Love is in the air

Boston was, without doubt, the happiest part of my trip, and the reason for it.

My arrival was perfect timing for the bachelorette party at a Boston restaurant, Masa. It was salsa night. Not wanting to be a party-pooper, my two left feet and I joined in. There was a dance teacher leading the fun … I’m afraid my remedial salsa lesson didn’t improve matters much! Perhaps I could blame my poor performance on being full from the excellent meal I’d just eaten. No, I didn’t think so.

My plans for Friday got scaled back – I got as far as Concord (pronounced ‘conquered’ by the locals!), where I had lunch. A pretty little town with an excellent bookshop. To my great surprise, I was able to get a copy of “Skippy Dies”, one of the books lost on the dead Kindle. I also bought a cotton jacket and took a swag of money from the Bank of America. The tourist dollar was riding high!

Thankfully the groom had arranged a lift for me to the cocktail party in distant Newburyport. I went to his house to meet my chauffeur and help in whatever way I could while waiting. The help was in putting 1,000 white tulips into vases for the tables at the wedding reception. The team continued with that on the Saturday morning. It was pretty special that I made the bridesmaids’ bouquets. Well, that stretches it a little …. I tied the ribbons around the bunches of tulips which the bride’s attendants carried. Then it was scoot back to the BnB to dress before it was my turn to chauffeur – but only as far as Topsfield where the pretty little church was across the green from the beautiful old hall (‘hall’ is understating it!) where the reception was held. The bride looked stunning and radiated happiness. The groom scrubbed up well and looked suitably nervous … but needless to say, he pulled it off without fluffing his lines at all. Then it was “Party!!” until midnight. Everyone was tired but so happy at the end of the night.

But not so tired that the celebrations stopped. Sunday it was brunch that continued on until the barbie was fired up. I really did flop into bed on the Sunday night.

No more partying … until the Tuesday night. Bride and groom are one day apart in age and Tuesday was the party for that, though the international ranks of visitors had thinned a bit by then. The birthday cake was the wedding cake with (some!) candles on top. And so the partying came to an end, though not the happiness that all this celebrating generated.

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