Bilaeva

I got an email to say my hotel reservation in Venice has been switched to their sister hotel in Santa Croce because my hotel will be "under rennovation" while we're there. Did this one catch fire as well ??

i LUVVVVVVV my iPhone

Friday
1. Even though I had a tense, tiring week at work, somehow I was in tip top shape when I arrived at the temple and wasn't tired at all. It was the best shift I've had in months.

Saturday
2. I found a cool clothing store in the East Village where I can buy a vintage dress for my posh Christmas party and because I'm skinny I fit into anything I want.

3. I got to see the work Joanne and Drew have done on their lovely little house in Keyport. And I got to snuggle and play with the doggies. Auntie Genevieve has missed them.

4. I had the most delicious dinner I've eaten since moving to New York. Blackened 12 ounce pork chop, french onion bread pudding and porcini mushroom cream sauce. Everything cooked to perfection. I can still taste it. Drew's Bayshore Bistro in Keyport, NJ, try it for yourself.

5. Watched Bond speed through the Tuscan hills in the new Aston Martin. I have such a crush, and not on that Daniel Craig, though he's pretty gorgeous as well.

6. Jason and I played with our iPhones together til the wee small hours.

Sunday
7. We played with our iPhones some more, but not during the important bits of church. I promise! And he downloaded the scriptures for me so I can read on the subway.

8. Watched episode 3 of Venice - courtesans, the Grand Tour, Santa Maria de la Salute and Napoleonic invasion. I'm getting so excited to go.

9. We all scarfed luau Hawaiian food leftovers - salted pulled pork, roast chicken, pineapple and pina colada cake - until our tummies hurt so much we wanted to die. And then we all had some more.

10. Jeff Butler and I talked up a Scando-lovin' storm at the Mug and Mingle pre-Christmas shindig. Gave him the best relationship advice/pep talk of his life. He's gonna owe it all to me!

10 days - I meet baby Andrew
11 days - I'm in Venice

I'm working on setting up a gizmo on my iPhone that will allow me to post photos taken on beautiful brand new iPhone immediately to the blog, giving you all an almost real time travelogue. That's instant London, babies, Venezia, mamma mia!

Seriously... http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2008/oct/25/fivebest-cemetery-tours

I was supposed to be spending today clawing my way up the side of a pyramid. But the gods and the elements had other ideas, and our hotel in Mexico City had a fire at the beginning of the week. No hotel ... no holiday. Everything was cancelled and here I sit, still in New York City, still haven't had a holiday yet this year.

Dad says we'll go to Oaxaca next year instead, so I still get a trip to Mexico and we don't have to dodge muggers, kidnappers and assasins. Ok, fair enough.

I still need a holiday though!

NEVER eat cookies for breakfast!

My roommate Libby called out to everyone in the apartment yesterday asking for some Bandaids for a cut finger. I rushed to her aid, reminding her that I always have a huge stash of Bandaids.

"It's one of the top three (not quite sure why I said that) things I always have!"

"What are the other two?" she asked. "Attitude and travel plans?!"

And she's right.

I would love to take Jonathan on a little trip next February, just the two of us. And I would like to do some family history research in Ireland. Jonathan has shown a lot of interest in family history (don't tell him yet, but I'm grooming him to be the next Bovee genealogist) so I thought a trip to Ireland might be the perfect thing. I had County Mayo in mind, but thought I should probably do a bit of research ahead of time to make sure we had a good enough reason to go!

My great-great grandmother Ellen Mulherin, later Ellen Ducie, (the lady on the right with the rather interesting hairdo)

came from Mayo and thanks to some records newly made available online, I was able to find her exact date (5 April 1867) and place (Coolcronan, North Mayo) of birth. I knew from her obituary that Ellen had a least one brother, and with a little further digging I discovered that in fact she had two brothers, Thomas and James, and three sisters, Anne, Elizabeth and Bridget (there's always a Bridget!).

We already knew the names of Ellen's parents, Ellen McDonnell and Patrick Mulherin. I found a record of their marriage, also in Coolcronan, which supplied me with the names of both Ellen's grandfathers, Martin McDonnell and Thady (short for something?) Mulherin, my fourth great grandfathers and Jonathan and Andrew's (can I just tell you how exciting it is to write Jonathan and Andrew) fifth great grandfathers. Most of my research now involves extended families, so it's quite a special moment when I discover the name of a direct ancestor.

So now Jonathan and I have somewhere to go. We don't come from wealthy families, so there's no ancestral pile to visit. There's probably no physical legacy of these chaps, but, as with my dead of winter expedition to Wisconsin last December, it's just nice to be somewhere where our family was. And of course we'll cruise around a bit and do some serious 9-year-old stuff as well. Does anyone know what 9-year-olds like to do? Auntie's a bit out of the loop I'm afraid.

Everyone, this is Andrew.

Andrew Anthony King was born around 2pm England time. I don't yet have his weight, but I hear he is long-legged and destined to sprout spectacularly.

My little sister is now the mother of three sons!

I just bought my fourth international plane ticket in 10 days!

We moved apartments last night/today. We had seventeen hours to do it: midnight to 5pm today. Got everything done, but that means I've been awake since 8am yesterday. The others had a nap around 6 am but I kept schlepping and painting.

That means I've been awake for almost 33 hours. Never studied all night at university. Never worked a night shift. So I'm going for a record. Wait a minute, I've set the record, ages ago. I'm just breaking my own record.

I heard once from Ronnie Wood that he and Keith Richards did six straight days once. I'm not going to break their record.

He said third Indiana Jones film was released in 1990. I said no, 1987, maybe 1989. He was adamant and wanted to make a bet with me. I'm careful with my money, but mighty competitive, so I said, "Alright, I'll bet you a LARGE cheese sandwich." He said, "You're on".

And I was right. 24 May 1989. I just won a cheese sandwich! I don't care if I even get it. I just love that I won the bet.

That's two in a row.

Today was the first day I left the office and it was still light outside. That's usually something I announce in the springtime when the days are getting longer, but it's autumn. So what does this mean? It means I've been working late every night for the past two weeks. So what it really means is my life is a bit crap right now.

Still, I always take some comfort in knowing it could be much worse. Like for this chap I heard about in a BBC new story who got himself arrested for having 86 wives. The Shariah court is all up in arms because under Islamic law he's allowed only four. But he doesn't believe Allah is unhappy with him. What evidence does he offer for this? He says, "Any man that did not have help from Allah in keeping 86 wives would surely drop dead!" I'm inclined to agree with him.

And I really like his hat.

I've been working on a project that involved transcribing what felt like about a million addresses of mine workers in northeast Kentucky. Tedious job, but the street names were kinda fun:

Silk Stocking Road
Middle Greasy Creek
Big Ugly Road
Burning Tree Lane
Pigeon Roost Road
Fox Hunters Ridge
Bob & Joann Lane
Stumbo Hollow
Triple S Road
Raccoon Road
Little Lick Fork
Upper Blackberry
Pansy Lane
Sulfur Springs Road
Left Jockey Hollow

and my favourite...
Fex Creek

I know it's puerile but that one makes me laugh out loud every time.

I think Dad has a list of towns in Texas with silly names. If anyone can think of other such lists, let me know, we Bovees love this kind of thing.

So our physicist friends in Switzerland are pretty confident there won't be some kind of planet terminating event over there tomorrow when they switch on their giant bicycle pump. Still, I'm going out for a really good dinner tonight and enjoying a bit of my favourite telly. I don't want to have spent my last evening in this dimension eating cold pot noodle and doing the wash!

The ink on our new lease is dry and the ordeal is finally over. We have a place to live (for another year at least) and we don't have to worry about moving as it's just downstairs in our current building. My new address will be 45 Wall St #301.

It's a gorgeous little apartment with two large bedrooms, a living room nearly as big as the one we have now, and a large alcove where we can keep our sewing stuff and work on other projects. We have high ceilings - 11 ft - so an illusion of even more space. There will just be the four of us, so not quite as hectic as the last two years.

I can't tell you how relieved we all are! Things have worked out well.

I discovered that the British Film Institute, which has the largest film archive in the world, has a youtube channel. I couldn't sleep this morning so I've been watching clips from their collections.
There are wonderful historical films of Edwardian Britain, clips from a filmed tour of Britain in 1924, and several films of old London. They have "educational" films from the forties and fifties, including one called "Growing Girls" that's not for the faint-hearted. I loved the old football matches, the men in their suits, steam trains and omnibuses, and suffragettes on the march. Here's one that Mum will love Holidaying in 1957. There's the Mystery of Marriage and courtship explained. How to make the perfect Valentine. Hints on how young ladies can fight off thieves. And Rush hour in 1896 (a little quieter on the bridge than when I used to cross it).

One evening when Dad was visiting New York, we dined out in style at a Greek restaurant, Molyvos, and between courses I quizzed him about his family. We talked about his father's many brothers and sisters, most of them Dad never met, and I realised that though we assumed all had long since passed away, his youngest sister Janice, born in 1926, may still be living. I decided to make it my mission to find her for him and get us together if possible.

Well thanks to my friend Charles who is a professional genealogist, we located her this week. Charles found an obituary in a Wisconsin newspaper and I nearly fell off my chair when I noted the date. She died just six weeks ago on July 29th... the day we had dined at Molyvos.

She was the last of her generation on both sides of Dad's family and it's ever so disappointing to think if we'd looked just a few months ago we might have been able to meet her. Though sadly the irony is without her obituary we probably wouldn't have found her. However, all is not lost. As you will read below, she had eight children (eight cousins for my Dad!), grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and I shall track them down and make friends with them.


Janice Lurine Lawton, Orfordville (1926 - 2008)
February 15, 1926 - July 29, 2008Janice Lurine Lawton, 82, passed away Tuesday, July 29, 2008, in Collinwood Elder Care, Orfordville. She was born on Feb. 15, 1926, in Medford, WI, daughter of George and Lillian (Brown) Bovee. She married Leonard Revels on June 20, 1944. Leonard was the father of her children. She married Floyd Johnson in 1957; he passed away on July 20, 1980. She married Bernard Lawton on Feb. 9, 1985; he passed away on July 21, 2000. Janice was a nurse and caregiver. As a resident at the Garden Court Apartments, she was very active setting up activities and music for all residents. She enjoyed crocheting, reading, talking on the phone, playing cards and other games, and spending time with her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.She is survived by her sons: Paul "Bud" (Caroline) Revels of Footville, Ronald (Christine) Revels of Twin Falls, ID, Larry (Darlene) Revels of Mauston, and Jim (Penny) Nielsen of Sioux City, SD; daughters: Roberta (Mike) Kemper of Beaverton, OR, Cynthia (Roger) Williams of Byram, MS, Barb Augustin of La Place, LA, and Sandy (Fred) McKillips of lola, WI; grandchildren; great-grandchildren; and great-great-grandchildren.She was preceded in death by her parents; husbands; and a grandson, Ryan McKillips.

Anyone ever heard or heard of Silbo Gomero, the whistling language of the Canary Islands? I thought I knew a thing or two about obscure languages but was fascinated to discover this on a BBC radio programme. Apparently a shouting voice doesn't carry across the valleys of the volcanic island of La Gomera, but whistling travels over 2 miles. So to avoid schlepping up and down the mountains to get a message to their neighbours, the Gomeros just whistled. Have a listen.

Lucy was telling me yesterday about how Jonathan has been glued to the Olympics coverage non-stop since the games began last Saturday. And she says, "You know Great Britain is no.3 in the medals table" and I quite simply didn't believe her. I insisted that was nonsense until I checked BBC news online and we were indeed number 3 with totally unprecendented haul of 13 gold medals. I was delighted (everyone in the office was informed) but I figured it couldn't last, not now that the athletics competitions have begun.

So imagine my surprise when I checked this morning to see how far we'd slipped, only to discover we'd won TWO MORE !

Look at that. We're only 10 behind the USA. If it won't for that Phelps kid, we'd almost be tied!

My great grandmother Moina Ducie O'Brien was an heiress. She was the genuine article, wealthy, cultured, genteel, and, as grandma Rosalba put it, "had expensive tastes". Following a decline in fortunes, Moina and husband Alfred moved with their three daughters from Montana - where the family fortune in copper had been made - to Connecticut in the mid-1920's. In searching for a new home, Moina found a beautiful and historic 18th century house that she wanted "in the worst way". Unfortunately because of its age, the doorways were only 5'8". Grandpa Al, who Dad and Stephen have to thank for being tall, put his put his foot down declaring "I'm not living in that house". So Moina had to settle for something a little more modern in the town of Ansonia, CT until they moved to the leafy Queens suburb of Jackson Heights in 1932.

Great uncle Elmer Pehrson and Aunt Evelyn Ducie Pehrson lived briefly in Manhattan in the 1950's. Elmer, an expert in mining economics (google him and find some really interesting publications), after years of traveling the world for the US government assessing mineral deposits, had taken a teaching position at Columbia University. The politics of academia soon drove him away, but for two years they lived at the rather ritzy address of Sixth Avenue and 57th St, in the same building as none other than Louis Armstrong. Grandma and Aunt Debbie came to visit one year and met Mr Armstrong in the elevator, where he presented Debbie with a Hershey bar.

Dad says that years later when our family visited them in their last home in Washington DC, Evelyn produced a collection of exotic hats and trimmings from an old Afghani trunk and danced around the room in them. He says that even then, after sixty years of marriage, Elmer was clearly still besotted with his spirited and Bohemian bride.

Even though Michael and I aren't hitched, his brothers Jeff and Stephen, as well as being two of my oldest friends in New York, the last two years have felt like brothers-in-law to me. So it was a right old bummer to have to say cheerio to Jeff and Caitlin yesterday as they packed up and departed for Chicago.
And we managed to cheer Michael up a bit.

I've been in New York for nearly five years now and I've made some splendid friends in that time. I've watched some of them get married like Liesel and Adam, some like Kelly have moved on to new places, and Jeff and Caitlin have done both.

Some days I feel a bit like the Scarecrow, stood fixed at the crossroads watching everyone else come and go. Although I'm not quite ready to hop off my post and march to the Emerald City because the more I think about leaving New York, the more I want to stay. It's really weird. Perhaps I should try that reversable psychology thing. Or perhaps I should stop worrying about it. How about I leg it to Ireland. Emerald Isle/Emerald City, it's close enough. And I quite fancy Barcelona. And Rio. And Sardinia.

You probably know or remember the famous and historical Trinity Church, at the top of Wall St. I see, if not pass, it every day. Aunt Mary (my grandma's younger sister) was an active member of their congregation, attending church there and participating in many of their community programmes.

I've only been inside on Halloween an old silent film of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, with an old style accompaniment on the church organ. I wonder if we sat in the same pew.

If you've read the post below (Stephen?!), you'll know I got a chance to wring some information out of Dad while he was visiting last week. In an effort to educate my siblings about their forefathers, I shall be posting one tidbit a day.

Grandpa Warren Bovee loved basketball. He liked to play the game and watch it on television. He joined the Church along with Dad and Grandma in 1957 and I had always thought that they hadn't been very active (he wasn't endowed before he died). However, it turns out that his passion for basketball was put to good use and he served as the Stake Athletic Director for several years.

Dad has been in town with me for the last seven days. He was really excited to come. Dad used to spend his summers here as a student in the sixties, so he wanted to explore his old neighbourhoods and retrace old paths, do a little shopping and just wander among the new and grand buildings that have sprung up since he was here. I wanted him to meet all my friends and to question him about his family who lived in New York, his mother and aunts and grandparents - I'm the fourth generation of Bovee/O'Briens to live in NYC!

Dad spent Friday in the Village, with a visit to his old apartment building at 1 Bank Street. In the evening we went to our West Side taco place on Amsterdam/108th with Jeff and Caitlin Mulcock, Jeff Butler, Colin and Jared. Most of the Mulcocks/McPhees have met most of the Bovee/Kings and we're all like extended family now. Well, I like to think so.


Saturday we met Dave Almond and his sister Elise and walked over the Brooklyn Bridge to Brooklyn Heights where we had ice cream on the waterfront, and then went up to Montague Street to see the street where Dad and Aunt Mary used to live. He says the shops have changed but otherwise it looks pretty much the same.

Most evenings we ended up at the seaport, having a look in the shops and sitting at the end of the pier, watching the boats. And then back home, where Dad had easily befriended all my roommates.

I was so sorry to say goodbye to Dad yesterday. I stood looking out my office window in the afternoon, wishing he was down there somewhere. But I'm sure he'll be back to visit again soon. New York is too much of a draw. And I think he rather likes my company as well!

The most exhilarating part of the trip was driving over several tall bridges. The views are spectacular, and it was so tempting to keep taking my eyes off the road. The winds would have easily blown my car into the next lane or, it seemed, over the side of the bridge had I not be ever so careful. The longest and tallest of these bridges was the Pell Bridge connecting Newport to the mainland. I managed to take this picture during the long 200-foot ascent.

As I arrived home Sunday night, tired but refreshed, I realised I'd put my feet down in four different states that day.

The rest of the pictures from the trip are on Flickr.

Dave Almond and I are doing a joint, or rather simultaneous, post on what he calls the Mr. Darcy list. These are things that we feel are alright, but other people go crazy for, and we don't understand quite what all the fuss is about. For example:


Dave says he appreciates the fine storytelling of Austen's Pride & Prejudice but has never understood the obsessive adoration for the character of Mr. Darcy and various portrayals of him that so many people seem to have. Hence the title of the list. By the way, I don't really understand the allure of him either. Men who are withdrawn and surly are not mysterious and intriguing to me, I see them as grumpy, self-involved and frankly no fun at all. I prefer nice chaps, with smiles and self-esteem.

So anyway, here's my Mr. Darcy list:
Fancy NY restaurants - sometimes delicious, sometimes not, you can't believe the hype, cheap felafel sandwiches are often far more satisfying
The Alchemist - it was a decent read but it didn't change my life
Mountains - i enjoy going up mountains once in a while, especially if they're in the Alps, but at boarding school in Colorado people practically worshipped them (what I do like is tunnels through mountains, I LOVE tunnels)
Mitt Romney - it was kinda fun watching an LDS candidate for president do well, but I couldn't ever really support a Republican and I was recently shocked to discover one of my friends - heretofore a commited Democrat - had served as one of his campaign staff
Traversing the Brooklyn Bridge - she's a beauty, but I could go a good long time without walking across it again

Feel free to chip in with your own Mr. Darcy list contenders (Dad, that means add new ones... we already know you think Mitt is Satan) Or contest any of the above. I may be opinionated, but I'm also English, which means I never miss a chance to apologise for it!

I'm a proper New Yorker now... I just got invited to the Hamptons! That would make two weekends out of the city in a row. I am so anxious to escape, even if it's just for a couple days.

Kelly was in New York this weekend so on Saturday Libby, Kelly, Eleece and I went on a little adventure out of the city to Sleepy Hollow, home of headless horsemen. We spent most of the time at the Old Dutch Burying Ground.

Now this looks like quite the delightful fellow, historian, lawyer and genealogist. I think we would have been friends. And of course he's a member of the legendary Van Tassel clan.

This is quite the most wonderful toadstool I've ever seen.

I just got to feel Lucy's baby move again. Last time it was a tiny elbow making room for itself. Today it was a proper kick!

So we didn't get to New Bedford this weekend. I wanted to get Lucy out of the city because I knew it would be hot and humid and tiring for her, and I wasn't wrong. We managed one more day in the city yesterday (with trips to Ihop in Brooklyn, the Target in the sky, two games of Ticket to Ride Europe on my roof terrace, and a trip to wholefoods to buy our picnic lunch for Sunday) but today we needed to escape. We needed dry and cool, so we headed north, away from the city and away from the coast.


And where is there to go up north? Well, we didn't rightly know, so we decided to go to Grand Central and get on the first train leaving the station. And that would be the 10.50 express service to Poughkeepsie. It's on the Hudson River line, so we figured green and leafy, perhaps a bit historic. And Lucy knew the kids would love it that she went somewhere with Poo in the name. So what's in Poo-keepsie? A train station, a freeway, a concrete whale, a small park along the river, and, oh well hang on this is quite exciting... the Mid-Hudson Bridge. And here's a picture:
That's me looking so much like Mum. She's cute, isn't she! Oh and we did make a friend.
His name is John. He lives on a boat (moored just off to the right) and is writing a book about daredevils.

So it turns out America isn't like Europe. You can't just jump on a random train and find yourself somewhere interesting. I now know you either stick to the city, or you get on a plane. To somewhere really exciting. Like Cleveland or Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Still, it's fun just to say we did it. It reminded us both of the phone calls we used to get from Stephen when he was in London for the summer, when he'd announce he was in such uninspiring locales as Lewisham or Harrow-on-the-Hill. What are you doing there, we'd ask. "Well, I thought I'd stay on the bus to the end of the line, just to see what was there."

Anyway, we were back in the city by dinner time and ate at a restaurant in Battery Park City, with a view of the Liberty and Ellis Islands.
We also went on another train ride this weekend, to Newark Airport. The least said about that, the better, but we did take a nice picture on the way.Note the smiles. This was the outbound journey! I shall simply have to go to New Bedford another weekend. I think I'll make a day trip of it one weekend this month, although it shalln't be a fraction as fun as going with my little sister.

Our New Bedford trip is off. Stupid nonsense with driving licenses and credit cards, and I don't know what. A wasted trip out to Newark Airport and my eyes are soooo tired now. We tried an alternative route picking up a car in Connecticut, but no good. So we're stuck in the city. Crap.

But.... on a much happier note....while we were waiting for the PATH train back to Manhattan, and my spirits were at a pretty low ebb and just in time to cheer me up, I finally got to feel Lucy's baby move. No big kicks, just a tiny elbow. I felt a few little nudges, and then he stuck it out and held it there, pressing gently against my hand.

It has been a bumper week for genealogy. After having been on hiatus for a while with no new lines of inquiry or interesting discoveries, I have had a simply amazing week.

It started last Saturday with the discovery of the Wisconsin newspaper articles, and continued on Sunday with collecting nearly a hundred Montana newspaper clippings on the Ducies and related families.

On Tuesday I telephoned Lehigh University in Pennsylvania to inquire about access to student records for my great grandfather who studied for an engineering degree there in the teens. Just two days later I received copies in the post from his senior yearbook, including this picture:


We have one baby picture and pictures of Alfred in his later years but nothing from his youth. I was immediately struck by the mouth and chin and then the eyes, which I knew I'd seen before. I was in fits of joy, laughing and dancing round the apartment as I read the following description of Alfred from his yearbook:

"Al has been known throughout these four years as the other half of that immortal combination known as "the Wish Twins". He also comes from Boston. Coming from the classic shades of old Harvard, he still retains enough of his early training to pronounce 'idea' with a heavy 'r'. He came back last fall from a summer's 'practice' in Canada with wondrous tales of his travels. They sounded like a new edition of 'The Arabian Nights' with himself in the role of Inbad the Sailor.

Alfred is a graphic and lengthy desciber: to get a description of a game of bowling from him one endangers the chairs and other furniture in his immediate vicinity and puts the safety of the auditors in jeopardy as well. Al will probably be a success as a salesman of mining stock for the reason that he never allows an opinion to exist which varies one iota from his own."

Opinionated, with the gift of the gab. Remind you of any one?!

I also learned that Alfred was the Lehigh Class of 1913 Treasurer, he was 5'11.5", 162 lbs, his politics were "Bull Moose" and his nickname was "Pat". He was an active member of the Mining & Geological Society and graduated with a Masters in Engineering. So sorry Dad, you weren't the first O'Brien/Bovee to achieve a graduate degree.


But that's not all! I have further tales of graduations, but this time of Alfred's future bride, Miss Moina Ducie of Anaconda, MT and my great grand-mother. On 1 June 1913 The Anaconda Standard reported:

"Mrs. John Ducie will leave for Spokane Wednesday, accompanied by her daugher Miss Evelyn, to attend the commencement week exercises at the Holy Name academy. Miss Moina Ducie, one of Anaconda's most popular girls, is a member of the graduationg class, and it will be a gala week for the Montana representatives at the festivities."

The article was accompanied by a picture of 18 year-old Moina:

Moina also studied at St Vincent's Academy in Salt Lake City and Gonzaga College. She was quite the society young lady, appearing at all the best parties and gatherings in Anaconda and Butte, as befit her status as daughter of John Ducie, one of the most prominent citizens of southwestern Montana. There were several articles about his various mining and real estate interests, from which I can only conclude - as we've always suspected - that he was probably filthy rich.

How the celebrated Miss Ducie ended up the wife of humble mining engineer Alfred O'Brien remains a small mystery. Oh and what happened to all the money. That too. And the collection of dinosaur fossils. And the gem stone collection. And yes, the largest sapphire in the world. I just need to get my hands on the 1916-1926 issues of The Anaconda Standard.

This is my great-grandfather’s youngest brother, Truman, aged about 1o. Despite the dour expression typical of old photographs (they had to pose for up to 10 minutes while the plate developed), I think he’s quite a sweet looking little fellow. I know from his death certificate that he drowned at the age of just 20, but no further explanation was given and I had been thinking only the other week that I would never know if it was drunkenness or tomfoolery on his part, or just a tragic accident. But Ancestry.com have recently expanded they’re collection of digitised Wisconsin newspapers, and quite by chance I came across this:
As I read this on my computer screen, I was gripped not only by the drama and tragedy of the unfolding tale, but also by the thrill and delight of discovering something I had longed to know. It was a strange mix of emotions.

I bought the new Coldplay record. No surprise my favourite track is called Cemeteries of London.

I just heard the most ridiculous news story on BBC World Service. The Saudi "moral police" - we knew them as mutawahs - want regular police protection and danger pay because of a backlash against them from ordinary Saudis. They claim their work has become difficult and dangerous and they want that to be recognised. Bloody cheek!

Essentially, these guys hassle people for a living. They're mostly just a nuisance - I was stopped a couple times in the Saudi city of Khobar where we used to shop occasionally and told my dress was unacceptable and a sign of my deep moral degredation which I had apparently managed to achieve at the tender age of just 12 - but according to the news report last year several mutawahs stopped girls escaping from a burning school because they were not wearing their head scarves and fifteen girls died in the fire. The majority of these moral police, according to the report, are university graduates, which surely proves that education does not make you intelligent.

The irony is, this comes some fifteen years too late. I remember Mum saying that any mutawah that threatened her would certainly need to be ready to defend himself. And our mild-mannered friend Virginia Stewart did actually push and shove one and knocked him off his feet one night as she got on the Khobar shopping bus. She was lauded with a round of applause if I remember correctly. It was one of the most exciting things that ever happened in our Saudi life.

I'm tired.

Just a had a scan down and realised I haven't posted any pictures on this thing since I fell in love with the Audi back in April. I don't carry a camera round the city documenting my New York life, so instead, for a bit of a change, here are some never before seen pictures from recent travels. To my long term readers I offer a challenge to identify as many of the locations as you can. There's a prize in it for whoever can name the most.

Found this rock formation near land my family owned 150 years ago. It amused me to think they probably also stopped and stared, wondering how on earth such a ridiculous looking thing was formed
My favourite place to eat ice cream in the dead of winter

Since I finished reading my Audrey Hepburn bio a couple months ago, we've been running an unofficial Audrey film season here at 45 Wall. Viewed so far, and following no particular order: Sabrina, Robin and Marian, Paris When It Sizzles, My Fair Lady... and tonight... I was feeling a little woosey at work, so evening plans were cancelled and I came home to a quiet apartment. All the flatmates were out. The perfect time to watch Wait Until Dark.

I don't as a rule have much patience for damsels in distress, and I'm a terrible armchair heroine - grumbling at the characters poor decisions under duress, shouting at the tv telling them to run the other way or just phone the blasted police already! But once Audrey took back contol, smashing out the lights, dousing nasty Alan Arkin with petrol and threatening him with matches, then acquainting him first with her kitchen knife and then a sideboard full of crockery. Ok, then I started to rather enjoy it. Almost makes one want to take on one's own band of sadistic crooks, though I'd rather just outsmart them than have to turn them into shish kabobs. Regrettably, New York is so safe these days...

One of my favourite comedians, Jeremy Hardy, is writing an account of his own family history explorations. The publisher claims it will be "part family memoir, part enquiry into the world of genealogy and part comic adventure - full of detours, wrong turnings and unexpected encounters with strange and interesting people". I can't wait! I love books about genealogy and family stories - I'm currently reading The Lost - and I'm a huge fan of Jeremy Hardy's Radio 4 appearances such as the The News Quiz - listen to the latest episode. I think this is going to be great. He just better hurry up and write the thing.

I've read a few other books that involve family histories like Tracy Chevalier's The Virgin Blue and most recently The Thirteenth Tale. If anyone can think of other similar books - fiction or non-fiction - please let me know. I've got at least another fifty years to keep myself happily entertained...

American tourist (to the Bodleian shop assistant): This building is lovely. Is it pre-war?
Shop assistant: Madame, this building is pre-America.

Just listened to a glowing review of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on BBC Radio 4 arts show. Fingers crossed!

And speaking of music... I think I'm going to have to book myself in here. I loved The Sound of Music when I was a little girl, my favourite film. One of the most wonderful things I ever did was going on the Sound of Music tour in and around Salzburg. I was 7. We visited all the places where they filmed, the houses, the lake, the gazebo. I was so happy. And, I don't remember this myself, but according to Mum I sang all the songs the whole journey and at the end the couple sitting in front of us turned around and said thank you and how much theyhad enjoyed my little soundtrack.

I finally listened to Radiohead's In Rainbows. All the hype and controversy - and gnashing of teeth at EMI - I just wasn't interested when it was first released. I suppose I like it. It's good, much like Hail To the Thief. It's not one of the records that I go bonkers for and listen to over and over and over again. Last record like that was Interpol (Our Love to Admire), and before that probably Arcade Fire (Neon Bible). There's also a bizarre webcast which I rather enjoyed - I love that it pokes fun at Se7en which is the stupidest loved itself and up its own rear end film I've ever seen.

I haven't spent much time listening to music in a long while. That used to be such a big part of my life, listening to new music trying to find the best, going to see bands, that's nearly all Lauren and I did for ages. I guess my enthusiasm waned when I lost my partner in crime. (Lauren, please come back to New York). But sometimes I'm in the mood so to speak and I'll go out and buy a bunch of new records. I'm also listening to Regina Spektor (Begin to Hope), Goldfrapp (Seventh Tree) and Band of Horses (Cease to Begin).

And I'm watching back to back episodes of the BBC show Life on Mars (modern day policeman gets bonk on head, wakes up in 1973 - it's AAA-mazing) and I've got hooked on the music. Early seventies rock music like Cream ,Thin Lizzy, classic Elton John and of course David Bowie. Is there a better song than Life on Mars?!

The Bovees are officially cutting ties with the kingdom of sun and sand. After fours months trying to get a new work visa, Dad has finally given up on going back to Saudi Arabia to work and will be making a short visit in the a few weeks time to retrieve his things from his apartment and say a final goodbye.

Saudi Arabia is no paradise and I would never wish to live there again. I haven't set foot in the place for over 8 years, but nevertheless it's where I spent my childhood and there is a certain pang, an odd feeling that comes when I think of how I will never go back now. Not that I had plans to, but this makes it so final.

I had a happy childhood. There were the usual upsets and embarassments, big scary dogs and mean kids on the school bus, but I had loving parents, a comfortable and inviting home and it was a safe place where we could roam freely without fear of anything really. I didn't realise it at the time, but my childhood seems to others so exotic and exciting. It was exotic and now I'm grown up I appreciate it. I was introduced a few weeks ago to a young woman here in New York who also grew up in Saudi Arabia and we hit it off immediately. It was wonderful to be able to talk to another person who knew all about our strange home.

I'm starting to sound all nostaligic. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot I shalln't miss. The crazy driving in Saudi towns, sitting in segregated restaurants, 110% humidity, the sickly smell of the smokestake on sulfur days. Being stared at. The fact that sometimes there was a war going on. All dreadful things, although it's still rather fun thinking about them all.

I guess my point is Saudi Arabia is a pretty crappy place, but yet how wonderful to have been there.

Things I do miss: Roger and Amanda (and all the other geckos who lived behind our television), the piles of palm tree husks after they'd been stripped bare, taking the "shoppers bus", the thrill of driving at the dizzying speed of 60 kph on the hobby farm road, Ambrose running/galloping in the desert. SHWARMAS. Oh how I miss Rahima shwarmas, though not the tummy aches I'd have after eating 8 of them in one sitting. And last but not least, I will never forget that strange sound they used to play before announcements at the Dhahran airport... I loved the (departure side of the) Dhahran airport.

I tried to get grandfather Warren Bovee's service records from WWII, but all they sent me was a Notice of Separation from US Naval Service. Here's what I learned:

His address at the time he joined up: 601 Stunts Avenue, Ashland, Wisconsin
He enlisted voluntarily (they may be what enlisted means) on 5 February 1943.
He was paid $414.14 upon discharge.
His last employer ws the Interlaes Steampship Company of Cleveland, Ohio.
His civilian occupation was Able Bodied Seaman.
His job preference on leaving the service was Movie projection machine operator.
He completed 8 years of grammar school and 1 year of high school.
He served on the vessel USS Gilligan.
He received an Honorable discharge.
Remarks: Good conduct, American Area Ribbon, Asiatic Pacific Ribbon 1 star, Philippine Liberation Ribbon, Victory medal

Stephen, some of this will make more sense to you. Feel free to comment when you are reading this next August.

What this didn't include was any information about his supposed injury and being taken out of service only to have his gun post destroyed some days later by a kamikaze attack. Am I remembering that correctly, Dad?

I spent the afternoon researching Finland, or rather Finnish companies, their labour market and whatever else looked interesting. Now that's a bit more like it. An honest days graft and a good time had as well. I read about tens of billions of Euros earned from flogging mobile phones and chunky orange handled scissors. And they make lots and lots and lots of paper. Now there's a surprise!

I also came across this You Know You Have Been In Finland Too Long, When... I don't pretend to know much about Finland, but I thought some of them were quite funny (17 and 33 in particular).

And this Immigrant families lining up for substitute grandparents I thought was a terrific idea. Goes along with all my preconceived notions about how clever and community-minded Scandinavians all are.

Just 10 minutes sitting up in bed with my laptop and my arse has gone completely numb. I have got to get a new mattress!

Next Thursday I'm going on my first official trip for work. I was supposed to go to South Africa and Botswana when I worked at the Foreign Office, but disaster struck, and I can't say any more it's making me upset thinking about it.

So next Thursday and Friday I will be at the Washington DC office, meeting with all the Workforce Sciences team members based down there. I want them to give me work, so it will be good to introduce myself, hopefully inspire some confidence, make friends and, you know, show them what a brainy bunny I am. They have a lot of External Labour Market analysis projects based out of their office (locating pools of talent, helping companies decided where to recruit/relocate) which could be fun. I spent some time my first couple weeks reviewing French, Swiss and Italian websites looking for the top technology schools in those countries. I want to do more of that.

They're putting me up in a hotel near the office Thursday night, and then I will stay on for the weekend with Kelly. Two trips for the price of one. I'm really excited!

I love shopping for books. I'll spend hours stalking the shelves of a bookshop. I'm not very good at making my mind up, and there so many to choose from. I so much prefer the old fashioned sort of bookshop, the musty smell, the new and secondhand books all jumbled up together, the basements and little rooms tucked away at the back. In London those shops are dying off one by one, and in New York they barely exist at all.

So my new bookshop is online. I decided yesterday to buy some new books. I just finished a book about Audrey Hepburn (a gift from my lovely auntie Paddy) and need something to read. I have unread books on my shelves at home... but I just couldn't help myself. I spent two wonderful hours (it could have been longer) browsing books and finally settled on three:

"The Lost: A Search for Six of Six Million" the story of an NY journalist who went in search of six relatives who were lost in the Holocaust, a sort of family history detective story of how he traced them and discovered who they were;
"Homemade Biography: How to Collect, Record and Tell the Life Story of Someone You Love" (yes Mum and Dad that's you!);
and "The Thirteenth Tale" about a woman who writes the biography of a mysterious author, part family history tale, part ghost story, it sounded intriguing.

I'm cheap so I went for the free shipping which takes forever. I think I'll read my Eric Clapton book in the meantime. Or The Master and Margherita. Or Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows again. Or...

I've promised myself, if I move back to England I'm finally getting a car, and not just any car. I want an Audi TT. It's a quiet day at the office, so I had a look on the interweb, and I found my dream car. For a second-hand motor, this is just heaven. They're affordable at 10k. And just look at her:

My little sister Lucy and her bun in the oven are coming to visit over 4th of July weekend!

It's the year of Bovees in NYC. Mum and J came in February, Lucy's coming in July and Dad and Stephen will be visiting sometime in the summer. It's like buses... you wait four years, and then they all come at once!