Brimmer St.
It’s late at night in Boston, and I’m alone in a big echoey house. But I feel at home—this was my home for a year and a half, and although it’s not the same without my former roommates Esther and Rohini, it’s still deeply relaxing to lie on the sofa (regular readers of my blog will get the impression I do a lot of lying on sofas. And I do), listen to the birds chirp, and hear trees rustle. You sure don’t get that in New York City. And I sat for a while on the stoop in the late afternoon, drinking an iced latte. You also don’t get to do much stoop sitting in NYC—unless you have a gazillion dollars or bought your property a long time ago.
Then I met some former students for dinner. They’re so smart, talented, and funny. It was a good time, which I followed by taking a taxi to Ivan and Joleen’s. Ivan said many silly things and then, as we were leaving, shouted after Joleen in Spanish: “Tell Marie I’m sorry for what I said! It’s not my fault! I’m drunk!” Don’t worry, Ivan. I never take what you say seriously. I know you’re full of it 
I am here in Boston for a very important purpose: to hear JK Rowling give the commencement speech at Harvard’s graduation. I shall give a full report of that soon. Thanks to Vic for giving me the ticket!
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