Back in Memphis...

I am being chased out of a house. In hot pursuit is a man with a gun. Make that a rifle with a telescopic sight. It's not an ordinary gun, it's a tranquiliser gun, the sort of thing that is used to take out elephants in need of urgent surgery, and it's loaded with a dart. The only problem is, I'm not an elephant. If that thing hits home, I'll probably be asleep for a week and who knows what might happen during that time. I'm running towards a crescent-shaped piece of road that looks familiar. In fact, everything looks familiar: the house out of which I ran and the road I find myself in. The man following me looks familiar too, a former work colleague who I've kept in contact with and see from time-to-time. He fires the gun, he misses and then I wake up. It's 0300hrs and I can hear the roar of the Interstate outside of my hotel window.

Yesterday I was on the Interstate, heading south from Osceola first on Route 61, cotton fields to the left and right of me and bales of the stuff sitting in the fields too, ready for collection. Route 61 is deserted, there's an occasional truck but nothing much and the speed limit varies from 55mph down to 20mph when the road meets with a town like Wilson. I was tempted to stop, but I had to get the hire car back to Madison, Memphis, for 1700hrs so I kept going.

I left the Hampton Inn at first light Thursday morning

Earlier in the day I had driven down Interstate 55 to exit 63 for Osceola and then followed Route 61 and Highway 198 to where I was conducting some business and then I set out for Memphis as described above. Early yesterday morning it didn't start to get light until around 0700hrs so I lingered over breakfast in the Hampton Inn, had two cups of tea instead of my usual one and sat there reading USA Today, a strangely shaped newspaper if ever there was one.

The Hampton Inn didn't have a restaurant, as you know if you've read my last post, so breakfast was my only opportunity to check the place out. It was fine, but it was one of those places that uses paper plates and bowls and plastic cutlery. Everybody dutifully disposed of whatever they'd eaten, plates and all, in a trash can, but that aside it was a friendly establishment with happy staff and I liked it.

Route 61 runs from New Orleans, Louisiana, to Wyoming, Minnesota, and in the days before the Interstate it was an important South to North route. It's a famous highway in a musical sense too as Bob Dylan, a native of Minnesota, released Highway 61 Revisited, which reached number 3 and 4 respectively in the US and UK album charts. It was recorded between June and August 1965 and opens with Like a Rolling Stone. "How does it feel/To be on your own/With no direction home," warbled Dylan and I kind of know how he felt.

And there I was, sitting alone at the wheel of a Nissan something or other, a big car, but not a Nissan Patrol. It did the job, but the journey back into Memphis wasn't as smooth as my outward ride yesterday. I missed a turning at one point and had to back track and then, once on Interstate 55 I missed the junction with Interstate 40, which meant coming into Memphis a little further down the Mississippi than I had intended. This had the knock-on effect of me being lost, but I eventually found Jackson and with the help of my iphone SatNav I made it back to the Sheraton and then back to Madison where I handed over the car and ordered a cab back to the hotel. The cab never arrived so the woman at the desk, who used to live in Illinois and came to Memphis as a child with her folks, kindly gave me a lift back to the hotel where later I enjoyed dinner in the restaurant before hitting the sack early. For dinner I had grilled salmon with cauliflower mash and mashed potato, not forgetting a glass of Merlot. It was the same dish I had on Tuesday night because I didn't really fancy anything else on the menu. Alright, I added the mashed potato and I forgot to mention the soup and two small bread rolls I ordered as a starter. An an old guy from Nashville was sitting on the next table and having trouble with the ribs he'd ordered. The meal proved too much for him so he ordered a plastic carton to take it away – a 'doggy bag' as we call them in the UK. His name was Jerome (Jerry) and he worked for the State of Tennessee. We chatted about Nashville and The Gulch and Demonbreun Street and how the city was really improving.

The American flag in Blytheville, Arkansas

It was good to be back in the Sheraton, this time in room 503, which is roughly the same as room 344 except it has a sofa and the view out of the hotel window is slightly different. If I look out I can see the Interstate straight ahead of me whereas from room 344 it was to my left. I'm also two floors higher up and in a different block (the Sheraton is two buildings next to each other). Last time I was in the North Block, but I don't know whether this block is West or East, it certainly can't be South so I'll guess it's West.

Today I fly first to Dallas and then from Dallas to London. I can't say I'm looking forward to it: 10 hours and then I'll be home – or rather I'll be at Heathrow Airport and will need a cab to take me the rest of the way.

Somewhere outside a bell is chiming 0800hrs and I'd better be thinking of breakfast. The weather's not as pleasant as yesterday, there are grey and overcast skies and the trees are virtually still, meaning no wind, but forget that for now, what about breakfast? Well, it's good at the Sheraton, there's fresh fruit (melon, strawberries, blueberries, pineapple, banana) there's hot food (scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon) there's yoghurts (various flavours) and there's cereal. On Wednesday morning, when I was last here, I had two cereals, one being kind of like Bran Flakes but with raisins added, and the other a bowl of porridge. They serve good porridge here at the Sheraton and that's no lie. Today I had just one cereal and that was the porridge, plus fruit and a yoghurt and then some scrambled egg with a sausage and 'breakfast potatoes' – wonderful.

One thing that bugs me about the Sheraton is the cutlery. Oh, it's not made of plastic, it's proper steel, but they expect me to eat porridge with a teaspoon? No sir, I want a decent-sized spoon, but I have to ask for it, which is annoying, especially as my porridge is getting colder by the second. But it's a minor irritation really and I can't say I have any real big complaints about the hotel.

I got to check out by noon and head for the airport, but I'd better check my schedule. Better go.