Boston You're My Home

I work in Downtown Boston.

 Boston is a strange city in a number of ways. Because it isn't a grid city there are few discernable 'blocks', roads and walkways ramble and twist themselves around with no thought to the sanity of the lost and the confused. New York has its 42^nd, 43^rd etc etc streets, Boston has School Street (upon which there is no school), Water Street (without water of any kind), Court Street (reliably, sans Court) and Milk Street. I haven't been to Milk Street in a while, so can't comment on the lack or presence of milk.  

 I work on Summer Street, which you can get to by walking straight down Winter. Winter turns into Summer. It's so cute.

 This morning I got off the train at Park Street, which sits at the top of Winter Street. For the last few days Boston hasn't been exactly a delight to walk in, it's very humid and hot right now and the city smells like the laundry basket of a fat drunk. The heat can be oppressive at times, and my pale skin doesn't appreciate it.

 I walked down Winter Street, soon crossing the border with Summer Street. Just a couple of minutes until I get to work. I noticed a man walking towards me who was clearly suffering in the heat, his situation probably not helped by the fact that he was wearing boots, thick trousers, a woolen sweater and a generously plump overcoat.

'Excuse me!' he said walking towards me.

'Oh god', I whispered to myself.

'Do you know where Winter is?' he asked.

'Right there', I told him pointing behind me.

'Thank the Lord!' he exalted. 'Summer is too hot for me!'.

 Classic. He walked away chuckling, I did the same.

 Alise and I have often talked about possibly moving to the UK some day, my family is all there and we both like the place. If we do go though, one thing I am sure of is that I'll miss Boston and its inhabitants terribly.