Magical mystery train to PK

So we didn't get to New Bedford this weekend. I wanted to get Lucy out of the city because I knew it would be hot and humid and tiring for her, and I wasn't wrong. We managed one more day in the city yesterday (with trips to Ihop in Brooklyn, the Target in the sky, two games of Ticket to Ride Europe on my roof terrace, and a trip to wholefoods to buy our picnic lunch for Sunday) but today we needed to escape. We needed dry and cool, so we headed north, away from the city and away from the coast.


And where is there to go up north? Well, we didn't rightly know, so we decided to go to Grand Central and get on the first train leaving the station. And that would be the 10.50 express service to Poughkeepsie. It's on the Hudson River line, so we figured green and leafy, perhaps a bit historic. And Lucy knew the kids would love it that she went somewhere with Poo in the name. So what's in Poo-keepsie? A train station, a freeway, a concrete whale, a small park along the river, and, oh well hang on this is quite exciting... the Mid-Hudson Bridge. And here's a picture:
That's me looking so much like Mum. She's cute, isn't she! Oh and we did make a friend.
His name is John. He lives on a boat (moored just off to the right) and is writing a book about daredevils.

So it turns out America isn't like Europe. You can't just jump on a random train and find yourself somewhere interesting. I now know you either stick to the city, or you get on a plane. To somewhere really exciting. Like Cleveland or Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Still, it's fun just to say we did it. It reminded us both of the phone calls we used to get from Stephen when he was in London for the summer, when he'd announce he was in such uninspiring locales as Lewisham or Harrow-on-the-Hill. What are you doing there, we'd ask. "Well, I thought I'd stay on the bus to the end of the line, just to see what was there."

Anyway, we were back in the city by dinner time and ate at a restaurant in Battery Park City, with a view of the Liberty and Ellis Islands.
We also went on another train ride this weekend, to Newark Airport. The least said about that, the better, but we did take a nice picture on the way.Note the smiles. This was the outbound journey! I shall simply have to go to New Bedford another weekend. I think I'll make a day trip of it one weekend this month, although it shalln't be a fraction as fun as going with my little sister.

Shafted and delighted

Our New Bedford trip is off. Stupid nonsense with driving licenses and credit cards, and I don't know what. A wasted trip out to Newark Airport and my eyes are soooo tired now. We tried an alternative route picking up a car in Connecticut, but no good. So we're stuck in the city. Crap.

But.... on a much happier note....while we were waiting for the PATH train back to Manhattan, and my spirits were at a pretty low ebb and just in time to cheer me up, I finally got to feel Lucy's baby move. No big kicks, just a tiny elbow. I felt a few little nudges, and then he stuck it out and held it there, pressing gently against my hand.

Michael is 23 today

And here we are way back in the summer of '06. Two years younger, and a lot more hair...

Alfred and Moina

It has been a bumper week for genealogy. After having been on hiatus for a while with no new lines of inquiry or interesting discoveries, I have had a simply amazing week.

It started last Saturday with the discovery of the Wisconsin newspaper articles, and continued on Sunday with collecting nearly a hundred Montana newspaper clippings on the Ducies and related families.

On Tuesday I telephoned Lehigh University in Pennsylvania to inquire about access to student records for my great grandfather who studied for an engineering degree there in the teens. Just two days later I received copies in the post from his senior yearbook, including this picture:


We have one baby picture and pictures of Alfred in his later years but nothing from his youth. I was immediately struck by the mouth and chin and then the eyes, which I knew I'd seen before. I was in fits of joy, laughing and dancing round the apartment as I read the following description of Alfred from his yearbook:

"Al has been known throughout these four years as the other half of that immortal combination known as "the Wish Twins". He also comes from Boston. Coming from the classic shades of old Harvard, he still retains enough of his early training to pronounce 'idea' with a heavy 'r'. He came back last fall from a summer's 'practice' in Canada with wondrous tales of his travels. They sounded like a new edition of 'The Arabian Nights' with himself in the role of Inbad the Sailor.

Alfred is a graphic and lengthy desciber: to get a description of a game of bowling from him one endangers the chairs and other furniture in his immediate vicinity and puts the safety of the auditors in jeopardy as well. Al will probably be a success as a salesman of mining stock for the reason that he never allows an opinion to exist which varies one iota from his own."

Opinionated, with the gift of the gab. Remind you of any one?!

I also learned that Alfred was the Lehigh Class of 1913 Treasurer, he was 5'11.5", 162 lbs, his politics were "Bull Moose" and his nickname was "Pat". He was an active member of the Mining & Geological Society and graduated with a Masters in Engineering. So sorry Dad, you weren't the first O'Brien/Bovee to achieve a graduate degree.


But that's not all! I have further tales of graduations, but this time of Alfred's future bride, Miss Moina Ducie of Anaconda, MT and my great grand-mother. On 1 June 1913 The Anaconda Standard reported:

"Mrs. John Ducie will leave for Spokane Wednesday, accompanied by her daugher Miss Evelyn, to attend the commencement week exercises at the Holy Name academy. Miss Moina Ducie, one of Anaconda's most popular girls, is a member of the graduationg class, and it will be a gala week for the Montana representatives at the festivities."

The article was accompanied by a picture of 18 year-old Moina:

Moina also studied at St Vincent's Academy in Salt Lake City and Gonzaga College. She was quite the society young lady, appearing at all the best parties and gatherings in Anaconda and Butte, as befit her status as daughter of John Ducie, one of the most prominent citizens of southwestern Montana. There were several articles about his various mining and real estate interests, from which I can only conclude - as we've always suspected - that he was probably filthy rich.

How the celebrated Miss Ducie ended up the wife of humble mining engineer Alfred O'Brien remains a small mystery. Oh and what happened to all the money. That too. And the collection of dinosaur fossils. And the gem stone collection. And yes, the largest sapphire in the world. I just need to get my hands on the 1916-1926 issues of The Anaconda Standard.

This one is for Jonathan

Your great-great-great-grandfather was interested in dinosaurs as well. He even kept some in the house. Article

Sad accidental drowning

This is my great-grandfather’s youngest brother, Truman, aged about 1o. Despite the dour expression typical of old photographs (they had to pose for up to 10 minutes while the plate developed), I think he’s quite a sweet looking little fellow. I know from his death certificate that he drowned at the age of just 20, but no further explanation was given and I had been thinking only the other week that I would never know if it was drunkenness or tomfoolery on his part, or just a tragic accident. But Ancestry.com have recently expanded they’re collection of digitised Wisconsin newspapers, and quite by chance I came across this:
As I read this on my computer screen, I was gripped not only by the drama and tragedy of the unfolding tale, but also by the thrill and delight of discovering something I had longed to know. It was a strange mix of emotions.

I bought the new Coldplay record. No surprise my favourite track is called Cemeteries of London.

Poor them

I just heard the most ridiculous news story on BBC World Service. The Saudi "moral police" - we knew them as mutawahs - want regular police protection and danger pay because of a backlash against them from ordinary Saudis. They claim their work has become difficult and dangerous and they want that to be recognised. Bloody cheek!

Essentially, these guys hassle people for a living. They're mostly just a nuisance - I was stopped a couple times in the Saudi city of Khobar where we used to shop occasionally and told my dress was unacceptable and a sign of my deep moral degredation which I had apparently managed to achieve at the tender age of just 12 - but according to the news report last year several mutawahs stopped girls escaping from a burning school because they were not wearing their head scarves and fifteen girls died in the fire. The majority of these moral police, according to the report, are university graduates, which surely proves that education does not make you intelligent.

The irony is, this comes some fifteen years too late. I remember Mum saying that any mutawah that threatened her would certainly need to be ready to defend himself. And our mild-mannered friend Virginia Stewart did actually push and shove one and knocked him off his feet one night as she got on the Khobar shopping bus. She was lauded with a round of applause if I remember correctly. It was one of the most exciting things that ever happened in our Saudi life.

Ticket to Ride

Dave taught me to play Ticket to Ride on Tuesday. In case you don’t know it… TtR is the It game of the summer. You line up little multi-coloured plastic choo-choos across a board displaying a map of the US, traversed by dozens of potential train routes between major cities. Here’s a visual.

So far, I’m pretty crap. But I’ve only played five times (yeah, in just two nights, it’s addictive). But I haven’t just been playing board games (not a euphemism) this week. In fact, in the last 72 hours I’ve been buzzing all over the city, and have crafted my own TtR-esque route maps to show you just how much ground I’ve covered:

Route 1 - yesterday: Wall St. to Sixth Ave/45th to 34th St. to Union Square to 92nd St to Wall St to Fulton St to Wall St.

...but winner of the longest continuous route is...

Route 2 - Weds - Wall St to Sixth Ave/45th St to Grand Central Post Office to Union Sq to 577 Grand St (the ends of the earth!) to Sixth Ave/12th St. to Waterside Plaza to Wall St.

I'm tired.

Just a had a scan down and realised I haven't posted any pictures on this thing since I fell in love with the Audi back in April. I don't carry a camera round the city documenting my New York life, so instead, for a bit of a change, here are some never before seen pictures from recent travels. To my long term readers I offer a challenge to identify as many of the locations as you can. There's a prize in it for whoever can name the most.

Found this rock formation near land my family owned 150 years ago. It amused me to think they probably also stopped and stared, wondering how on earth such a ridiculous looking thing was formed
My favourite place to eat ice cream in the dead of winter

Red flag to a badger

Why do all children collect pebbles in their pockets?

My tomb should be so fancy

There be coal in them hills

The sound of rushing waters

Seriously, there really is a prize.

Wait Until Dark

Since I finished reading my Audrey Hepburn bio a couple months ago, we've been running an unofficial Audrey film season here at 45 Wall. Viewed so far, and following no particular order: Sabrina, Robin and Marian, Paris When It Sizzles, My Fair Lady... and tonight... I was feeling a little woosey at work, so evening plans were cancelled and I came home to a quiet apartment. All the flatmates were out. The perfect time to watch Wait Until Dark.

I don't as a rule have much patience for damsels in distress, and I'm a terrible armchair heroine - grumbling at the characters poor decisions under duress, shouting at the tv telling them to run the other way or just phone the blasted police already! But once Audrey took back contol, smashing out the lights, dousing nasty Alan Arkin with petrol and threatening him with matches, then acquainting him first with her kitchen knife and then a sideboard full of crockery. Ok, then I started to rather enjoy it. Almost makes one want to take on one's own band of sadistic crooks, though I'd rather just outsmart them than have to turn them into shish kabobs. Regrettably, New York is so safe these days...

One of my favourite comedians, Jeremy Hardy, is writing an account of his own family history explorations. The publisher claims it will be "part family memoir, part enquiry into the world of genealogy and part comic adventure - full of detours, wrong turnings and unexpected encounters with strange and interesting people". I can't wait! I love books about genealogy and family stories - I'm currently reading The Lost - and I'm a huge fan of Jeremy Hardy's Radio 4 appearances such as the The News Quiz - listen to the latest episode. I think this is going to be great. He just better hurry up and write the thing.

I've read a few other books that involve family histories like Tracy Chevalier's The Virgin Blue and most recently The Thirteenth Tale. If anyone can think of other similar books - fiction or non-fiction - please let me know. I've got at least another fifty years to keep myself happily entertained...

Overheard at the Bodleian Library (Oxford)

American tourist (to the Bodleian shop assistant): This building is lovely. Is it pre-war?
Shop assistant: Madame, this building is pre-America.

Thumbs up for Indy

Just listened to a glowing review of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on BBC Radio 4 arts show. Fingers crossed!

And speaking of music... I think I'm going to have to book myself in here. I loved The Sound of Music when I was a little girl, my favourite film. One of the most wonderful things I ever did was going on the Sound of Music tour in and around Salzburg. I was 7. We visited all the places where they filmed, the houses, the lake, the gazebo. I was so happy. And, I don't remember this myself, but according to Mum I sang all the songs the whole journey and at the end the couple sitting in front of us turned around and said thank you and how much theyhad enjoyed my little soundtrack.

I finally listened to Radiohead's In Rainbows. All the hype and controversy - and gnashing of teeth at EMI - I just wasn't interested when it was first released. I suppose I like it. It's good, much like Hail To the Thief. It's not one of the records that I go bonkers for and listen to over and over and over again. Last record like that was Interpol (Our Love to Admire), and before that probably Arcade Fire (Neon Bible). There's also a bizarre webcast which I rather enjoyed - I love that it pokes fun at Se7en which is the stupidest loved itself and up its own rear end film I've ever seen.

I haven't spent much time listening to music in a long while. That used to be such a big part of my life, listening to new music trying to find the best, going to see bands, that's nearly all Lauren and I did for ages. I guess my enthusiasm waned when I lost my partner in crime. (Lauren, please come back to New York). But sometimes I'm in the mood so to speak and I'll go out and buy a bunch of new records. I'm also listening to Regina Spektor (Begin to Hope), Goldfrapp (Seventh Tree) and Band of Horses (Cease to Begin).

And I'm watching back to back episodes of the BBC show Life on Mars (modern day policeman gets bonk on head, wakes up in 1973 - it's AAA-mazing) and I've got hooked on the music. Early seventies rock music like Cream ,Thin Lizzy, classic Elton John and of course David Bowie. Is there a better song than Life on Mars?!

No more Saudi Arabia

The Bovees are officially cutting ties with the kingdom of sun and sand. After fours months trying to get a new work visa, Dad has finally given up on going back to Saudi Arabia to work and will be making a short visit in the a few weeks time to retrieve his things from his apartment and say a final goodbye.

Saudi Arabia is no paradise and I would never wish to live there again. I haven't set foot in the place for over 8 years, but nevertheless it's where I spent my childhood and there is a certain pang, an odd feeling that comes when I think of how I will never go back now. Not that I had plans to, but this makes it so final.

I had a happy childhood. There were the usual upsets and embarassments, big scary dogs and mean kids on the school bus, but I had loving parents, a comfortable and inviting home and it was a safe place where we could roam freely without fear of anything really. I didn't realise it at the time, but my childhood seems to others so exotic and exciting. It was exotic and now I'm grown up I appreciate it. I was introduced a few weeks ago to a young woman here in New York who also grew up in Saudi Arabia and we hit it off immediately. It was wonderful to be able to talk to another person who knew all about our strange home.

I'm starting to sound all nostaligic. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot I shalln't miss. The crazy driving in Saudi towns, sitting in segregated restaurants, 110% humidity, the sickly smell of the smokestake on sulfur days. Being stared at. The fact that sometimes there was a war going on. All dreadful things, although it's still rather fun thinking about them all.

I guess my point is Saudi Arabia is a pretty crappy place, but yet how wonderful to have been there.

Things I do miss: Roger and Amanda (and all the other geckos who lived behind our television), the piles of palm tree husks after they'd been stripped bare, taking the "shoppers bus", the thrill of driving at the dizzying speed of 60 kph on the hobby farm road, Ambrose running/galloping in the desert. SHWARMAS. Oh how I miss Rahima shwarmas, though not the tummy aches I'd have after eating 8 of them in one sitting. And last but not least, I will never forget that strange sound they used to play before announcements at the Dhahran airport... I loved the (departure side of the) Dhahran airport.

Seaman First Class

I tried to get grandfather Warren Bovee's service records from WWII, but all they sent me was a Notice of Separation from US Naval Service. Here's what I learned:

His address at the time he joined up: 601 Stunts Avenue, Ashland, Wisconsin
He enlisted voluntarily (they may be what enlisted means) on 5 February 1943.
He was paid $414.14 upon discharge.
His last employer ws the Interlaes Steampship Company of Cleveland, Ohio.
His civilian occupation was Able Bodied Seaman.
His job preference on leaving the service was Movie projection machine operator.
He completed 8 years of grammar school and 1 year of high school.
He served on the vessel USS Gilligan.
He received an Honorable discharge.
Remarks: Good conduct, American Area Ribbon, Asiatic Pacific Ribbon 1 star, Philippine Liberation Ribbon, Victory medal

Stephen, some of this will make more sense to you. Feel free to comment when you are reading this next August.

What this didn't include was any information about his supposed injury and being taken out of service only to have his gun post destroyed some days later by a kamikaze attack. Am I remembering that correctly, Dad?

Today I love my job

I spent the afternoon researching Finland, or rather Finnish companies, their labour market and whatever else looked interesting. Now that's a bit more like it. An honest days graft and a good time had as well. I read about tens of billions of Euros earned from flogging mobile phones and chunky orange handled scissors. And they make lots and lots and lots of paper. Now there's a surprise!

I also came across this You Know You Have Been In Finland Too Long, When... I don't pretend to know much about Finland, but I thought some of them were quite funny (17 and 33 in particular).

And this Immigrant families lining up for substitute grandparents I thought was a terrific idea. Goes along with all my preconceived notions about how clever and community-minded Scandinavians all are.

Just 10 minutes sitting up in bed with my laptop and my arse has gone completely numb. I have got to get a new mattress!

My first business trip

Next Thursday I'm going on my first official trip for work. I was supposed to go to South Africa and Botswana when I worked at the Foreign Office, but disaster struck, and I can't say any more it's making me upset thinking about it.

So next Thursday and Friday I will be at the Washington DC office, meeting with all the Workforce Sciences team members based down there. I want them to give me work, so it will be good to introduce myself, hopefully inspire some confidence, make friends and, you know, show them what a brainy bunny I am. They have a lot of External Labour Market analysis projects based out of their office (locating pools of talent, helping companies decided where to recruit/relocate) which could be fun. I spent some time my first couple weeks reviewing French, Swiss and Italian websites looking for the top technology schools in those countries. I want to do more of that.

They're putting me up in a hotel near the office Thursday night, and then I will stay on for the weekend with Kelly. Two trips for the price of one. I'm really excited!

I love shopping for books. I'll spend hours stalking the shelves of a bookshop. I'm not very good at making my mind up, and there so many to choose from. I so much prefer the old fashioned sort of bookshop, the musty smell, the new and secondhand books all jumbled up together, the basements and little rooms tucked away at the back. In London those shops are dying off one by one, and in New York they barely exist at all.

So my new bookshop is online. I decided yesterday to buy some new books. I just finished a book about Audrey Hepburn (a gift from my lovely auntie Paddy) and need something to read. I have unread books on my shelves at home... but I just couldn't help myself. I spent two wonderful hours (it could have been longer) browsing books and finally settled on three:

"The Lost: A Search for Six of Six Million" the story of an NY journalist who went in search of six relatives who were lost in the Holocaust, a sort of family history detective story of how he traced them and discovered who they were;
"Homemade Biography: How to Collect, Record and Tell the Life Story of Someone You Love" (yes Mum and Dad that's you!);
and "The Thirteenth Tale" about a woman who writes the biography of a mysterious author, part family history tale, part ghost story, it sounded intriguing.

I'm cheap so I went for the free shipping which takes forever. I think I'll read my Eric Clapton book in the meantime. Or The Master and Margherita. Or Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows again. Or...

A baby of my own

I've promised myself, if I move back to England I'm finally getting a car, and not just any car. I want an Audi TT. It's a quiet day at the office, so I had a look on the interweb, and I found my dream car. For a second-hand motor, this is just heaven. They're affordable at 10k. And just look at her:

This is a real car, for sale right now. What an exquisite colour. I'm in love. Seriously.

My little sister Lucy and her bun in the oven are coming to visit over 4th of July weekend!

It's the year of Bovees in NYC. Mum and J came in February, Lucy's coming in July and Dad and Stephen will be visiting sometime in the summer. It's like buses... you wait four years, and then they all come at once!

Three generations

I took a day trip to Boston on Saturday to search old newspapers for obituaries and announcements relating to my Massachusetts relatives. I had five hours in the Microtext room and managed to find a few articles. Apart from their intrinsic value, they also provided a few clues for me to follow up. After the library, I rejoined my traveling companion Dave Almond, who had spent the afternoon sightseeing, and we went to the North End for a delicious Italian dinner, spaghetti alla vongole.

Skimming through microfilm (especially of old newspapers with their tiny, headache inducing print) can be laborious, but it’s exhilarating when you spot a familiar name and hungrily scan the surrounding words for anything new and unknown.

My search turned up obituaries for three generations of the Paul-O’Brien family, gt-gt-gt-grandfather Frank Paul, his daughter Mary Ann Paul O’Brien and her daughter Hester O’Brien Smith.

Frank Paul is an intriguing character, and my most exotic forebearer. I am very proud of my Azorean/Portuguese roots. According to the article, Frank was a founding member of the Monte Pio Society of New Bedford. The society was founded in 1882 and is still listed in the phonebook. Surely they have a commemorative photograph of their founders.

Mary Ann’s obituary provides no new information other than the church where her funeral took place, however, this is a very moving tribute to what sounds like a lovely lady. Now, I did think that perhaps all these obits contain the same patter about loving wife, devoted mother, sure friend, blah, blah, blah. But it also occurred to me that if she’d in reality been a miserable so and so, they wouldn’t have gone to the trouble and expense of having such a long write up in the paper. So I’ve decided to take it pretty much at face value.
My first thoughts on reading this were of how much these words reminded me of my own mother.

Mary Ann’s youngest daughter Hester, Alfred O’Briens littlest sister, had proved somewhat illusive, but when I was preparing last week for this trip, I had a brain wave and managed to find Hester under her married name in the social security death index, which pointed me to the Hyannis, MA newspaper, the Cape Cod Times.

I mentioned how important it is to find photographs and the best source is of course other living relatives. Finding them has become my newest quest. It says Hester left two nieces (this could be my grandmother and her sister Mary) although it seems more likely the two nieces and three nephews all come from those sisters and brothers listed, along with the next youngest sister Grace O’Brien Hamlin who had died just two years before.

So I have two projects to concentrate on. Tracking down Monte Pio Society and their archives (which they better have!) and finding the families of Paul, Lucy, Grace and Hester O’Brien. Wish me luck.

No more S.A.D. Genevieve

Wow, I had no idea I was suffering from (mind you, pretty mild) Seasonal Affective Disorder until I walked out into the sunshine during lunch today. It's like I'm a different person.

This has been a rocky weekend. I would have gone spare had it not been conference weekend.

I loved President Monson's traditional summing up speech at the end of the last session. It had such a wonderful ring of President Hinckley about it, and yet it was all him as well. There was humour and authority, it was personal and prophetic. No doubt about it, he is the prophet. It was great to hear a little about his family background, his wife and parents. I also needed to hear his comments in the earlier session about turning to the Saviour for help.

It was also great to see so much of Elder Uchtdorf. My mate Dave and I agree, he's totally our hero!

Here showers the bride

I threw my first bridal shower on Saturday. It was a classy do at a nice restaurant in Lincroft, New Jersey. Joanne is our bride and here she is looking rather fetching, along with her gorgeous groom Drew, in his and hers Irish hiking scarves, one of my presents to the couple who will be honeymooning in chilly Ireland.
We had a tasty lunch followed by the opening of gifts which was accompanied by my version of bridal bingo. I'm a first timer at this fancy wedding lark and hence made the game a bit overcomplicated, but everyone played along sportingly and had a jolly good time.

Joanne was radiant as every bride should be. And my hats off to her... she had sold one and essentially bought another house just the day before. That's no small feat and yet she was so composed. If it were me, I'd have looked like I'd just done the tango with Tropical Storm Felix.

The highlight of the afternoon was getting to meet all Joanne's friends and family. I've heard so much about them over the last nearly four years. Now I've met nearly the whole gang!

Valhalla

It was a beautiful day for grave robbing...Actually someone had beaten us to it and had knicked great Auntie Margaret's copper marker. Honestly... some people!

Kelly was in town for a little bit of family history research and a lot of Aretha Franklin (trust me, I've seen the pictures). She whisked me to the verdant hillsides of Westchester in search of her forebearers, or what's left of them anyway. I am quite partial to a bit of cemetery hopping, although usually they're buried under a foot and a half of snow, the cemeteries that is. We also went to Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx and sat on the Beaudine bench in lovely sunshine.

That evening saw a trip to Brooklyn with Dave for Grimaldi's pizza (we had a Frankenstein pie - sausage, capers, extra mozzarella, basil and pepperoni) and an unusual wager. I sometimes forget just how competitive I am. It's frightening!

Another Great British invention

So I learned yesterday that the peace sign, that great symbol of the American anti-war movement and the sixties counterculture, was invented by the Brits! It debuted 50 years ago today - Good Friday 1958 - created by the good ole CND (that's the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament to those of you who aren't familiar with Vanessa Redgrave's career as a political campaigner). Protests supporting nuclear disarmament - it seems like a longer than just fifty years ago. Nowadays, a million people show up in Parliament Sq to say no way are we going to invade Iraq, and the government just does it anyway. I don't go on protests anymore. I stay at home in the warm and watch slickly produced shows about how the government breaks them up. Spooks, anyone?

Big window, little boy Big window, medium-sized boy
Il a grandi!

We all have tough days, sometimes tough weeks. And sometimes you start to wonder if you're loosing your grip, maybe just a bit. But it's reassuring to know that you can always look to our friend Mr Mugabe and be reassured of your sanity.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7271611.stm

Spending spree continues?

I woke up this morning and thought... I need to get a blackberry. I feel like I'm so behind on all my church/family history commitments and projects. I have some time at home in the evenings to work on things, but often by the time I get home I'm tired and just want to chat to my roommates or go to bed. With a blackberry, I can work on things on the go. Check my email. Keep a calendar that I have access to at all times. Have a full list of contacts with me. I checked it out online and it would be affordable to buy from my wireless network. I just need to make sure it wouldn't mean a shocking increase in my monthly subscription. If that's OK, then I think I might just get it!

By they way, I love the TV, the furniture and everything else I've acquired recently so no regrets.

J and Grannie in NYC

Jonathan and Grannie just had a New York City adventure! They arrived - sans Grandpa unfortunately - on Friday and jetted off to Salt Lake City this morning. The weekend went something like this:

Friday
J and Grannie fly from London to New York. They are met at JFK by the limo service and are whisked into Manhattan, arriving at the hotel just as Genevieve comes barrelling out of the subway. Grannie and J are introduced to all Genevieve's roommates. They make a great impression. J succombs to jetlag and falls asleep on the giant lovesac at 7pm.

Saturday
J wakes up at 2.30 am announcing that in England it's time to get up. Auntie Genevieve has been sleeping for three hours and has no intention of getting up. They get a drink of water, and Genevieve lies down on Jonathan's little camp bed on the floor, so he is forced to get into her far more comfortable bed. This does the trick, Jonathan falls asleep and Auntie Genevieve doesn't die. J wakes again at 6.45 and Genevieve accepts her fate. They play Top Trumps - Wonders of the World and watch Top Gear Italian Supercar Challenge.

J, Grannie and Jonathan go to brunch in Tribeca with Genevieve's roommates, Rich Call and Dr. Steve (the dishy doc from Peru). Genevieve is served a frightening mound of pancakes and Jonathan half-heartedly picks at his eggs Benedict. Only Grannie knows what became of her breakfast, as it disappeared in a flash!

On the way to breakfast, Jonathan takes his first ride on the subway, and after breakfast he makes his first trip in a NYC yellow taxi cab. They head to the World Trade Center to meet engineer and part time tour guide Jason Robertson for a tour of his offices in Tower 7.

Jonathan knows all about skyscrapers, so Jason shows him all the models and drawings and plans for the new towers. Then from the 10th floor vantage point, he points out the construction on the Freedom Tower, going on below.

After the tour, they meet up with Joanne and Drew who have popped over from Jersey to meet the folks. Downtown is woefully short of decent eateries, so the brief, but enjoyable visit involves eating deli sandwiches on laps in the living room. They did manage to squeeze in a quick trip to the roof. This is then followed by a trip up to Old Navy on 34th Street to get J some trousers for church in the morning. It's a fruitful trip. Suitable trousers are purchased and J gets a glimpse of the Empire State Building.

Sunday
The Bovees attend church. J and Grannie are introduced to dozens (perhaps even hundreds) of Genevieve's friends during the meetings and after church. How kind of them to conveniently schedule a linger longer to coincide with their visit. J eats several heart shaped cookies drowning in pink and red hundreds and thousands. In the afternoon, the roommates cook up taco salad for 12 and after dinner several more friends drop by to meet the folks, the Mulcocks, the Sparhawks (fresh from their honeymoon), Mindy Booth and many others.

Monday
It's Dead President's Day and Genevieve is off work. Jet lag, for the most part, has been overcome, and it's time to see the sights. They rush off early to catch the 9.30 ferry to Liberty Island.

J and Genevieve walk around the island and J poses with Lady Liberty.

Then it's on to Ellis Island, but not before J gets to help the ferryboatman with the ropes. J and Genevieve don't have any ancestors who came through EI, but it's a fun place to explore nonetheless. J enjoys all the exhibits on the ground floor with the giant 3-D graphs and computers. They all dine on tasty sandwiches and chicken tenders and then it's back on the ferry to the big island. Huge dark clouds are rolling in over Manhattan and they jump into a taxi just as the raindrops begin to fall.

It's on to the American Museum of Natural History - no.1 on J's must do list. He has been looking forward to this for weeks, "I want to go to the museum where they filmed Night at the Museum". They look at African and Asian mammals, the sea life exhibits and J takes dozens of pictures of dinosaur bones, including the T-Rex from the film. He's not in the entrance, but upstairs on the fourth floor. Either way, they're glad they won't be around after closing time when he comes to life and starts chasing the guards!

At home that night there is a birthday party for Genevieve's roommate Libby. J revels in all the excitement and attention, but by 9 o'clock, it's all been too much.

Tuesday
Genevieve is back at work, but she escapes at lunch time to meet J and Grannie for a trip up to the Top of the Rock.

It's a beautiful late Art Deco building and the views are far better than from the Empire State Building. If for no other reason, than you get a wonderful view of the Empire State Building!

J and Grannie spend the afternoon on the NYC tour bus, seeing all the downtown sights they've missed. After work, it's back home to Genevieve's house to eat dinner and watch what else but Top Gear.

There are lots more pictures to see.

I just spent a terrific weekend in Washington, D.C. with Kelly, my roommate who recently took a job down there. Kelly is one of my oldest friends from New York, and, having lived together for 3 years, probably knows me best. It's really nice to visit friends when you know each other so well. There's so much to talk about, nothing has to be explained, they just understand. It was good to see Kelly's new digs. She moved just over a month ago and seems to be settling in well.

We spent a lovely afternoon at Mount Vernon, George Washington's beautiful plantation home overlooking the Potomac River in Northern Virginia. The weather was chilly but clear and sunny and we toured the house and grounds and stopped to sit in the chairs on the veranda. We had fun in the shop. I bought my first Christmas presents for 2008 - I bet I even got a jump on Lucy! Then we went to Ikea so Kelly could look at beds. Although I was the one who walked out of there with a bag full of purchases, including two bedspreads and a bright red colander. And it was actually I who knew the way there, having been to the Ikea at Potomac Mills several years ago when I was at university. We topped off the day with dinner at a Mexican restaurant just steps away from Kelly's house (she is VERY happy about that) and the first two episodes of Spooks series 5. That really is the best show being made and Kelly and I love watching it together.

I haven't been back to Virginia/Washington since graduation so it was kind of exciting to be in the neighborhood again. It doesn't seem like all that long ago.

I was just talking to a friend at work and I realised, well, remembered, that my parents are two of the least selfish people alive. I'm so lucky to have them.

J - NYC

Jonathan rang me this afternoon to make plans for his visit to New York in two weeks. We were discussing the Statue of Liberty and he told me he had read about her in his "children's almaniac" (read that last word out loud, emphasis on the second 'a').

I imagine not everyone understands my obsession with family history and genealogy. It's more than just a hobby, it's almost become a way of life. I love the hunt, searching for clues and solving mysteries, but more than anything I love the personal and emotional side to it, the connection you feel to people and the joy of exploring the little details of peoples lives and of reuniting them with their families.

I read something in one of my English genealogy magazines yesterday that I really liked, and it sums it up beautifully. It's from an article about how genealogists in previous generations were only concerned with the "great and the good." But...

"Nowadays, we love the ordinary people, the everyday folk - and quite right too. Their lives and their experiences might have lacked the glitter and the glory, and they may have lived in humble dwellings rather than grand houses, but every human story has its interest and every life was important.

That great, great grandmother [the writer's family legend that she was an aristocrat had proved false] with the illegitimate twins worked in a cotton mill in Ancoats in Manchester and eventually took up with a man who knocked her about and ill-treated her sons. One of those sons, my great grandfather, slept on straw in a stable, started work at the age of eight, looked after his little half-sister, who eventually died of consumption, and earned enough money to buy himself a donkey and cart.

He carried and carted for the local community in the east end of Manchester, married a woman he loved devotedly and died, worn out, in his early 50s. That's a real human story, and one I am fascinated by. To the genealogists of the 1950s it would have seemed beneath notice - a sordid and sorry little tale with no dignity and no merit. To me, it is part of my genetic make-up and is to be treasured."

I just bought a giant telly!!


It's 37 inches of sheer beauty and it's coming to live in my house on Thursday!

Today was the first day I left the ofice and it was still light outside. That's one of my favourite days of the year.

And I bought a sofa today. I know own a table and chairs, and a sofa. Maybe one day I'll buy a proper bed!

2008 is here

My month of freedom is about to end. I'm off back to New York tomorrow morning and I shall miss being a lady of leisure. I've travelled on three continents, spent several weeks with my lovely family and watched countless hours of Top Gear. What a terrific time it's been!

My new job starts on Monday. I have my parents and Jonathan's visit to New York in February to look forward to. I shall be writing a short book this year and working on ideas and designs for a second. I shall be maid of honour at Joanne's splendid wedding in May. I shall be travelling at the end of May and any other time I can get away (Bermuda and Madrid remain on the shortlist). And on the whole just plan to have a bloody good time this year. How's that sound?!

My little brother's idea of a bit of Christmas Day fun

He thinks it's a huge laugh to scoop me up when I'm least expecting it. Sunday he picked me and flung me over his shoulder like a rag doll.

Marrakech

You can't really sum up an experience like Marrakech. So let's just look at pictures!

My first day I toured the Ben Youssef Medersa, the Marrakech Museum and the Almohavid Tombs.

In the afternoon I explored the souks and got completely lost. Your first trips through the souks can be rather stressful. One of the first things you notice is the smells (some delicious, some revolting). As a woman on my own, I was constantly pestered by shop owners and random men/teens offering their services as a guide. The noise and the chaos keep your head spinning. It's a battle to get through, but exciting at the same time.

The center of the city is the Jemaa Al Fna, an enormous square filled with food stalls and hawkers, along with fortune readers, henna women, snake charmers and Senegalese sufis playing gnouaa music.
Then at night it was turned into a giant outdoor eatery. The second night I dined on grilled aubergines and red peppers with chili sauce and poisson normal, fried fish to the rest of you. I posed for a picture with my chefs. The second morning I spent in the southern half of the medina, at the Bahia Palace of the Grand Vizier looking at beautiful painted ceilings

and tiled floors and at the ruined Badi Palace
I also visited the 17th century Saadian Tombs, for centuries lost from view behind a great mosque and only discovered during WWI by a low flying French pilot.

It's amazing how quiet these courtyards are, cut off from the frantic sounds of the streets and passages just steps away.

I also stopped in a small museum with artifacts from the trading routes between Marrakech and Timbouctou. I thought this item was something very Saharan like a water carrying bag, but then I noticed the label saying it was a 'Sac a affaires personnelles pour jeune mariee'. Essentially, a young ladies handbag!The rest of the day was spent shopping for Christmas presents in the souk, plates and tajines for Mum, hand made lantern for Dad, a djelaba cloak for Stephen and some Fasi bowls for Paddy. And I bought myself a a traditional cooking tajine. I look forward to cooking some Moroccon food when I get back to New York as the local food was too delicious for words. Even with my cooking abilities meager as they are I'll be able to create something wonderful.

The complete set of photographs are here. There are lots of pictures of tiles and patterns as one of the reasons I went to Morocco was to look at geometric patterns and designs in Arabian and Islamic decoration. I wasn't disappointed.

Roma

Lucy, Jonathan and I went to Rome for three days. I had planned a trip to Rome before Christmas, but travelling isn't half as fun without Jonathan and Lucy along. Thank goodness they were available as it was absolutely freezing and it would have been miserable without Lucy's company and Jonathan's comic relief.

Rome has a reputation for pick-pocketing and bag-snatching, so on arrival Lucy and I told Jonathan we needed him to be our bodyguard and keep a look out for anyone looking shifty or making a move on our belongings. We established a code word, "cheeseburger", for him to say when he spotted something out of the ordinary. We'd only got a hundred yards from the hotel when Jonathan whispers to me, "They all look like cheeseburgers!"

Our first outing was to the Vatican. We stopped on the way for our first scoop of gelato. It isn't the ideal treat on a day when the max temperature is four degrees celsius, but we were desperate to try it and it was delicious. I don't much care for the rock solid frozen ice cream we get at home. And the choice of flavours was so much better. I started with hazelnut and the next day had pistacchio flavour that was chock full of ground up pistacchio nuts and Noce Sorrento, walnut flavour. I'm nutty about gelato. (apologies for that) Jonathan was not so keen on eating ice cream on a cold winters day and became frantic every time we passed a gelateria. Of course we pointed every one out to him, so mature of us.

I was ever so excited as we approached St. Peter's. I told Jonathan that we were about to see one of the world's great treasures but he was thoroughly unimpressed, he was still trying to thaw out his tongue. We walked into the square, somewhat spoiled by a temporary performance area for Christmas concerts, a large ugly tree and a pile of miscellaneous junk. Yes, junk. Holy junk, presumably. We took some pictures:

Mother and child

and Auntie Genevieve squinting in the low-lying winter sun

We toured the inside of the Basilica, sent our Vatican City stamped postcards and saw the Spanish Steps lit up at night before dinner. In the morning, we made the much anticipated trip to the Colosseum. Jonathan had been talking for weeks about visiting the Colosseum, and he was not disappointed. He helped our Italian archeologist tourguide show us round. During the rest of the day, we walked through the Forum, up to the Pantheon and to the Fontana di Trevi. The weather was nearly at zero degrees, but Jonathan was terrific, never complaining even though his fingers were frozen together.

We enjoyed all of these sights, but the highlight of the trip was Jonathan's postcards. He chose his own postcards to send to Uncle Stephen and Grannie and Grandpa. I wrote one or two as well, but once I saw what Jonathan was writing we handed over all the postcard writing duties to Jonathan. They are little gems.

The rest of the pictures are here. We're thinking we might go back... sometime when sun is out and our gelato actually melts rather than cooling down when we take it outside the shop.

I covered 2 continents and 3 countries in less than 24 hours on Sunday/Monday. That's a first. And I'm still exhausted.

Gorgeous hair

My Michael-designed hair has been drawing complements ever since I touched down in the UK on Monday. Two particularly enthusiastic thumbs up from Jonathan and Eleanor (and I know Mike will appreciate the Eleanor seal of approval!) Views of this fantastic do are available below...do enjoy.

Christmas concert

I went to my nephew Jonathan's school Christmas concert yesterday (I hope to add a picture when I get access to Lucy's camera tomorrow). Despite much talk in recent years of banning references to religion at Christmas time here in the UK (including the banning of the word 'Christmas' itself), the concert included traditional Christmas carols like Silent Night and O Come All Ye Faithful. The focus of the programme was Christmas in countries around the world, and while much of the dialogue was centered on Father Christmas and gift giving traditions, there was also references to the Christ child and the three kings. It was quite refreshing to see they had not "cleaned up" the presentation and expunged the very center of Christmas. Take away Christ and all you're left with is overcooked turkey and credit card debt, and that's not a Christmas I want any part of. Jonathan had a couple lines in the Christmas in Mexico skit. It was a really good little programme, very enjoyable. Lucy and I sat in the first row of adults, and my little niece Eleanor sat on the floor in front with the other Infant School classes. She kept turning around and waving to us and smiling. Absolutely adorable.