Night of the Black Rose

Granny Kay is visiting at the moment.  It took me quite a while to track down some Pernod in advance of her stay, but I got there in the end.  Sadly, no Silk Cut to be had anywhere, not even for ready money. 

Yesterday Zoë took her Granny to the top of the Prudential Tower for some ear-popping views.  Then we went for lunch at Legal Sea Foods (Chablis & scallops, of course).  In the evening, whilst Zoë was running Bridget ragged in the flat, we went to Stephanies on Newbury for dinner. 

The last time we went to Stephanies we had a lovely time - it's a very busy place but the food is excellent.  However, that extreme business meant that, this time round and despite a reservation, we had to wait half an hour for our table.  To add insult to injury we were asked for ID before they would serve us any alcohol and, as a meal without Chablis would be unthinkable, Eamon had to go home to get our passports.  And after all that, our waiter never asked for them!  

The ID requirement is a recent and bizarre aspect of Boston life.  Apparently, anyone that appears to be under the age of 40 is required to show specific photo ID before they can be served alcohol.  Interestingly (worryingly?) I have only been asked asked for ID twice*, but suddenly ID checking seems all the rage.  In fact, you can't even get into a pub in the evening these days without your passport.  Lucky then that Eamon had gone to get them, as after Stephanies we headed to the Black Rose Irish pub downtown, for some Guinness and Irish fiddle music. 

I am sure Kay could have gone on all night (everyone was up & dancing when we left), but Eamon & I were exhausted (due in no small part to our regular 5.30 am alarm call, which unfortunately has no "snooze" button).  So, it was time to head home for a nightcap of camomile tea (me) and Pernod (Kay), which at the 4 am pre-alarm call turned out to be a very wise decision on my part!

* At the time I was immensely flattered, but the novelty has kind of worn off now.