Home without ado

(Today, there’s a general strike of public employees in the UK and fears have been reported that as a result of Border Control staff being on strike, waits at Heathrow could be up to 12 hours.  We were already booked on a BA flight scheduled to arrive at Heathrow at 8.30am on the morning of the strike)

As we dropped off our bags at Logan Airport, the BA clerk asked if we’d like to change to an earlier flight.  We hummed for the shortest of times before declining the kind thought – after all, it’s a quicker journey on a 747 and we had already secured our favourite seats.

But of course, we were a little anxious about what might await us at Heathrow and no amount of reasoning that we are registered IRIS users, could have gone “Fast Track” through immigration and have both also got scannable passports too could save us from the worry that we simply didn’t know how it would be.  Not only that, but neither did anyone else!  So, we settled in for the five and a half hours sleep that’s the journey home and were happy to fly over our little corner of the world around 7.30am this morning, as we were finishing our breakfast and preparing to land.

At 8am, we walked off the plane to be greeted by a posse of smiling people wearing bright purple T shirts giving clear directions of where to go for connecting flights or to passport control.  Everyone was steered into clearly designated channels right from the start and whoever had been out with those black poles and webbing barriers had done a great job.  We walked past crates marked “Passenger Welfare” containing apples, KitKats and other snacks – everything had been prepared ready, though thankfully, not a bit of it was needed. 

When we arrived in the immigration hall we gasped…it was empty!  Every passport control desk was staffed and we all sailed right through.  We used the IRIS machine as usual, but none of those scanning their own passport nor the others going through the regular check had to wait. 

No emergency KitKats for us then.

Down in the baggage reclaim it was a similar story.  Staff were on hand to offload the luggage as it arrived, to avoid the chance of it piling up as the owners were delayed earlier in the system.  But of course, with no delays, we simply walked up and picked up our suitcases already there and waiting for us and wheeled through the Customs post and out to our waiting car.

At 8.30am we were on the motorway.

Last day in Boston

Tradition has it that we leave one place outstanding for the morning we’ve packed and checked out of the hotel and in Boston, that usually means a stroll up to the Museum of Fine Arts, one of our all-time favourites.

Today was no exception and we were able to get there just before it opened, in time to take a photograph of what I now think of as Jordi’s Native American!

The first eyecatching exhibit was…well, of course, it ought to have been that enormous reproduction of one of the Degas Nudes but actually, it was Dale Chiluly’s Lime Green Icicle Tower!

Positioned in the new atrium area of the museum, where it catches the light and everyone’s attention, it is a truly magnificent piece.

It invites a closer look, of course and the glass shimmers in both natural sunshine and the spotlights which feature it.

The reflections in the highly polished base are interesting too.

After that little excitement, I’m sorry to say that we didn’t really take the Degas exhibition to our hearts – something about the voyeuristic nature of his work, most probably.  Stunning pastels and of course, wonderful observations.  But ultimately, we both felt that the process was more captivating than the product – especially the monotype prints where he had begun with a completely black inked plate and worked backwards, as it were.  I also love his quickly formed sculptures of the dancers, standing in awkward poses and admire the fine lines of the body, the solid stance and slightly unfinished nature of the things.  So, we brought away a few positive thoughts and left the bulk of the sketches of brothels behind…

 

For a while, we pottered about visiting our favourites.  The black and white photography of the 1930s, the Tiffany glass, the delightful portraits of the “Boston School” and the large Singer Sargeant portraits which we both love to see every time we come here.

Of course, there is always the chance for an unexpected delight and standing in front of a pair of black double doors, we wondered if we should go in.  What was in there?  The Clock?  Christian who?  Marclay?  Never heard of him…

The decision to allow our curiosity to take over was the best one of the morning!  Probably all you tuned in, culturally aware readers will have known all about this from the BBC News report from this time last year.  We knew nothing.  this had completely passed us by.

 (If the embedded YouTube video of a BBC news report doesn't seem to be working,  Click here)

We sat and watched, not realising at first that the time in the film was the actual time but as it gradually dawned on us that we were watching something in real time, both of us became rather anxious about what might happen at noon, which was rapidly approaching.  But 12 o’clock came and went and still we sat, captivated by the whole experience, the emotional roller coaster, the nostalgia of seeing familiar faces and clips from films we recognised.  Eventually, we had to summon up our senses and leave…because we could have stayed there for hours.

 (If this embedded video doesn't seem to be working, you can watch a clip of the Clock here)

As it happens, this is part of the piece we saw – Colin Firth appearing twice and Steed looking terribly young.  These three minutes give a good impression, I think and perhaps offer some kind of explanation as to why we found ourselves returning to the subject time and again for the rest of the day.

Marvellous.

But it really was time for us to go.  We returned to our favourite Legal Seafoods and enjoyed a late lunch before going to the airport and checking in for our flight home.  Quite what lies in store for us tomorrow, with the strikes and all manner of chaos threatened in the immigration hall, who knows?  Hopefully, the stars will be in alignment, the wind in the right direction and we’ll sail through.

Fingers crossed.

Heard on tv

My hero just commented on the closing question posed by the TV presenter to her young interviewee who was talking about her recent life-changing experience. He remarked that it wasn't the first time he'd heard this question but that it appeared to be a common trend.

"and who would you like to play yourself in the movie?"

To the Cape

Another incredibly warm day, with 66F forecast.  We decided to head for the coast, just south of here, to Cape Cod.  We’ve heard plenty about the place, had vivid pictures in our minds of smart coastal living, Kennedy family haunts and cool sea breezes.  Just the thing to keep us awake and amused for our last full day here.

Of course, we drove through places with familiar names once more – Massachusetts is full of them- and stopped for breakfast in Falmouth at Crabapples.  The corned beef hash fan was fully in favour of this choice and the pancake girl wasn’t disappointed either!

Taking the suggestions of the wise lady in the Falmouth Visitor centre on board, we headed along the coast slightly south of the town, to Wood Hole.  We expected a cosy, charming coastal town, sleepy in this closed season, but what we actually found was a busy build up community centring on the Coastguard HQ and a marine science research facility.  We drove a little further north along the coast and almost by mistake, stumbled upon the beach.  Aha!  this was the kind of thing we were expecting.  We decided to drive a little further up the coast and stop for a while to take a walk.

Sadly, it took many miles of driving through what seemed to us like ordinary US suburbia with no sea or sand in sight before we arrived in Chatham.  At last, we could get out of the car and stretch our legs, admire the views and feel the wind in our hair.  Chatham itself looked just the kind of place we’d imagined – but we’d had to travel quite a way up the Cape to find it.

Once again, the National Parks came up trumps.  We stopped at the Visitor Centre for the National Seashore and chatted a while to the lady on the desk, gladly hearing that the northern part of the Cape was going to be the windswept coast we were looking for.  Whilst we were there, we learned a little about cranberries, too.

We’d driven past several “dried up ponds” – or so they appeared, but here we caught sight of a photograph of a cranberry bog and realised what we’d been passing by earlier in the day.  Of course, once we’d learned to recognise a cranberry bog, we didn’t see another…until we were about to leave the Cape behind later in the afternoon and I was able to catch a snap through the car window. 

Sorry, a truly hopeless photograph but hopefully having shared it, we’ll all recognise a cranberry bog when we next see one!

We managed to get as far as Wellfleet before feeling that we ought to turn around and start heading back.  We’d seen horrendous traffic on the way out this morning and we didn’t want to risk having to pay another day’s hire for the car because of it.  Nevertheless, we had time to park on the pier and enjoy a wander around the harbour, which was very quiet today.

I enjoyed taking some pictures of the kind of thing I sometimes take pictures of – if you know what I mean!  I have no idea what these things are, but I have a couple of dozen very interesting photographs of them from all angles and degrees of zoom.

I then discovered I had company!

And a namesake.

But half an hour and the light was beginning to go.  Time to head on back.

We negotiated the “Rotarys” once again and amused ourselves with possible interpretations of another road sign we’ve seen for the first time today.

Of course, we were back in Boston well before closing time at the Hertz facility and in plenty of time to consider the one remaining dilemma of the day.

Where to eat dinner tonight?!

At the Mill

OK, enough shopping!  Regardless of the bargains to be had, we have our limits and this morning, we drove northwest from Boston towards Lowell, formerly the textile capital of the USA and now home to a collection of buildings in the care of the US National Parks.  I had read about the city here on one of my favourite blogs a few weeks ago and had made a note, hoping to visit before long.

Well, the day dawned a little cooler and as we drove out into the suburbs it turned rather damp and foggy.  Still, we had fun driving through places with familiar names, spelled a little creatively perhaps!

In no time at all we were there – Sunday morning on the freeway after a busy weekend was a good time to negotiate unfamiliar territory.  We were to find ourselves the only visitors for most of the time, with National Park staff going out of their way to show videos “on demand”, start slide shows as we reached particular locations and generally do what they could to make our visit rather special.

Having learned enough about the city to begin finding out more, we strolled through empty streets over to Bootts Mill, where we could visit the museum proper.  See how damp and dreary a morning it was – even the newly lit Christmas trail of lights couldn’t lift the place and it all felt very bleak indeed.

This wasn’t only a place for those of us with an interest in textiles, either.

As we approached the museum, we were missing our Golden Pass holder!  Nonetheless, this was another shining example of the US National Parks at their best – beautifully preserved and presented buildings introduced by the most charming and knowledgeable staff.  In spite of the weather, we were so pleased we’d come here.

Above all, it looked very familiar indeed!

We loved comparing then and now

and spent a while trying to imagine how it must have felt to have been there in the early 19th century, when this mill was at the height of its success.

Inside, having “clocked in”, we watched as one by one, the looms clanked into action, prompted by our arrival.  Though only half a dozen or so were working, the noise was incredible and the one lady weaver was kept busy managing the process of keeping all of them running smoothly.  We watched as she reloaded a shuttle, resolved a small problem which had halted one of the looms here and there and summoned up all lipreading skills as we exchanged brief greetings.

The incredible noise of the working looms.

We wandered about, marvelling at the technological advances which resulted in the huge upheaval in manufacturing.  Such a simple process, relatively simple technology and yet enough to change the world for so many people.

Wow.

Though we’ve visited mills at home, I’m not sure that any have been as well explained or given such a clear impression of what it must have been like to have worked in such a place.

Upstairs, a museum told the story in greater detail with another well produced and thought provoking film about the Mill Girls (download a leaflet about them here) I spent a while marvelling at this great model of the mill and the activities which took place in each part of it.

The last part of the display centred on the products of this mill and finished with a few questions to provoke thoughts about why this and other cotton mills closed.  Particularly aimed at children and younger people, the dilemmas faced by us all were clearly outlined – do we want to pay more for quality or be satisfied with cheaper, less well made clothes?  Should we continue to rely on imported goods or show our support by wearing home produced garments?  Quite right to aim these questions at the generation who will face many more of this kind of problem and hope that they will use what they learn about what happened here and elsewhere to take wise decisions for the future.

We were certainly given plenty of food for thought and from time to time throughout the rest of the day, our conversation returned to such things.

How telling, however, that a brief stop in JoAnns to fulfil a little shopping list for one or two bits involved standing in a queue of people buying half price fleece fabric printed in ghastly designs.  Where was the beautifully woven woollen fabric?  The home produced fine cotton?  Sadly not in my hand either (I was buying tulle and polyester lining)  My curiosity got the better of me though and I had to ask the sales assistant what everyone was going to do with all of this fleece?  “Make tied blankets” was the reply.  Two large squares of fleece placed back to back and a fringe cut around the outside.  Each piece of fringe was then knotted to hold the two layers together, she explained, giving me “one of those looks” which revealed exactly her opinion of such things!

The bargain of the day?  A new cutting mat and a new pair of very sharp scissors, both at 60% of their normal price – $6 each.  Wow.

Oh, and Jordi, I paid homage to the building on the corner of Beacon as we passed by.  It now bears the sign “Sovereign” on the outside – a bank?