Boston

Tuesday of last week, a trip to Boston, a horrendous two hour journey.

Boston a dump. Not a dead town, or even a dying town, few empty shpps, but, streets lined with the junk food takeaways, vape shops, Turkish barbers, gambling. The streets deserted, and the few in the streets, smoking. A dumping ground for East European immigrants .

The businesses are owned by immigrants, exploiting other immigrants. Bored, no passion, quality, they are not.

I looked in an Italian restaurant, Vincenzo’s. One of the few places open. Nearly tripped over a rope across the doorway. Did not have risotto listed on the menu displayed outside. Deserted. I did not stay.

Artisan Bakery. All the bread on display claimed to be sourdough, when it clearly was not.  Did they bake the bread? No. Not a clue on the bread, or on the baked goods. They have a sister bakery in Spalding, another dead Lincolnshire town.

Fika. A Swedish coffee shop? Unfortunately not. Not a clue on the coffee. Gravel and hard standing out the back, called a garden. A wide-screen TV, immigrants smoking. I ordered a bagel, the least innocuous item on the menu. A long wait, a sad looking bagel, with a little salad. It was not fresh. Very poor quality compared with The Bagel Project in Nottingham.

A short cut to the bus station over a foot bridge. Only it was not, a dead end due to a building being demolished.

Dreadful bus station, no indication of what bus went where, no times. I asked the first bus I saw and luckily it was leaving for Pilgrims Hospital.

On my return, I popped in a rough Portuguese cafe near the bus station, A Taste of Portugal. My espresso was reasonable

Back in the centre. A tapas restaurant, Portuguese tapas .  Next door, a bakery offering matcha.

I popped in to the bakery. Asked of the matcha, asked to see the matcha powder. Satisfied it was bright vibrant green, and of how they made , I ordered iced matcha latte. I had wanted to see it prepared, but was out of sight out the back. To my pleasant surprise, it was reasonable. I am still baffled, a bakery serving matcha.

Head to the railway station. No way was I enduring a  return trip by bus.

The train was Skegness to Nottingham. I changed at Sleaford, half an hour wait for the next train.

• PHOTOS Boston

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