There were eighteen long hours between my alarm clock going off in St Albans and my arrival at my hotel in Boston, last night. When I did reach the hotel, I felt tired and somewhat old. Still, my hotel room was large, with a King size bed, and it was nice to be back in Boston. I quickly unpacked and then sauntered over, in the thickly humid evening, to Marcello's, on Newbury Street, thus picking up again a habit I'd adopted on my previous visit here three years ago.

The first thing I noticed about Boston in comparison with New York and London is how young and ... well ... caucasian everybody is, and how conservatively dressed. It's very definitely a college town - Banana Republic and J Crew rule.

This morning, after a poor night's sleep, I struggled to find a good mood. I was feeling a touch of depression, something that isn't uncommon on my trips, but that I've been mostly spared during this one. It was only after copious coffee at Starbucks, and a long perusal of the New York Times that my spirits started to lift, as I realized that, hey, I'm here in Boston with absolutely no responsibilities for a week.

I ambled up Newbury Street, people watching and looking into the odd gallery here and there. My favorite was "New Art on Newbury", an unusual gallery which shows low-cost original works by up-and-coming artists whose work might otherwise not find a gallery. There I met the owner, Tom McCarthy, and I told him I'd give him a plug. In the Copley Society of Boston, I liked some cute little bird paintings and chose one that I think I'm going to buy for my Dad, who's a keen ornithologist.

It was a beautiful day, but, by lunchtime, I decided it was way too hot to continue exploring the city on foot, so after lunch in one of the many restaurants on Newbury Street (all of which are full with "ladies who lunch" talking stocks and bonds) and a haircut, I settled into the real purpose of my stay in Boston; to get some writing done. I haven't worked on my screenplay since the first few days in England, and I want to get at least the first draft done before I get home. So I spent the afternoon writing either in Starbucks or sitting in a chair in the park that runs down the middle of Commonwealth Avenue.

Writing, in Commonwealth Avenue

As the sun set, I went for one of my favorite runs, South along the Charles River Esplanade, and back. It was a beautiful sunset; great impressionistic swathes of red cloud circling up from a grey haze - very like a Turner painting. And the Esplanade was full with joggers, strollers and roller-bladers. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera with me.

And that's that! I'm afraid it's going to be a boring few days in this journal, since I'm hoping to have more days like today. If I skip a day of journalizing here or there, you'll know it was because nothing happened!