A Special Builder's Notes


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13 December 2014

The Combination....

... of my incapacity when it comes to road maps (I'm sure they share a common ancestry with wiring diagrams) and the less than helpful road signing convention in the States, saw my grand expedition to Provincetown leave at 9.00am only to arrive an hour later, back at where I started. With an eye to my personal limitations and the legendary vagaries of American maps, I'd set off with the sun more or less in front of me (on the map my route would take me first East, then North) and was soon passing signs boldly informing me of my Southerly path. I took the first major left only to be told, a few miles down the road, that I was heading West. Back at the Inn I took advice - turn right on Main St. and just carry on. That did the trick.

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I was getting closer to what I was looking for (the Hopperesque scene) as I took a side road down to a beach near Truro. The sun had made an appearance in the morning but the further North I travelled, the more the scud closed the gaps and robbed me of the contrast that Hopper's work so starkly portrays.

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Further on, the road into Provincetown was not encouraging - a bit tatty - and this theme continued to the town itself. I'd arrived out of season - the whole place was shut down - and it looked a bit sad. No doubt the summer months would bring the place alive again but I'd have to be very interested in the Pilgrim Fathers (whose monument dominates the landscape) or gay (it's the gay capital of Massachusetts I learn) to want to visit again; an unlikely prospect on both counts.

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As I motored back along the coast road, the clouds on the horizon lifted just enough to add a bit of drama to the view and I think I got my Hopper shot...

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There's no doubt about it, the light on the Cape is quite singular.

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One last picture of a beach hut in Falmouth and it was time to concentrate on the upcoming nuptials.

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To welcome the out-of-towners, some of whom had travelled from as far afield as Israel, a supper had been arranged at Liam Maguire's Irish pub on Main St. I took my place amongst the guests and settled in for the evening's entertainment. I was lucky to find myself seated next to a metallurgist who specialised in metal plating and who was able to put me right on a couple of things.

But not my sense of direction.

previous post Ipswich...
next post Coming Home.


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