Wednesday 10th October 2018 (updated)

Amazingly, it is a week since my last working day, and time is already flying through my fingers. Our fingers.

But time had come for us to bid New York goodbye, pack our things and head north to Beantown, Boston, for a few days.

We laid in bed for a while, me coughing loudly from time to time, then Jools announcing she has now caught the cold. Or a cold. Might not be mine. I don't want to appear possessive about it.

Anyway, we have to pack, get all the clothes we have brought back into the case ready for the trip. We had hours to get it done, so we take hours, and had decided to have breakfast at Penn Station rather than go to our usual haunt.

At ten we are done, so go down to check out, and ask for the bellhop to call a cab. We had the most reasonable man in New York driving us, who spoke with knowledge of global events and current affairs; of Brexit and Trump. We end up agreeing that there was little any of us could do.

He made the journey to the station seem so effortless, it was a shame when we arrived. Outside the station, or stations, more of that in a minute, it was mad. Two drunks, so out of they could hardly stand, panhandled us for change, the woman incapable of speech in fact. We dashed over the road to the wonderful building on the other side only to find there are two Penn Stations, and this grand one is the New Jersey railway, the other, more Euston-like, was back on the other side of the road.

We cross back over and begin the hunt for breakfast, which we thought would be civilised. But all there was were a series of fast food places, and people everywhere. Who'd have thought that fnding somewhere to eat could be so difficult?

We walk to Penn station, hoping we'd find something to eat there, and upon entering the grand building, a member of staff asked us where we were heading. Once we said Boston he told us trains here just ran to Long Island, we had to go back over the street. Once we were in the other (half) of the station, we looked, but the restaurants were still closed, but We'found a table at a deli and I get food. And it still cost thirty backs or so, no cheapness even there. But we needed to eat. But, we did get to do some serious people watching, as the station seemed to attract all sorts.

Then began the wait for the train, sitting in the waiting room for the train to be called, then wait some more to find which platform it was coming in on. When it was announced platform 9, there was a mad rush and we were at the back, but a member of staff opened another stairway down onto the platform, so we go on really quick, found two spare seats in business, still trying to work out what was business or different from the cattle class tickets, just as cramped and hard seats, but at least the seats lined up with the windows, unlike back home.

And off we go into a tunnel under east Manhattan, under the East River and out into the Bronx. We get fine views over the rooftops with the Manhattan skyline as a backdrop, until the train dips and dives through the New York suburbs, and in half an hour, into the countryside. Although we had seats at a table, footroom was at a premium, and so we were ja,,ed in, unable to move, unless I get up to go to the buffet, where there is a fine choice of snacking.

I like a good train journey, especially one I have not been on before, so I am enthralled as the train passes through many towns with identical names as some back home, most look the same, but after a while we are beside the sea, and whizz through a series of resorts and fishing villages until we pass into Connecticut. Taking shots from a moving train is never good, but with the compact, it was next to useless, but I carry on taking them.

All the towns blur into one, Stamford, New Haven, Yale University all pass by. We stop a couple of times, drop passengers off, pick up only a handful. Into Rhode Island, a state I have been to before, but we are in and out of it pretty quick, and then into Boston.

Outside the station we flag the angriest cabdriver in Boston to take us to the hotel; he is on the horn all the while, not indicating, and angry at everyone. We tip him at the hotel just glad to be out of his presence. Even the concierge is taken aback by the guys attitude.

Out hotel is swish. Posh even, named after one in London, The Langham. The bellhop wears a bowler hat and carries our bags to check in, but we say we can carry our own cases thank you very much. So save a few bucks in tips.

Upstairs we find we have a suite, and plenty of room to spread our rags and tattered clothes. I check the TV and find dozens of channels, nothing on, but I stop at a sports one.

Lets go out to eat!

Boston has changed huge amounts since I was last here a decade and a half ago, I have no idea where we are or where to go. We walk up through the commercial district to a main shopping street, down that, but can see nowhere to eat. Lots of great looking shops, if that's your thing, but nowhere to eat.

I then spy a place, the Boston Chop, we go in. Also, very swish. A hundred bucks for a bog standard bottle of red, so we pass. But they do a good steak which was about the size of a burger, which is good. They did do bigger ones, and Kobe too, but for those you got no sides with the meat, so had to build up your own meal with each side costing near ten bucks!And we have crème brulee to follow, and all is right with the world. Until the bill comes. We would eat in bars from now on we decided.

We walk back through the city centre until I find what I was looking for; the Freedom Trail, which we will follow tomorrow. I take shots of buildings, some old, some new, all interesting, until Jools says she is tired, so we try to find the hotel. Finding your way back on the first day is always an adventure, but there are plenty of street maps, and soon we are at the park outside the Langham.

Back inside I have a shower, Jools watches some Breaking Bad, and another day has passed us by.