This Saturday morning sees the latest start yet for some of our number, with The Eagle and The Yankee knocking on the door of 3pm before they drag their sorry hides out of bed.

Silver and I, however, rouse ourselves somewhat promptly to go face the music regarding the car we abandoned yesterday eve. The ladies at the desk are undoubtedly unimpressed, but once again our smooth English tones pour oil on the choppy waters of potential opprobrium and all is well. So it is a final ‘bon voyage’ to the Suburban…goodbye old girl, you were a worthy foe.

Back to the hostel for a bit of downtime. Eventually Silver, Andthesea and The Big Man get up and decide to take a taxi out east to the parts of the city worst affected by Hurricane Katrina. The Eagle and The Yankee, once up and about, join me in exploring the Garden District around our hostel – a lovely, leafy part of town with ancient streetcars and huge overhanging trees draped with sparkly beads. Very nice indeed.

Early evening we three head to town and stand in line for the famous Acme Oyster House. Their specialty is char-grilled garlic oysters, and The Eagle is somewhat sceptical about this offering…until he eats the first one that is. They really are fantastic. I had a half dozen but really could have demolished a thousand more. Highly suggested fare.

All six of us are reunited at a nearby bar and we begin an epic tour down the vile Bourbon Street. Now I flatter myself to say that I’m a humble fellow, a man who remembers his roots and seldom gets above his station. However, I can say this categorically: I am better than Bourbon Street. We are all better than Bourbon Street. Even Silver and The Big Man are better than Bourbon Street, and they’re just the worst!

The sights and sounds and smells (oh the smells..) of that place will live long in the memory, but are not suitable for a PG-rated account such as this. I will, therefore, bring this post to a close with but one final comment: altogether another top night all round.