In Blytheville, Arkansas

I never thought I'd ever get the chance to visit Arkansas, but here I am. I have now visited 19 US States. I'm staying at the Hampton Inn, Blytheville, which is just off Interstate 55 north of Memphis and, apart from the fact that the hotel doesn't have a restaurant, it's okay. The room is good. There's a walk-in shower, a double bed, a decent television, free cookies and free WiFi, an empty fridge, a safe and other essential stuff, like an ironing board, an iron and a safe.

Room 113, Hampton Inn, Blytheville, Arkansas, USA

The woman on the front desk was very friendly, there's an outdoor pool I'll probably not use, mainly because it's outdoor and it's not that warm. I say 'not that warm' it's a darn sight warmer than the UK, at around 60 degrees Fahrenheit so it's not a complete no-no, but I just know I won't be swimming. I might swim in the hotel pool back in Memphis, but let's see how things pan out as between now and then there's a lot that needs to be sorted out.

My knowledge of Arkansas begins with the Whacky Races and the Arkansas Chug-a-Bug, ably driven by Saw Tooth and Blubber Bear, and ends with Jim Dandy, leader singer of a band called Black Oak Arkansas. When I was younger I used to pronounce 'Arkansas' as 'Arr-Kansas' not understanding how 'Arkansas' can be pronounced 'Arkinsore'. But there you have it; I mean, who would have thought that Towcester (a town in the UK) was pronounced 'Toaster'?

The view from room 113, Hampton Inn, Blytheville, Arkansas, USA

Something else I never thought I'd end up doing was driving in the USA. Normally I take planes, trains and taxi cabs everywhere – and on this trip I almost opted for the Greyhound bus from Memphis to Blytheville (anything to avoid driving) – but the bus left town at some ungodly hour and would have arrived in Blytheville miles too early, so the car looked like the only option. I'll admit that I fretted a little bit about driving in the USA, but the end result was this: it was alright.

I'd spent a lot of time online checking out Google maps and driving here 'virtually' using my laptop. Believe me it really helped. When I actually got on the road, having also scrutinised many roadmaps, it all seemed so familiar to me and was, in fact, a doddle. I crossed over from Tennessee into Arkansas half way across the Hernando De Soto bridge and then followed Interstate 40 until the road forked and I took Interstate 55, the right fork, heading north. On either side of the motorway there was, initially, nothing but cotton fields, something else I've never seen before, and then the cottonfields gave way to simply fields stretching away for miles on either side of the road.

I kept in the slow lane and I adhered to the speed limit (which ranged from 65mph to 70mph) and I tried to keep a sensible distance between my car (a Nissan) and the many juggernauts that passed on my left hand side. It was a leisurely drive and when I saw a sign reading 'St. Louis, 232 miles' I seriously considered driving a little further along the road, it was that relaxing. No wonder Americans think nothing of driving long distances; for a start most of the road users stick to the speed limits, and let's not forget that there are hardly any cars on the road, which always helps.

It took about an hour to reach the Hampton Inn and there's not much else to say at the moment other than the hotel doesn't have a restaurant, meaning I'll have to go into town later to find a decent place to eat, although there doesn't seem to be one. There is a Chinese restaurant next door, but the receptionist screwed up her face as if to say 'I wouldn't bother if I were you' and to be fair it didn't look brilliant from the outside. Furthermore, the last thing I want having travelled all this way to conduct just one interview, was to wake up with gut rot and be forced to cancel the whole thing. I'm also not planning on driving the car again until tomorrow so if I do go downtown, I'll take a cab there. The last thing I want is to be done for driving under the influence and ending up in jail for the night.

So I'm sitting here in room 113 listening to the humming of an empty fridge and looking out on blue skies and small trees swaying in the breeze. I'll probably kill time until around 1800hrs and then I'll mosey on down to the front desk and order a cab into town. I think the Holiday Inn has a restaurant, which is probably the best bet, but I'll check out Google. I need a decent dinner because for lunch I stopped off at a Holiday Inn in Memphis and had a disappointing chicken dish with loads of Kettle crisps – my mistake for forgetting the subtle differences between England and America. Here in the USA potato chips = crisps, so when I saw something on the menu described as 'pub chips' I, for some reason, expected those chunky chips the size of Jenga pieces, but oh no, it meant 'crisps' and more fool me too. Having spent around 18 months or so editing Potato Processing International magazine back in 2007 you would have thought that I'd remember that potato chips are crisps here in the USA.

Ever wondered about the difference between soap and bath soap? Wonder no more!

At lunch time, back in Memphis, I was told that in the USA 'felons' are not allowed to vote. I found it really strange that once convicted you're never allowed to vote again – in your entire life. Fine if it's just a 'misdemeanour'  – driving under the influence is a 'misdemeanour but becomes a felony here in Arkansas if you get caught again within, I think, five years of the original offence – but if you're a convicted felon, you can't vote even when they let you out of jail. In other words, 'they' never forget. They bear a grudge.

Lunch, Holiday Inn, Memphis – not great...

I decided upon an early dinner and wasn't sure whether to take the car or not. My gut feeling was don't take the car, just walk across a couple of deserted parking lots and enjoy a beer or a glass of wine without having to fret about drinking and driving. But two people told me this morning in Memphis not to walk around too much, even during the day, and if I do, keep a weather eye on what's going on around me. First somebody in the hotel mentioned it, then a taxi driver who said he knew of people mugged during the daylight hours – don't risk it, he said. But then the guy in the car rental shop told me it was fine 'around here' during the daylight hours so I wandered around and found the aforementioned Holiday Inn restaurant, the one that overloaded on the 'crisps'. I managed, as you know to get back to the car rental shop in one piece and now, as you also know, I'm in Blytheville, which really is a sleepy little town.

After fretting about what to do for dinner I decided to risk my neck and walk the 0.9 miles or so to Bistro Eleven 21, part of the Holiday Inn, Blytheville. When I got there (in one piece) I ordered tuna steak with beans and rice, a chicken noodle soup to start and an Octoberfest beer, brewed in Memphis, not forgetting a decaffeinated coffee and the obligatory glass of iced water (a staple in all American eateries).

The food was alright, but it didn't set the world alight and this was because Bistro Eleven 21 had an identity crisis going on. For a start it rather pretentiously called itself Bistro Eleven 21, but then it occupied a huge square space with carpeted floors and a mix of booth seating and straightforward tables. There was a long sports bar at the front of the restaurant and seated at the bar was a bunch of men in checked shirts and baseball caps, lending the place a kind of agricultural theme. Having the sports bar and the supposedly swish 'Bistro Eleven 21' name together didn't gel and while the food was alright, it had a tired look to it. Also, the food turned up suspiciously quickly after being ordered, which always bothers me slightly.

Beer in Bistro Eleven 21...best part of the meal

I ordered chicken noodle soup to start, but they hadn't provided me with a soup spoon. I started eating with what amounted to a teaspoon, but eventually had to ask if they had something bigger. They did. No sooner had my soup been taken away (it was good, but a little too salty) than my main course arrived – tuna steak with rice and green beans. While the food served my purposes (it was wholesome and relatively well-presented on the plate) there was something tired about it that I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was either trying too hard or not trying enough, I wasn't sure. Dining alone doesn't help, of course, but I certainly couldn't relax as I had to walk back to my hotel in the dark.

Dessert was offered, but, as always, it was a predictable roll call of unhealthy cakes so I declined and ordered a decaffeinated black coffee as a compromise and then asked for the bill, paid up and left. I'm now back in my hotel and it's only 1930hrs. Still, an early night will do me good.