Art, where you all pile into large 4-wheel drive vehicles with most of the air let out of the tyres, and they drive you across the dunes to look at the wildlife, the artists' shacks and the incredible, freaky landscape. 

Our driver and guide was a nice chap called John who works as a biology teacher in term time and a park ranger in the summer, moonlighting as a dune safari guide in his spare time.  We told him we were disappointed he wasn't wearing his park ranger hat.  Apparently they aren't allowed to unless they are working on official park ranger business. 

I will post some pictures of the dunes when I get home.  The climax of the trip was a stop at a beach to watch the sunset.  I paddled in the water - crystal clear and beautifully refreshing after such a searingly hot day - where we had a large seal join us as the sun went down.  He kept popping up closer and closer to the beach, which was a real bonus.  I failed to get a photo, but I could probably draw a picture if anyone's interested. 

A late-night sandwich from a cheeky man in a seafront sandwich shop, and we were home by 11. 

Yesterday Mr WithaY went sea fishing, and returned home in triumph with bluefish and striped bass.  No sunburn, and managed not to lose any fingers, toes or ears, so a triumphant day all round.  We dined like kings on bluefish for supper.  Nom nom nom.

I went out to Chatham and Orleans with our lovely hostess, where we explored the shops.  There's a place on the seafront where you can get excellent lobster rolls, so we picked up some lunch from there and went to eat it sitting in the shade of a large maple tree in the old cemetary.  Unusual, but pleasant. 

I had to buy another memory card for my camera, as I have completely filled one already.  Over 700 pictures.  Hey family - bet you can't wait to sit through all those, can you?

Today it's much cooler, and we plan to do some domestic stuff with our hostess.  Possibly there will be ice-cream. 

Dress code

I'm still in America. STILL. It's the Fourth of July, boiling hot, and there are chipmunks everywhere.

We went to the Chatham parade yesterday, which I enjoyed despite the absence of Shriners. Afterwards, a proper family barbecue with beer and hot dogs and cookies with the family of our lovely hostess here. It was great.

Today we are mostly sitting indoors with the blinds down as it is rather like walking about on the surface of the sun outside. I sauntered up to the library, which is closed, but I have a seat in the shade and am using their WiFi anyway. I'm currently trying to find the energy to saunter the 20 yards back, what with the heat and all.

A nice lady came over to drop some books back, and said "Oh I love your dress! It looks so cool. And comfortable." This is the dress I seldom wear any more, not after a Turkish waitir exclaimed in delight, "Hello again! And you have baby!" at me when I walked into his restaurant on holiday wearing it.

But it is comfortable.

Happy birthday, America. I'm enjoying visiting you.

Postcard number 4

Hello!  I'm in the library in Harwich, Massachussets, using one of their free WiFi time-limited PCs.  It focusses the mind, only having 15 minutes to use a PC.  Apparently it reboots after 15 minutes and you lose EVERYTHING.  The nice man at the front desk emphasised that several times.  He didn't say it out loud but I'm pretty sure there was a "Mwahahahahaaaaaaa" in his head.

I will have to try for brevity and spareseness of prose, rather than rambling on with no apparent point like I usually do.  Maybe bullet points?  If I could find the right button. 

American keyboards are different.  I just wasted about 45 seconds of my 15 minutes trying to find the @ sign.  It's above the number 2, for those of you who find yourselves in a similar predicament.  My typing, always emphatic and  noisy is multiplied a thousandfold in the silence of a library.  I sound like someone repeatedly whacking a sheet of solid plastic with a small hammer, like an elven shoemaker on a tight deadline.

Gah!  10 minutes gone already.  This is hellishly pressured.  I usually just write more or less in a continuous stream of consciousness, sometimes stuffing photos into the mix, but all I can think about now is GAHHHH LOOK AT THE TIME.

Ooh, also, the return key is small, and right next to the //// key, so I keep inserting lines of slashes where they have no busines to be.  Reminds me of my days as the world's least competent computer programmer. 

So. Holiday.  We're now in Massachessets, on Cape Cod, in the glorious sunshine.  The birds are singing, the chipmunks are frisking on the lawn and all is well with the world.  Later today we are off to the beach. 

Driving through Boston yesterday afternoon was interesting, in a nose to tail kind of way, but once we got through the city it was clear and mostly straighforward.  Crossing the Sagamore Bridge is always fun, it's bloody high up.

Said a sad farewell to our New Hampshire mates, they were incredibly kind and hospitable, and we are determined not to leave it so long next time before we see them again.  

Bah, 2 minutes to go.  It's difficult to be fascinating and witty when you can't sit and gawp out of the window for long minutes in between sentences, or roam the Internet as you look for the correct spelling or a relevant reference.  How did those Romantic Poets do it?  I've got a big white linen shirt on, I thought that was all it took.  Apparently not.

Heh.  Just managed to swap across to a 30 minute PC, so I can add a few more things.  Assuming you're still with me of course.

Driving in America is very straightforward, once you get your head around the whole "wrong side of the road" thing.  The Interstates and turnpikes are fantastic.  They are designed (well, up here at least) with broad strips of greenery, or even a small wood, in between the two carriageways, so it often feels as though you are driving on a single direction road, which is much less stressful than the motorways at home.  Plus it makes looking for wildlife much easier.  I was very disappointed not to see any moose while we were up in Maine.  I wonder if they really exist, or if they are in fact mythical creatures, much like the unicorn. 

Everywhere you go, all the shops sell the inevitable tourist stuff - t-shirts, mugs, fridge magnets, keyrings - and in Maine and New Hampshire they were either decorated with moose or lobsters.  Sometimes both.  We found a shop selling some rather funky t-shirts in Boothbay Harbor, and Mr WithaY and I stocked up.  We are now the proud owners of matching (albeit different coloured) t-shirts that say "Shit Creek Survivor" on them.  How we laughed.

I also have a baseball cap with Maine on the front.  I plan to wear it a lot when I get home. 

The only thing I find odd is the toll stations every few miles.  The tolls vary from State to State, and it seems from road to road.  Some are 75 cents, some are a dollar, some are 3 dollars.  It makes driving that bit more exciting - tollgate roulette. 

Oh, and when we were at LL Bean, the biggest huntin' shootin' fishin' kayakin' gardenin' store we had ever seen, I found a travel guitar.  Yes, I really did.  Reader, I bought it.

The woman at the checkout said "I didn't even know we sold these!"  It's a rare skill I have, guitar-dar. 

It is made by Washburn, and sounds excellent.  It came with a hard shell travel case, a set of picks, a strap and a set of backpack straps, and I love it already.  Yes, I needed another guitar.  Of course I did.  Shhh.  Mr WithaY amuses himself by doing George Formby* impersonations when I get it out of the case. 

Plans for the remainder of our stay on the Cape:

• Go to a drive-in movie.
•  Go to Nantucket and look at the whaling museum.  Last time we went over there it was closed for the summer, and we were almost drowned** on the incredibly rough crossing back. 
• Go to the fire station down the road and take some photos of the fire engines.  I have wanted to do that since our first visit, 16 years ago, and always chickened out.  This is the year. 
• Train a chipmunk to sit on my hand.  And get a photo as evidence. 

 Holidays.  Aren't they great?




*Formby, not Foreman.  He pretends he is playing a ukelele, not being a boxer, or grilling meat healthily. 
**Not really, but it was scary

Postcard number 3 (a short one)

Back up into Maine yesterday, to Acadia National Park and Bar Harbor. As Mr WithaY observed, everyone round here lives by the woods.

Didn't see any moose, but we did see wild turkeys, whitetail deer, chipmunks and possibly an eagle. We also saw a raccoon, two porcupine and a (we think) muskrat but they were all dead at the side of the road. Oh, and we smelled a skunk.

There is a little sign at the side of the road that says "Oceanarium" so we decided to call in. It's a small ramshackle collection of buildings, staffed by some very friendly people, and we bought tickets for the full package. The touch tank, the hatchery, the lobster museum and the marsh walk. We were there all morning, listening to them telling us all about lobsters and lobster-related things. The marsh walk was a bit disappointing. We'd expected something more taxing than 20 minutes of very gentle strolling around the boardwalk in the grounds, but we saw a chipmunk.

Today we head back to New Hampshire and then on to Cape Cod. Hurrah.

Postcard number 2

The much-vaunted thunderstorm of last night failed to show up. Bah.  

So far we haven't been eaten by a bear, crashed into a moose on the Interstate or been flattened by a tornado. So far so good then.

The clay pigeon shooting lesson this morning was excellent. All the more so because I shot quite well, hitting about 2/3 of the clays. Yay me.

This afternoon we drove up to Boothbay Harbor and enjoyed a late lunch at a restaurant on the water, watching small boats coming and going in the sunshine. 

Maine is ridiculously scenic. Blue lakes, green woods, picture postcard skies, it's gorgeous.

We found a little shop selling art and souvenirs. Well, there are loads of shops like that, but this was the only one where all the merchandise is made in the USA rather than in China. I bought a few carved wooden birds, Mr WithaY bought a bronze model of a humpback whale. We felt like patrons of the arts.

Our day began rather well at breakfast. There's a small cafe next to our hotel where we went to eat, and they are unbelievably cheerful in there. Perky, even.

I ordered their "country style breakfast" mainly because it came with "eggs over easy". I have always wanted to know what they are. They're fried eggs that have been flipped over, the yolks still nice and runny. Nom nom nom. 

It also came with bacon and sausage. So far so good. But wait! What else did it come with? Pancakes? Nom nom nom indeed.

My experience of breakfast pancakes is limited. I wasn't expecting a two-plate breakfast.  A schoolboy error. 

Mr WithaY helped me out, but we had to admit defeat and leave some. Pancakes seem to be designed as an efficient method of getting as much maple syrup into you as fast as possible.

Made a change from lobster though.

Last night was enlivened by a family with small children shrieking, stomping and crashing around our floor of the hotel until almost 1am. 

At one point, unable to sleep for the godawful racket, I looked out through the peephole in our door. One of the children, a boy of about 7 I'd guess, was running backwards and forwards along the corridor over and over. Parents. Fuckers.

I found my earplugs and after that the night was undisturbed.

Mr WithaY and I found t-shirts saying  "Shit Creek Survivor" so we bought one each. Seemed appropriate somehow. Mr WithaY also bought a hat with moose antlers on it. It's very stylish.  I foresee many photo opportunities. 

We're having a great time.

Blasted

We're in Maine, at a hotel with free WiFi. Hurrah.  

The very helpful man at Reception let me use his phone to ring the bank and get my card unlocked, so I'm solvent again. Apparently the bank locked my card because there was a transaction made in the UK in between transactions in the USA. 

That would be because I topped up my mobile, using the miracle that is the telephone system. Gah.

We are waiting for a pizza to be delivered to our room and then we plan to watch X Men Origins on TV. I am loving America. 

Terrifyingly, there was just a Severe Thunderstorm Warning on the TV. Apparently there are storms, strong winds and deadly raindrops heading our way. 

That is all well and good, I've lived through a fair few scary thunderstorms. 

What is really alarming is the loud alarm-clock style beeping and the voice-over on the TV telling us how severe the thunderstorms will be.

We changed the channel. Hopefully there won't be any terrifying warnings while we watch the film.

Oh, and we're off for a clay pigeon shooting lesson tomorrow morning. Assuming that the place hasn't been blown into the next State by a freak tornado or blasted into a smoking crater by the lightning.
  

Postcard number 1

Excuse the somewhat dull format. I've been using my iPhone to write this, and the editing options are limited.

We're in America! Hurrah! The flight was mostly uneventful, although enlivened by the stewardess chatting to the man sitting in the row in front of us.

Stewardess: Gosh, you look like that guy, you know, the one who killed that poor girl in Aruba.

Man: (somewhat taken aback) What? I look like that guy?

Stewardess: (unembarrassed) Yeah...I mean, you look like a good person and all. But you kinda look like him. Older, though, and kinda heavier.

So. She basically told him that he looks like an old, fat, murderer. Mr WithaY got extra ginger biscuits from his stewardess.

We landed at Boston and had a nerve-wracking wait in the queue to have our passports (and visas) examined. The man who checked our documents was small and wiry, with a face that looked as though it never, ever smiled.  He asked lots of questions about the purpose of our visit. Mr WithaY said "vacation" and I said "holiday" at the same time. He wanted to know the approximate value of the little gifts we had brought for our friends, he asked us that twice. We were both fingerprinted, I had to tuck my hair behind my ears to be photographed - apparently everyone has unique earlobes - and then we were waved through with a "Well, you folks have a good vacation." I have seldom been so relieved.

Our hotel in Boston was a small, old-fashioned motor inn called The Midtown. It was comparatively inexpensive and very handy for the Christian Science Plaza. The staff were lovely. The Irish concierge gave us lengthy (and helpful) suggestions about which Trolley tours to take, and what day would be best for a harbour trip.

We went all over the city on the Trolley, ticket valid for two days, includes harbour trip, and hopped on and off to look at the sights. We went up to the top of the Prudential building, 50 floors up, and looked at the city from there. We went to the New England Aquarium, and spent ages watching the staff in all their Scuba kit trying to catch an injured parrot fish. As they explained, the sharks were starting to look at it speculatively. 

We went to the Imax and watched Avatar on the HUGE screen in 3-D which was captivating. 

We ate more clam chowder than I thought humanly possible, lobster rolls, the truly fine eggs Benedict at a little cafe down the street for breakfast, and of course some ice cream. 

Now we're in New Hampshire, staying with some wonderful friends. We've been shopping (clothes! Shoes! Weird pictures of ducks!), been to see fireworks and sand sculptures, and eaten lobster and steamers.

Yesterday Mr WithaY and I ventured out to the White Mountains and had a trip on the North Conway railway. We sat in big comfy wicker chairs in an elegant Pullman carriage, and admired the scenery at a sedate pace. I loved it. Then we had ice cream.

My weight loss is going to be severely compromised, but I don't care.

Of course there's been fun and high jinks with the admin. What foreign holiday is complete without the bank putting a lock on your cards for no apparent reason? Mr WithaY tried to use his in a cash machine in Boston and the computer said no. Mine was fine. I withdrew cash, paid for stuff in Barnes and Noble, bought stuff in the shops here in NH. Mr WithaY had to call the bank in England and ask them to unlock his card. Yesterday, almost a week after arriving here, i tried to use it abd discovered that my card was locked. So I have to phone the bank and ask them to unlock it.

We bought dollars from them before we came over. I had a lengthy chat with the manager of our local branch about our forthcoming holiday. Even so, somebody somewhere has decided that our cards have been stolen, and helpfully stopped us from accessing our money.

Bastards.

It'll get sorted, it's just a bit tiresome to have to gaff about when we could be doing more fun stuff.

We have a Jeep! When we went to pick up the car from the desk at the airport, the nice lady looked us up and down and told us that the car we'd booked was no good. And when she asked us how long we were here for, and how much driving we planned on doing, she laughed outright.

She upgraded our car by (I think) 3 sizes, only charged us as if we'd gone up by one size, and told the man who took us out to the car park "Give them something nice." We picked the Jeep. It's great.

Today we head North into Maine for a few days. More trees, more mountains, more lobster. And I hope we see a moose.