I've come to believe that travel is essential to the soul, reviving the curiosity that can easily get dulled through collision with everyday life, giving your mind time and space in which to bounce around ideas. So, even though I knew I was going somewhere that wasn't a place I could get excited about, I was still looking forward to it when I got out of bed this morning.

Packing is becoming such a chore, however. For one thing, my belongings are so much bigger than everyone else's, on account of my height. One pair of Timberland boots takes up half of my large suitcase ... well almost. Add to that the paraphenalia of equipment needed for both the work and website use of my laptop - cameras, connectivity equipment, tripod - the works. So I always have to allot at least an hour or so to pack, particularly if it's more than just a couple of days.

While I was packing, though, half my mind was thinking about an email I'd received from my sister Kirstie this morning. I mentioned a couple of days ago that my parents had been persuaded to move down South to be near my sisters in St Albans - they're both getting old, and my sisters thought it best to get them to move now before ill-health made it harder for them. Well, apparently, my Dad has changed his mind at the last minute, and decided to stay in South Shields, for reasons too private for me to go into here.

Kirstie thinks she can persuade them to change their mind again, but I was touched that she'd written to me for advice and help. It's the first time she's thought of me that way in ... well, probably since she was in her mid teens. Kirstie, who's ten years or so younger than me, and I were always close, when she was young. But during her teens, she became a very private, mysterious individual - still the same Kirstie with a mischevious smile on her lips, but no longer communicative, and no longer, seemingly, in need of companionship from her big brother. So her contacting me now in this way brought back to life my old feelings for her, and the desire to spend time with her alone when I'm back in England this Summer.

By nine o'clock, I'd changed into my "traveling outfit" (black, non-crease - very practical :) and was on my way, stopping only for gas ($34.00 to fill the gas tank - jeez!).

Pumping gas en route to the airport. The obliterating white light is from a nearby nuclear explosion. No biggy.

The flights really weren't bad. I had a commodious exit-row seat on the flight to Dallas, and the same on the tiny little commuter plane into the brand new NW Arkansas Airport. Amusingly, it was snowing on the airplane! The air-conditioning was on way too high! Despite the threatening rain (outside the aircraft :), and my own fears, the flight landed safely, with a minimum of bumps, and I was in my rental car well before dark.

So many people had told me so many dire things about this corner of Arkansas, that I had envisioned "Dark Satanic Mills" and an industrially blighted landscape. In reality, the lush green fields, the horizons dotted with clumps of trees, the ambling cows, and the thick grey rain clouds reminded me instantly of England.

Country road, take me home ...

Not only was the airport brand spanking new, so was my hotel. It had been open only two weeks, and I was assured I'd be the first to sleep in that bed. (Yeah, heard that one before!). The local restaurant offering room service to the hotel was called Molly Maguire's, and had the strangest description in the guest-services book - "in an atmosphere vaguely resembling the 1840 to 1870 coal mining ear of Pennsylvania" - huh? However, I'll have to reserve that pleasure for another night, since it was closed. So I ordered a chicken-caesar salad from the place next door, which had an atmosphere vaguely resembling a gas station food mart. I ate in my comfy room.