Storrow Drive from the luxury spot of not having to drive in that freak show. (photo from

Ever since moving to Boston – or actually, the northern area of the region – I’ve had the pleasure of driving up and down Storrow Drive. It’s a stretch of road which cuts through Back Bay between the lovely neighbourhoods and Charles River in a rather unfortunate urban design that deprives people of the opportunity to truly enjoy the greenery on the riverside from one of Boston’s most beautiful and affluent neighbourhoods. You’d think it was a conspiracy by the working class in Boston to make life difficult for the wealthy.

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“Excuse me, do you have a washroom here?”

“A wa-what?”

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A piggyback ride?

Posted: August 1, 2013 in Uncategorized


Yes, that title is a very deliberate pun. Here I was, this morning, driving through the center of Woburn after dropping off the kids at daycare, when I saw a cop – yes, a bonafide Woburn city policeman – hitching a ride on the back of a construction truck.

That’s something you don’t see everyday.

I have to say that after nearly a year here in Massachusetts, I’ve found cops to be a somewhat different breed than their peers in Vancouver. More relaxed isn’t the right term, but I do find them a little more easy as they go about their business, not quite standoffish like they are in Vancouver. And, weirdly, less intimidating, if not more glum faced and serious looking.

But their ease of being with the community is on display here. You’ll never find a cop hitching a ride on the back of a construction truck in Vancouver, that’s for sure.


See there, that’s proof of the hotness that has descended on this dear state of Massachusetts. Apparently heat records being set all over.

Image  —  Posted: July 18, 2013 in Uncategorized

Hot stuff

Posted: July 15, 2013 in Uncategorized

Dressed in a leather bodice over a double-layer floor-length skirt complete with a tankard and pistol, Kat Kingsley, 28, a tour guide at King’s Chapel, prepared for her performance as Loyalist sympathizer Baroness Agnes Franklin. (COLM O’MOLLOY FOR THE BOSTON GLOBE)

Allow me to extend to my few (many?) readers a sincere apology for the utter lack of content on this blog since the week of April 15, 2013. It’s been a few months befitting the life of a lunatic – in-laws have been staying with us, a few other guests here and there, and in the midst of it all we are working on a big move to a new home in Malden.

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A child is comforted after explosions went off at the Boston Marathon. (Jessica Rinaldi/Reuters)#

On the day of the 9/11 attacks, I was on a plane from Budapest to Kyiv, Ukraine, where I started an internship for the United Nations Development Programme. My first duty in my new position, which began on Sept. 12, 2001, was to write a letter of condolences from the UN to the American Embassy.

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Many years ago, my buddy and I jumped into my Volkswagen Westfalia and headed south from Vancouver, Canada. We were bound for Mexico – we only made it as far as New Mexico, but that’s another story – and experienced one of the most hair-raising drives I’ve ever had on the way there. In Salt Lake City, Utah, no less.

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