On the road. Good Morning America, How Are You? 2nd November.

 I. 

This is the way the book reads on the last day. It's a day where we know we're out of the hotel at 11am but don't fly till quarter to nine that night. 

In my handwriting it says:

Today. Last day. Just food and bulletpoints dictated by J. (Which I'm fleshing out a bit as I go from stuff I wrote later. Cheating, I know)

1. Awake. At 4am. Went back to sleep (This is J). Woke at 9.30. (I'd been dead quiet) [Now drunk, can't write] - I have literally no idea what any of that's supposed to mean. Think I might have been writing the night before, I definitely wasn't drunk at 9.30am. So we're summarising things that happened the day before. I've had a quick peek ahead at the bit J wrote, that seems to make a lot more sense.
2. Carousel Bar. Finally got in. The moment it opened. 11am. Cocktails at 11am. it's a body clock thing. Honest. Met the lovely Richard and Ginabeth from Atlanta. Talked Beatles and others. I was so engrossed in the conversation that I had to ask J if the bar had revolved yet. We'd been round six times, I hadn't noticed. (It's a revolving bar, the room sits still, the bar turns round and round. Slowly, imperceptibly.) Ate chicken & biscuit slider with (stunning) truffle fries. J had a pink gin something, I went for the 'Plantation Old Fashioned' (Rum based rather than whiskey/bourbon)
3. Walked Canal and Marine Street to the garden district. Bit nothing really. Didn't do the World War II museum, headed back to the French Quarter 
4. Cheshire Oaks at the river. Found it on our way back from the garden district. Cheshire Oaks but not as good. Getting warm now
5. Walked loads. Theatre. (Found a theatre? This is why you write this stuff down. So you don't forget. BTW - we'd heard Brian Jonestown Massacre sound checking in a small club the day before. Tempted to go and see them but it was Halloween and I hadn't bothered seeing them when they played Liverpool so... and that was the third act we didn't see. Didn't see Queen in Nashville, didn't see Stevie Nicks in Memphis. Not actually overly bothered by either tbh)
6. Cafe and Orange Cake in a sun trap at St Pat's Irish Bar - apparently made the best Espresso Martini in Nola, according to the lovely John and his wonderful dog Miss Piggy. He was on his third of the day.
7. Walked. Bought presents
8. Found a bar. Bamboula's on French Street. Heard a sousaphone in the distance. Went in. Stayed forever. Ate Jambalaya. Watched the excellent 'Boardwalker and The Three Fingered Swingers'. Smoking hot 30s jazz, tap dancing, live and in front of you. Guitar, trombone, drums, Sousaphone. Nobody letting the guitarist know exactly how bloody good she was as she wasn't getting to do the showy stuff. Had a song dedicated to us again. This:

1. (No it's not, it's 9 - I just don't know how to change the numbered bullet list) Walked on from Bamboula's, found a great bookshop (found it the day before but it hadn't opened when we were by it). Met Richard Anglin.  A writer who worked there and had several books to his name, his latest documenting every African American citizen of a town in the nineteenth century - a mission to record the lives of people who would otherwise be lost to history. A work of passion from a man with a beautiful soul. (J found him first, I was busy looking at a book called 'Why Patti Smith Matters' and responding with the answer 'Because she's Patti Smith.')
2. A great band in D.B.A - The Tin Men. I've got their CD on my desk. Sousaphone, guitar and washboard. Swamp rock. Must have been nearly a dozen people watching them. Which is basically wrong on a galactic scale. Someone asked them to play some jazz so they threw in a Sun Ra track from the 50s. If you know Sun Ra then you know this probably isn't the jazz the customer was looking for.
3. Spotted Cat. Another great club. Another great band. The Shotgun Jazz Band. All of this in the space of 100 yards. 
4. Drunk. Eclairs. (Sucre over the road from the hotel, we'd been drinking cocktails, we needed coffee and the eclairs looked great.)

And there was the park. The Louis Armstrong Park. With statues of Louis, Mahalia Jackson and Sidney Bechet. And the Mahalia Jackson Performing Arts Theatre. And squirrels and absolute peace. 

We'd seen the white arch sign at the end of one of the streets on our first night. Saw the word 'Armstrong', thought nothing of it, didn't connect it. Which seems weird now. 

So glad we found it. Theoretically I knew how great Louis Armstrong was but it was filtered through the lens of the early 70s and where he stood then. In that park, you could feel his genius and the need for reverence and respect.

And then we exited the park into 'The Treme'. I'd watched every season, I had to do it. Now I need to watch every season again.

Now we're last day. Going home day. It's been the best.

J. 

6.40pm Thursday 2nd November. Sat in Louis Armstrong International Airport, New Orleans. 

That was the smoothest journey through airport security that I think I've ever experienced. Now we're sat at the gates, the sun has set and we're waiting for the call. Flight not set to depart till 8.40ish, fingers crossed it all goes to plan.

So, our last day here didn't disappoint. We started with breakfast at Cafe Beignet on Royal, just a couple of blocks from the hotel. (Waffles and French Toast). Left our cases at the Monteleone, helped by the wonderful Nolan in the baggage drop room. So lovely, guessed the weight of our bags just by picking them up. 

We just walked, letting our feet take us round the city. 

Ian found another book shop. But even I enjoyed this one. I found a book for our Tom and Ian picked up a few extra books. AND a record from the third floor record shop. 

I. 

I'd been looking for the book shop and the record shop. It didn't occur to me that they were the exact same place on the map until we entered the building. Went upstairs, no idea what I wanted, possibly some early Louis Armstrong, some King Oliver - given the experience in the park the previous day.

And the record shop was playing this record:

Which I'd never heard of. But it sounded a bit 80s, a bit gothy pop. A bit like something I'd have definitely bought a long time ago. So: "How much is this that you're playing mate?" And, for ten bucks, I bought it off the turntable as they played it. Two weeks on, I still haven't played it in full. But... I bought a lot of records over there, I still haven't got anywhere near listening to them all (current listening? A Mike Nesmith best of I've just bought for four quid in the Roy Castle Shop on College Road Crosby as J and I have been out for a beach walk and lunch. Conversation in the car? My twenty years in Fazak don't qualify me as being really North End. J's Bootle all the way through, she's properly North End apparently. The joys of being North End? We've got a beach, we've got the Iron Men.)

J again.

The building was so cool. Three floors, creaking wooden staircases and in the record shop you could see that the fella's bedroom/living quarters was right in the back. He actually lived in the shop. Amazing place.

We fancied a coffee and stumbled onto Cafe Amelie. Gorgeous little place. We just sat at the bar and ordered iced coffee (me) and ginger ale (Ian). But by the time we left we'd had Gumbo and cocktails. Just gorgeous. The sun was shining and they had cute little tables outside so we took our drinks and sat watching the world go by. Perfect. (I. Just relaxing and wonderful. No need to be anywhere, no sightseeing to do, just living for the moment we were in. Perfect is the word.) Lovely little horse drawn carriages clip-clopping past. 

(I. We always feel for those horses. They look tired, they look sad. One stopped next to us, the horse just stared. There was a definite 'I know' in his eyes.)

Headed up to the French Market and caught up with Jules and Paul. So nice to spend the time and we've arranged to meet up before Christmas when they're up here.

So, we're just sitting here now, waiting for our next leg of the journey, back to Heathrow. There's a terrible storm battering the UK so that will be fun. But can't wait now to get back to see the kids and our little Daisy. 

Just overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude. This has truly been the most wonderful holiday. So grateful and happy. :) x

I.

And that's where we are. It's two weeks since we got home, we're fully into real life (I'm a playwright, there's no way you can call that 'real life'), America sometimes feels like a wonderful dream. 

But that's why we wrote all this down, that's why P's gift of a book was so important, that's why I've put it all down here. 

That's why we took 1200 photos between us.

And if you've stayed all the way through this, thank you so much; it's an indulgence on my part, the idea that anybody reads this is mind blowingly lovely. And if you've said nice things to us, about this, about the photos, about the endless bombing of social media about the time we've had, thank you so much, it means the world. 

And you know the best thing?

Reading through all this I've realised that I haven't even started to do it justice. This has been the most perfect thing we've ever done. The most 'us' period of time we could have possibly asked for. 

Words are nowhere near enough. 

PS. If you're on Apple Music - here's the playlist. This is what the whole thing sounded like: 

https://music.apple.com/gb/playlist/nashville-memphis-new-orleans/pl.u-gxblvZ1u5vY45K