Roots

Over the big muddy river to Ferriday where there is the Delta Blues Museum; one I got wrong - it’s the Delta Music Museum. No blues. Ferriday is the birthplace of Jerry Lee Lewis and Jimmy Swaggart and that’s about it. The woman at the door was a McNeill and so therefore was delighted to see us. Ambassadors we are. Scottish Borats.
Back to visit the Basilica and we met a woman on the steps whose son had just come back from the pipe band championships in Glasgow. Truly, everyone is incredibly friendly.
Then an afternoon of reading in the shade before we made it over the road to the Ellicot place where there’s an open air pool which is technically shut - their manager Megan invited us yesterday as she sneakily opens it for friends. And us.
Then down to sit outside the Under-the-Hill saloon beside the Mississippi while the sun set. We skipped along to Magnolia for a meal before returning to the bar for a bit of cracking live music. We’d met the guitarist who has Scots roots and their singer earlier y’see so got a shout out as visitors from the old country which elicited much whooping and a hollering. I’ve no idea why - we’re all from somewhere, right?