Maine, New Hampshire & Vermont (16 May 2007)

The morning started well as I drove around half of Boston trying to find someone who could replace a tyre that day. 6 hours and 3 new tyres later and with a bit of road trip re-planning, we set off towards Portland in Maine. The nice walk along the beach was less appealing when the torrential rain set in, so instead we went for bit of a culture and visited the museum of Wadsworth the poet which included a guided tour of Wadsworth’s house. The house was interesting and some parts actually reminded me of Seagull Cottage (the reason for Phil’s absence this week). The entertainment was increased by one of our fellow tourists who was a rather excitable woman who would ‘ooh and ahh’ at every little thing.

We left Portland, and despite the heavy rain and tornado warnings, the drive through New Hampshire was very beautiful and the photos really don’t do it justice. We soon made our way towards the mountains in Vermont just in time for darkness, fog and continuous rain to set in. R continually reminded me of the numerous horror movies which involved 2 girls driving in the north eastern states of the US and so we decided to make our own real-life movie which I would include in this blog post if the blog masteur was not away holidaying somewhere. I have to admit that that this drive was one of the more worrying parts of the trip and we were grateful we had 3 nice new tyres on the car and tried not to think about the fourth one which hadn’t been replaced.

At 2am we arrived at our hotel (http://www.ichotelsgroup.com/h/d/cp/1/en/hotel/LKPNY/welcome) which was in the mountains and overlooked Lake Placid. Suddenly the treacherous journey felt worth it especially as we were shown to our upgraded lake view room. Unfortunately the hotel assumed we were a lesbian couple (naturally) and upgraded our 2 bedded room to a king bed suite. When I spoke to reception, they seemed to have difficulty understanding why we wanted 2 beds, and eventually said “ohhh...we tend to make assumptions about the relationship of the guests when they check in”. Anyway, a quick room switch and we happily enjoyed the hotel which is home to the Olympic training center, has hosted the Olympics and is where the PGA players stay during the Colonial tournament. Eating lunch in the grand room overlooking the mountains we could feel our sporting prowess increase and even considered competing in the next Olympics just so we could visit the hotel again.

Connecticut, Rhode Island & Massachusetts (15-16 May 2007)


After 24 hours in Manhattan, we could hear Connecticut calling. Always keen to advance our education, we made a quick stop at Yale University before heading on towards Rhode Island. Inspired by Yale, I am now in the process of developing a new social theory using research material I collect on my travels around the USA. I don’t wish to divulge too much information but it relates to how a US State’s social advancement is related to the number of times a truck (or sometimes car) driver sounds their horn at a convertible car containing 1 or more females. As I am driving such a car, I realised I’d be the perfect subject for this investigation. Anyway, I was telling R about this theory when 2 guys leaned out of their car window and shouted at us. I dismissed them and told R that this just was more research material for my theory. Unfortunately, as we soon ground to a halt at the side of the road, we realised the guys were trying to warn us of a flat tyre. The one plus point was that we happened to break down at a scenic overlook so were able to admire the view of Rhode Island, as we waited for the AAA.







This little adventure put us back by a few hours so the anticipated lunch stop in Rhode Island turned out to be late dinner near Newport, RI. However, we did manage a mini drivette along the coastline in near freezing temperatures, just before it got dark.



Realising we would not make it to Brunswick & Bath in Maine that night, we made the executive decision to stay just outside Boston in what is probably one of the worst Holiday Inn hotels I have ever experienced. But after the flat tyre, nearly running out of petrol/gas and a diversion through the more unsavoury parts of Boston, any room looked pretty good to us.

New York City (14-15 May 2007)




After 2 days of Atlantic City excitement, I was in need of some less tacky civilisation and made my way to the Big Apple to meet my second road-trip accomplice, R. After a minor diversion via Brooklyn, we found each other at our trendy Manhattan hotel and immediately hit the streets to check out ‘Ground Zero’. We decided against the official tour which seemed to mimic a walk through a building site, and made our way to Battery Park for a photo shoot with the Statue of Liberty. From there we spun by Central Station but failed to find the big clock so instead we went to the Chrysler Building to check the time. Next stop was Times Square where we picked up ½ price tickets for the Phantom of the Opera – an amazing experience except for the continuous cell phone interruption from the guy behind us. However, a couple of evil stares from myself and a slightly violent interception from the person next to him soon put a stop to that.


The next morning, we decided to delay our departure to Brunswick and Bath, Maine so we could complete the NY experience. We considered paying $40 each for a coach tour of famous scenes from ‘Friends’, ‘Sex in the City’ and other TV shows but with a bit of help from our friends (the internet) we figured out our own self guided version of the tour. After wandering around a residential area, we found the Friends building and then Washington State Park provided us with photo opportunities of the famed arches. We confirmed that the Magnolia Bakery featured in Sex in the City does indeed have the most fabulous cup cakes in the world and we tracked down Carrie Bradshaw's appartment so that R could do her best 'Sex in the City' pose. After a bit of shopping in Manhattan, it was time to set off towards Conneticut, Rhode Island and Maine. Admittedly a few hours later than planned but we figured could easily make up time en route. Unfortunately we didn’t plan for the flat tyre....

Delaware and New Jersey (12-13 May 2007)

My visit to Delaware was so short, I almost missed it but I did remember to stop for 2 minutes to take this photo.

Then I headed up to see the beautiful New Jersey shores I have heard so much about. I stayed at a very nice resort (http://www.seaviewmarriott.com) so I could view these shores, but despite it’s name, it does not have a very good sea view. I also chose it as I assumed it would have nice bike routes, but the concierge advised me that the nearest bike ‘trail’ was the boardwalk at Atlantic City.

So off I went in my car, with bike in tow and started cycling along the 6 or 7 mile boardwalk. That was until I met the police who informed me that it is illegal to cycle there after 10 in the morning. As it was almost 8pm I couldn’t really claim that my watch was still on Central Time. On the plus side however, I got to see a place that is even tackier than Blackpool, UK. With Caeser’s Palace and something that vaguely resembled the Luxor, Atlantic City looked like a mini version of Las Vegas which had gone horribly wrong. I have to say I was pretty relieved to return to my hotel with sealess view.

West Virginia, Virginia and Maryland (11-12 May 2007)


My birthday eve and it was time to hit the town of Charleston, WV. Being the capital of West Virginia and, according to their website, a ‘happening place with lively nightlife’ we thought it would be the perfect place for a night out. What we didn’t know was that most people go away at the weekend according to our friendly waiter who served us at a great French restaurant (depicted below). Quite a big place which apparently attracts senators every once in a while, but it appeared to be a one man band as far as staff are concerned. Whilst the restaurant is owned by the waiter's mother, the waiter was alone and would disappear for significant periods of time. It wasn't until he described his impressive resume which involved attending the best chef schools in France and working in lead chef roles in various restaurants that we realised that he was actually heading off to the kitchen to cook our food whenever he disappeared. Oh well, keep it in the family, that's what I say. After our French Connection, we found the only bar in Charleston which contained people and chatted to some locals who were very friendly but suddenly disappeared with no warning. Trying not to take this personally, we talked to the manager who provided me with some road trip advice until he also disappeared rather suddenly. But we weren't deterred and despite me spilling drinks, dropping a glass and nearly falling off my stool, we had a jolly ole' time.


My b’day started well with a muffin complete with candle and we drove the many, many miles through West Virginia, Virginia towards Baltimore, MD. The view was beautiful and apart from meeting an ice storm with golf ball size hail stones threatening to spilt the roof of my convertible, the journey was fairly uneventful.

The outskirts of Baltimore was a place of momentous events as I said farewell to M at Baltimore airport and visited my 7th Circuit City. But most importantly, I bought my first laptop of the trip which still works one week later. Perfect for writing lots of blog posts.....and perfectly timed for Phil's absence so he cannot vet my grammar, spelling and incorrect use of commas and apostrophes prior to publication. Im muchly looking forward to his reactions on his return.

Georgia & South Carolina (9-11 May 2007)




2 nights and 1 day later and I was suitably impressed by Savannah, GA as well as the nice hotel which M found (www.marshallhouse.com). Lots of squares, lots of historic buildings and apparently lots of ghosts. That's Savannah, not the hotel. But despite taking a night time tour of the town hosted by a guy with a fake British accent (he obviously didn’t anticipate me being there to blow his cover) who gave us detailed instructions on how to break into the graveyards at night, we didn't see anything that was even remotely scary.



The next day, we drove to Charleston, South Carolina which was a lovely town similar to Savannah, but alas, alack no dancing was to be seen. But I did get to experience my 5th Circuit City of the road trip. Purchasing a working laptop was a lot harder than I ever envisaged and by this point I was beginning to think my entire road trip would have to be planned around the Circuit Citys of America. But we did manage to get the one in question, and whilst it later proved to be faulty, we felt a certain amount of accomplishment when M booked a hotel for the night using one of the display laptops whilst I kept myself occupied with all the laptop swapping fun.


We progressed onwards and upwards where we stayed a night in Charlotte, SC which is apparently one of the top finance citys in the USA. Most surprising considering it's un-metropolis nature and the severe lack of clearly labelled Starbucks, but we did manage to have a nice lunch before heading towards West Viriginia to celebrate my birthday eve.

After a night in Kentucky, I felt the need to see something Kentuckian but being a vegetarian, the chicken was not appealing. However, I did find a Shaker museum nearby and I have to say was more impressed by this than anything Graceland had to offer. It was very tranquil and had a fantastic shop selling Shaker wares. The surrounding countryside was nice too and so I dispute all those who recommended that I omit Kentucky from my tour. Now admittedly, I'm not sure the Shaker museum was quite as fantastic as it's Wizard of Oz counterpart in Kansas but it certainly came close.

From there I started the long drive to Savannah, Georgia to meet my first road trip accomplice, M. On the way, the advertising for Lookout Mountain in Chatanooga worked for me and I decided to use that as my belated lunch stop.

The view was pretty impressive and I could definitely see all 7 states simultaneously. They just need a few more points like this, and my road trip could be over in a fortnight.

Just when you think you can go on holiday without writing another blog post...

The postman's been, and not content with delivering items of mail for the wrong flat (which he does approximately every other day), he's now delivering post for an entirely different road.

But this time I forgive him. Because if he had even the vaguest idea of how to do his job, I wouldn't now be in possession of a DVLA tax reminder for the man with the most fantastic name in Britain...


There's one man who won't be shortening his name to Dick.

It's the letterhead I've been dreaming of for the past five years...


Yes, the BBC have finally realised that Graham Norton's doing nothing for audience figures, and it's time to turn to a fresh face to restore some credibility to the primetime schedules. They want to know if I'm free on Saturday nights.

Or perhaps not.

The letter which dropped through my letterbox yesterday afternoon (what's gone wrong with Royal Mail?) is actually from Manchester United fan and long-time nemesis of Jeffrey Archer, Michael Crick. Though you'd never guess that from the signature. Michael and I were brought together by our mutual respect for David Van Day, and love of spelling mistakes, though he's currently refusing to let me take over from Paxman on Newsnight, which seems a bit unreasonable to me.

Anyhoo, I would explain further, but I have far more important things to discuss. Today, I'm pleased to report, was my Six Month Review down at the Jobcentre. Which is odd, as it's only two months since my 13-Week Review. I think the last one was such a success they couldn't wait until June to see me again.

Justin was just out, so this time I saw a Job Adviser called Ade. Naturally I planned to break the ice by calling him Lemon, but before I could get a word in edgeways, he informed me that his name's pronounced 'Addy'. So I thought on my feet and called him Teak for the rest of the interview. He didn't seem to mind.

It being half a year since I declared myself no longer loopy in a clinical sense, we naturally had plenty to discuss, though to be honest we talked more about Ade's hayfever, and the fact that the Jobcentre have lost my case file. Again. He said "This happens all the time". I said "I know".

But we eventually bonded over a box of tissues, and I came out of there feeling a lot better about myself, and with a new determination to find someone willing to give me an interview for a minimum wage job. Though obviously I'm not getting my hopes up. And besides, I'm going on holiday tomorrow.

Lisa and I have a long-standing commitment to only ever stay in properties owned by my family, so when we're not living in my brother's flat and spending weekends at my parents, we're holidaying with my sister. Unfortunately she's currently at the top of a mountain in Tennessee, and is stubbornly refusing to invite us over this year, so we've compromised and agreed to accept a week at her cottage in Weymouth instead.

When I last mentioned the place two years ago, I made light of the fact that the brochure describes it as "petite". Well I'm pleased to say they've revised it since then. They're now calling it "very petite". That's Advertising Standards for you.

Seagull Cottage may have all mod-cons (apart from an upstairs toilet, or any room to swing a cat), but it doesn't have internet access, so this will be my last post until we return. For the next week it's over to Big Sis...

Anyone who knows me well, will know that my life is an endless round of good deeds and charity work, and I stop at nothing to improve the lives of others. Unless it involves putting myself out too much. Yesterday was a fine example. Strolling along Madeira Drive (five minutes walk from my flat) I found a Barclays Connect card lying on the ground. There was no one around, and it didn't expire until 2010, so naturally my first thought was to return home and use it to access premium porn websites. But then I thought no. That would be wrong. And I could probably be traced by my IP address.

So having spent five minutes trying to think of a foolproof way to spend, spend, spend without leaving a trail for the police, I eventually decided to return it to the nearest branch of Barclays. I wasn't planning on going straight there (I had numerous important places to go, not least the computer games shop in Western Road), but having walked another 200 yards along the seafront I became so paranoid that I convinced myself I was the victim of a major police sting, and was about to be jumped by twenty officers demanding to know what I was doing heading away from Barclays with a stolen card in my pocket.

So I changed my plans and went straight there. It's impossible to hand in a lost card without looking slightly shifty, but I think they believed me when I said I hadn't stolen it. My only disappointment was that there wasn't a reward (and yes, I did ask), but I'm sure I'll receive my reward in heaven. Hopefully in cash.

My main reason for going out, however, was to visit Crane Kalman, an art gallery in North Laine which is currently exhibiting a collection of photographs by Mary McCartney, the eldest daughter of a Beatle and a vegeburger magnate (who also took a few snaps in her time).

The collection is entitled 'Off Pointe – A Photographic Study of The Royal Ballet After Hours'. I wasn't sure what the pointe was, but I did enjoy the exhibition. And not just because it was free to get in. Mary doesn't seem able to afford colour film, but despite that, she manages to capture a lot of poignancy in her work. I particularly liked the one of the ballerina and the washing machine, but my favourite one was this, because it reminded me of Lisa...


Not so much for the balletic physique, more for the love of crisps.

As for today's good deed, well that involved answering a cry for help from the editor of the Kemptown Rag, who felt that next week's issue was lacking the kind of pointless, over-long ramble I've made my own in recent months, and wondered if I could come up with something at short notice. Naturally a lack of ideas is no bar to writing an article, so I sat down this morning and knocked out 950 words. 948 of which were lifted from last week's blog posts. I wonder if it's wrong to plagiarise yourself..?

The thing about militant activists who stop at nothing to get their point across, is that they're easily put off by a bit of rain. According to the Priced Out website, the plan for Sunday's protest was "to create a large gathering in a prominent place, which will make a good media photo opportunity for our campaign, as well as something that will look good on the TV". So they must have been a bit annoyed when only ten people turned up.

To be honest, they weren't even the most vocal group there. That prize went to the 'Bring Omar Home' campaign, who'd lost the 'HOME' part of their banner, presumably having been priced out of it by Gordon Brown. But what they lacked in placards, they more than made up for in volume, courtesy of a woman with the voice of a foghorn, who led the chant of "Bring Omar Home, Close Guantanamo Bay".

Frankly if Omar had seen the weather, he wouldn't have wanted to come home. The closer we got to showtime, the more it poured with rain, and the less I felt like getting on TV. I wandered down the road and watched a display by the Cuckoo's Nest Women's Morris Dancers, who not only outnumbered the protesters, but were more determined to perform, but after ten minutes it became pretty obvious that Gordon wasn't coming to the party. Things got so desperate that some adults from Save the Children handed me a card asking Are You Gordon Brown?. So having exchanged shrugs with a TV crew who were sheltering under the same archway as me, I trudged home.

The evening, however, was far more successful. As Lisa and I jogged down Eastern Road at 7:20pm, panicking that we were late and wouldn't be let in, I felt strangely confident of meeting celebrities. Partly because we'd paid (well I'd paid) good money to do so, partly because I'd since discovered that Heather Mills-McCartney was at the Streets of Brighton event on Friday, but mainly because Lisa assured me that Zoe Ball was a close personal friend of Patsy Palmer, and was bound to turn up.

Lisa, it goes without saying, was wrong. But having failed to win our own personal Spot the Ball competition, we settled down for a journey through the world of hellish addiction. It's interesting how many people are quite happy to sit through an hour's lecture on alcoholism whilst sipping a glass of wine from the bar. I think I was the only bloke there without a pint of beer in my hand. But that aside, it was an interesting evening.

The event was hosted by Peter Guttridge, the Observer's crime fiction critic (and let's face it, some of Patsy's writing is verging on the criminal), and having invited the two authors to read aloud from their books, he proceeded to ask them a few questions, before throwing them open to the audience. A decision he probably regretted the moment the bloke sitting in the row in front of us, who'd clearly taken something that evening, put his hand up and declared that excess is good, and we should all drink as much as we like. He clearly had.

William Leith was quite entertaining, and should probably be given his own show, while Patsy failed to plug her tanning products and didn't say "Ricky!" once, which was a bit of a disappointment. She did, however, talk about her love of Primark, and how she started smoking cannabis at the age of 11, before revealing that her eldest son is struggling to read her book at the moment. Him and me both.

But if there's one thing I'm addicted to, it's getting close to celebrities in the wild, so with Lisa skulking in the corner with an embarrassed expression on her face, I jumped straight in afterwards for a chat with Patsy, and got her to sign my book. Well, it's actually my Mum's book. But I'm sure she won't mind that it's now dedicated to Lisa.

William Leith did his best to ignore me (he was probably thinking about food), but Patsy was quite accommodating, so like a true paparazzo I whipped out my camera and took this high-quality shot...


It's hard to believe I'm not a trained photographer.

800 miles down and only 11,500 to go! If I could keep this up, I'd be finished in a fortnight. I’m now in Kentucky which isn’t the most exciting state I have ever visited, possibly because I don't eat fried chicken, but I’m sure things will improve when I visit the Shaker Museum this morning. I'm more of a mover than a shaker, but the gift shop sells brooms, baskets and bonnets, so it looks well worth a visit.

My first stop on leaving Texas was Arkansas, which was intended to be no more than a quick overnight stay. However, that was before I noticed the signs to Little Rock National Park. Being the holder of a National Park annual pass, I naturally felt the need to exercise this privelege and promptly took a 70 mile detour, a decision which might have made more sense had the place not turned out to be so small that I managed to drive past it three times. After which I stumbled upon the entrance and discovered that entry is free, with or without a pass.

But on the bright side the views were quite nice and I found some fellow Brits who were more than happy to take this pic. Probably because there was nothing else to do. I then went for a cycle ride through locations straight out of a 'Visit Arkansas' advert. Of course, the one thing they don't mention on the adverts is the large number of black snakes which spring out of the grass and attack your legs. If I could have been assured they weren’t poisonous, they might have been quite cute, but having already experienced my fair share of Yosemite bears, Texan black widows and poisonous Las Vegan spiders who bite me, I decided to keep the snakes at arm's length. Well, leg's length.

Having reached the end of my ride, I noticed that the name of the reptile-infested street I'd been cycling down was 'Black Snake Road'. I've made a mental note to read more of the signs around me in future.

Leaving behind the snakes in the grass, I made my way to Memphis in Tennessee where I discovered that no one could understand my accent and I had to resort to using pen and paper to ask where the nearest Circuit City was located. It's just as well I'm good at Pictionary. Not being a fan of Elvis, I wasn't sure what I would make of Graceland, but felt the need to go. The house was interesting, although I missed the crucial two seconds of the tour where they explained who Grace was.

The highlight for me was Elvis' private jet which was a converted airliner featuring a bed with FAA approved seat belts (thankfully). By the end of the tour, I did feel a certain amount of empathy with the old guy though. His love of partying without drinking alcohol, and insistence on painting his house blue wherever possible reminded me of my own experience at Seagull Cottage. I might have to start doing daily tours.

Last night I made it all the way to Kentucky where there seems to be some kind of special deal on sex changes. From gas stations to hotels, everyone I meet seems to be halfway through gender reassignment. I feel quite out of place. Hence my decision to take refuge with the Shakers.