It’s a lovely autumnal New England morning, and I’m lounging in a big purple business class seat on a train from Boston to Portland, Maine. Outside my window all I can see is trees – a lot of trees – punctuated by the occasional house. The house we just passed is already decorated for Halloween, with fake cardboard gravestones scattered about the front yard: “Osama Bin Laden”, “Saddam Hussein” – that kind of thing.
My final destination is Camden, Maine and ‘Poptech’, which I gather is a conference to do with culture and technology. Robert, my agent, is landing from Dulles in a couple of hours and we’re going to drive up – down? – together.
Yesterday I reached 365 days of not drinking. I don’t really have much to say about that, save for what I’ve already said a thousand times before. It’s still easy some days, difficult others. Yesterday was an easy one, tomorrow might be horrible.
Still… a year.