I dreamt about my thumb. I dreamt the dressing was loose and I decided to take it off and underneath, the thumb was basically fine. I woke up feeling a bit cavalier, like everything was going my way. But outside my window, there was a mist hanging over the ocean and the walk along the shore that we had planned was immediately in jeopardy. I walked to the car to get my jacket. The rain was so fine that I hadn't realised it was there until I was soaked. So we abandoned our outdoor plans and went bowling, which seemed like a good American thing to do.
At 9 o'clock, the bowling alley was already full of old guys playing candle pin. It's exactly like bowling, but the pins are straight and lighter weight than skittles and the bowling balls are about a third of the size and you get three throws a time instead of two. We played it, thinking S would be better handling a ball like that, rather than a big bowling ball. As it happened, S got a strike. E also got a strike. I didn't get a strike. It's okay. I didn't want a strike.
After that, the rain still coming down, we went to Cape Cod mall. Big and quiet. S had a ride on a beautiful old carousel but despite our shopping ambitions while we're over here, we left with nothing. We made an emergency stop for lunch as S was about to nod off, swerving into a local fast food place that proudly specialised in roast beef. Cue the biggest sandwiches I have ever seen, followed by guilt and a hankering for fresh fruit and salad. While there, the news on the TV told us that New England is currently experiencing weather 15 degrees below the average for this time of year and there's a good few days of that left. Thanks a lot weather.
S's jet lag is getting better and getting her to take an afternoon nap might just switch her back to normality. So after lunch we drove, hoping the motion would send her to sleep. Within minutes, she was out for the count. So was E. I drove through the Cape, the mist snaking through every street in the beautiful little towns and around the houses and trees and salt marshes that lined the road between them. It was almost mysterious. At one point, the mist cleared. Seconds later, the sky darkened. A minute later, big rain. We found a play centre for S to run wild in when she woke up. It was a bit weird - she was the only kid there. But when she left, the owner plied her with little toys which was nice. She named them all, a whale called Huff, a sheep called Lamb, an ant called Guck and a ring which she also decided to name and, amazingly, called it Bum. I'm hoping that last one is just a symptom of a phase that will be over soon.
At the request of one dedicated reader (hi Jude), I'm going to talk about our car now. The Hog, as we call her, is a silver Honda Accent. She has only two pedals and the steering wheel is on the wrong side. She does 0 to 55 mph in about a minute and on the worse road surfaces, it gets so loud inside you can't even hear yourself thinking about how loud it is. But she's got us a long way with ease and comfort and it will be with a heavy heart that we say goodbye to her when we get to Boston tomorrow.
Today felt like a bit of a nothing day, a shame when you travel all that way and have your plans and the images in your mind scuppered by a spate of bad weather. The truth is that seaside resorts everywhere are a bit weird and a bit depressing when it's raining. And as beautiful as Cape Cod might be, it's no different.
This evening, the mist is still over the ocean. Somewhere out there, Moby Dick is probably still giving the seafaring a right headache. And out there there's a weather front that's hurting my head too. We spend the next few days in Boston and the forecast is rain, so we're making plans for things to do indoors. I will go to bed a little less gung ho than when I woke up. I won't be taking the dressing off my slowly healing thumb any time soon.
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