Oxford v Coventry

Luckily I am long past the age that I really get upset at my team losing. Lucky indeed given the regularity with which they now do. So watching this match didn't detract from a nice weekend with my friends. They were somewhat bemused by me taking a photo of the Kazzam stadium as we walked in. Of course, in a photogenic city like Oxford this seems a highly unlikely choice of subject matter. Although there is something quite striking about the modern stadium just appearing above the shrubbery.

Having arrived in good time, Quen decided to purchase some chips to keep us going, so here is the Dury family caught in mid-chip. There is something ever so appealing about a good old-fashioned chip, as opposed to those horrible fried things you get out of MacDonalds.

So, onto the match. Which, as a City fan, was a horror story start to finish. A goal down early on, three down buy half-time, a better second half but despite a lot of effort, got caught on the break for a fourth and then genuinely game over. A consolation goal deep into injury time from the penalty spot was little consolation.

Mascots get smaller and more numerous every season.

 The most unusual feature of the game was an injury to one of The Oxford players. He was put into a brace and carried off very carefully for fear of a spinal injury. So the game actually had nearly 12 minutes of stoppage time.

 After lunch together on Sunday we went our separate ways but before the train departed I felt I ought to visit the Weston Library, whose restoration and development had recently been shortlisted for the RIBA architecture prize for 2016. Done a decent amount with limited material, but basically its an unattractive 20th century building compared to the Sheldonian on the other side of the road. Compare and contrast.

Last of New England (and an unexpected bit of Temples)

Solast dy of the holiday. And farewell to our little flat. Well we had an extra night, but would be up befoe dawn next morning for our flight. So last chance to see the view from our little balcony.

Then on into town.

We decided upon a seafood restaurant for lunch in Back Bay, to be followed by an afternoon trip to Salem. Not a good move. Atlantic Fisnh Company had pretensions to fine dining, but food not up to it. And especially annoying was the fact that Thibault got ID'd (which was normal) but they wouldn't accept a driving licence as evidence of age - unlike every where else we had been. On top of that Thibault's shellfish platter ended up all being deep fried in breadcrumbs and could frankly have just been fish and chips. On top of that with the time taken and the odd train times, there would be a 2 hour gap to the next train to Salem, so making it not worth the trip. Thibault couldn't face going round Harvard, and having walked around most of Boston the day before, the best option was the Fine Ats Museum. To which of course I had been the night before. However, the tickets allow for two visits, so I was quite happy top return and take in some of the parts I hadn't seen while Thibault did the rest.

After that there wasn't much to do but return home, pack, and then find somewhere nice for dinner. After looking at various options we decided to go back to Back Bay to the sushi restaurant we had visited on our first night, Douzo,  but this time book a table. There is always the concern that if you return its not quite as exciting as the first time. But actually this was an excellent choice. They had a sushi and sashimi platter, which after a starter was, as we were warned bu your waiter, quite a lot of food. And so it was, but we managed it. And a very happy experience it was. Truly delicious. So after a maybe rather disappointing last day, we had a very enjoyable last meal. (That sounds like an execution!)

I have friends who turn up their noses at lots of raw fish, but then so would I have done a few years ago. Sometimes you just have to try things.

The other nice thing I felt by the end of our meal was that I had now completed my third holiday with Thibault without us falling out. I may not have been his optimum holiday partner, but we were still good friends at the end. And holidays tend to be quite a strain on friendships. I think our success is a non-negative thing. Its not how much we like each other or our similar interests (which are close to negligible) but that we don't actually irritate each other. And generally if you spend enough time with someone something irritates.

So final leg was plane home at horribly early start, which required an uber trip to the airport. But we got there and all smooth flying. But one last little thrill for me just about to head into customs at Heathrow. For just as we were both about to enter I saw someone I recognised - the guitarist from Temples. So while Thibault pressed on through Customs I turned round to see the whole band there. Needless to say I wanted to chat, but was too tired to be properly coherent. My "Excuse me, but are you Temples" was a bit otiose, given that the last time I had seen them play I was close enough to the guitarist to read his set-list on the floor in front of him. Even without my glasses. I think they were at least as surprised to be recognised, not perhaps per se, but by someone my age who wasn't actually their parents. Unfortunately I couldn't say much given Thibault had ploughed on through Customs and, if I didn't follow soon, would think I had been detained and strip searched as potential drug-smuggler. Ah well, so much for my brush with the (not very) famous.

(And no, no photographs. I am sorry but at my age I just couldn't bring myself to ask for a selfie.

Boston Museum of Fine Arts

Friday night in Boston and Thibault and I decided to split up for the evening. He wanted to do a Halloween party, and ended up going on a fancy dress Halloween pub crawl. I meanwhile preferred the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, which stayed open until 10 pm, so I had a good 4 hours to wander round it while Thibault chatted up the locals in a vampire costume. To which he looked rather too well suited for comfort.

Unfortunately we only had one key between us, but I said that would be fine, leave the key with me as I will be home first, and don't worry what time you get in, just call me as I am a good sleeper. I can easily go back after I am woken up.

So this was my first time on the Boston Metro on my own. Very exciting. Well not really. But it isn't too bad a system. And some of the trains become trams overground, such as the one I needed - going to Museum station. Convenient.

Now Boston Museum of Fine Arts is a terrific Museum. I just loved it. Best of all, it was really quiet. It seems most Bostonians have better things to do with their Friday nights - such as drinking with Thibault. Fine by me - their loss (sorry Thibault). Just lovely to wander around galleries where I was either the only person there or there would just be one or two others. Certainly no crowds. Wish our museums and galleries had such long opening hours.

The Museum is a bit like the National Gallery and British Museum rolled into one. Unfortunately given my particular fetish for Greek and Roman artefacts, the collection is a little weak on them. Better on Egyptian.

 The Museum has been extended, offering a big open central atrium.

This is an actual discus. Marble.

This is a particular rarity. Head and plinth are all original. Almost all Roman busts are on later plinths and have much (usually Renaissance) restoration.

Moving from the ancient world to medieval I liked this little chapel.

Winslow Homer

 The gallery devoted to John Singer Sargeant was one of my favourites - an underrated artist in my view, although not in the early part of the 20th century where he clearly got a lot of top commissions. The most popular society portraitist of his day.

One of the most impressive exhibits was this modern one of mirrored glass vessels.

The collection of Impressionist art is absolutely top notch. Especially Monet.

 Was less impressed by the Contemporary Art Galleries

Oriental art was a strength though.

I was one of the last to leave. Hungry by now I stopped off for a takeaway pizza and then settled down to await the T man. He texted me about 1:30am to seek admittance. Unfortunately having got all the way down the flights of stairs he wasn't there. Expecting a Halloween prank I just went back up, only to be followed by a more plaintive text. He had sensibly texted me a couple of minutes early before arriving, expecting me to need a little while to get dressed to come down, but I was better prepared than anticipated, so had beaten him to the door. Two of us not anticipating how much the other might anticipate!