Driving with Lucinda

A stroll round Cleveland’s centre
in a slight drizzle, shockingly enough. And while taking photos we’re engaged in much conversation by a local arty dude, pony-tailed David, who who fills us in on the sights further down the road. Great guy. A pal for life.
A coffee in Zoe and then off to Greenville* Its tiny museum has a photo of the bustling main street in 1963. Where did that prosperity go? And on the deserted sidewalk (yep!) the SK was interviewed by a cub reporter, Dee, for Delta News TV. Gun crime! Listen up, y’all! Hey, she studied sociology, y’know.
Back to old Highway 61 and the slowest fast food ever at Hollandale. It was actually well worth the wait.
And finally to Vicksburg** where I stepped out after the driving. And somehow missed a micro-brewery in the middle of the place. Things that shouldn’t happen.
Out to an old southern house y’all for proper food. Blackened catfish. Breaded oysters. And something that made MrP ridiculously happy - the waitress brought the wrong beer so
just chalked it off the bill. I wonder how I can order the wrong beer more frequently.


* Empty bottles and broken glass
Busted down doors and borrowed cash
Borrowed cash, oh the borrowed cash
Go back to Greenville, just go on back to Greenville
(Lucinda Willians. Greenville)

** Once I get to Vicksburg
I don't think I'll feel an urge
Once I get to Vicksburg
I won't even feel an urge
(Lucinda Willians. Jackson)