I have always hated transitions. As I type these words I realised that I said exactly the same thing in the first posting to this blog all those weeks ago. But it is true. I like being in America. I like being in England. I just don't like the transition. But you read all about that in my first post weeks ago, and although I feel that I am rapidly approaching my dotage, I try not to repeat myself too much.
It has been a wonderful trip. I am writing this late on Friday night as Corinna packs the cases. Just in case anyone accuses me of arrant sexism here, Corinna apparently believes that case-packing is one of the Eleusinian Mysteries that are only to be carried out by those not in posssession of a Y chromosome, and I have been banished from the bedroom.
As always, we have far more stuff with us now than we had when we arrived, and there were even more things that I would have bought if I hadn't been skint. I am feeling particularly melancholy at the prospect of leaving Texas. We have seen so many old friends and met so many new ones that it really seems as if (with only a very few exceptions) that the state of Texas and everyone in it has taken us to its heart.
I would like to thank Naomi and Richie for financing the trip and being so kind and generous to us over the past few weeks; Doug and Ronnie and family; Denise and family; Harvey and Deric and all at the Hyatt Ranch; Devin Macanally; Chad and Jonathan; Dr Phyllis Canion; Morgan and Jo from Minnow Films. There are dozens of other people who deserve our thanks, like Karina and Jamie for their kind presents; Nick and Dana Redfern; Ken Gerhard; Smiles Lewis; all at Dallas and Houston MUFONs; and many more (including, of course, Salem and Tiberius who I will miss tremendously) but I am feeling all emotional and can't really type any more....
slainte
Jon
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