I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I was far too restless with nervous excitement. I’m up early today, and taking a south-bound train to London for a weekend at the Country2Country music festival. That’s three entire days to fully immerse myself in my very favourite genre of music and reinvigorate my frazzled nerves. Pure heaven. Continue reading “Chickadee soup for the soul”
There’s two Jack’s I love in life, Daniel and White, and both are conveniently located here in Tennessee.
Today I’m heading out to Lynchburg to tour the Jack Daniel’s Distillery. Fantasising about visiting ever since I first caught sight of the JD posters in their black and white on the London Underground; I’m excited to take a tour of Old Number 7. Continue reading “You don’t know Jack.”
I love New Orleans. Everyone here is so friendly. People greet each other in the street, call hellos and comment on the weather from their front porches. It’s a great little community. Hapless Birt has been left behind momentarily in favour of a Louisiana lilt. After being advised to imagine my words stacked together like soldiers falling lazily into each other, I’m practicing a smooth southern drawl and I’m a regular dandy. Continue reading “Southern Comfort”
Coffee. I need coffee. And breakfast. And water, definitely water. My stream of consciousness this morning waking up on my first full day in here in New Orleans following a raucous evening. I head to Horn, a cute little cafe on Touro and acquire myself something called a ‘Jewish Coonass’. It’s a crawfish and latke combo and damn, is it good. A takeout box for leftovers and I head out into the sun. Continue reading “The Louisiana purchase”
Right that’s it. I need to get myself a millionaire American husband. Taking a jaunt yesterday down ‘Country Club drive’ (I shit you not) a street of houses just casually retailing at 4.5 million dollars apiece, I decided I want in. I must have been feeling optimistic when I packed for this trip as I appear only to have arrived laden with lacy lingerie and no granny pants in sight. I figure I can make this work-as long as I go light on the Peggy Mitchell twang. Continue reading “If I like it then i’m gonna get a ring from it…”