This morning I am as refreshed as can be. My decent spot of sleep has hit the figurative F5 key on the keyboard of the Mansfield corpus, and I’m ready for anything the day might throw at me.

The same cannot be said for the others. It seems that without my sage and guiding hand at the tiller New Orleans night #3 got somewhat sordid and very, very boozy. I am, however, unable to wring any details out of them due to my previous journalistic endeavours. I guess we, my friends, will have to imagine it…

A little later I stroll downtown with Silver, Andthesea and The Big Man to do a bit of shopping. We are scheduled to be picked up from the hostel ‘between 12.45 and 1.15’ for a ‘swamp tour’, but we are confident we can get in, get the necessary kit and get out again in a prompt and manly fashion. I buy some last minute souvenirs, and Silver and The Big Man source some good value vestments. Andthesea purchases a handsome Cleveland Cavaliers jersey, and somewhere in Ohio LeBron James smiled broadly.

Inevitably we are now running a little late, and this is exacerbated by the swamp tours bus driver fellow – who I shall call ‘Billy-Bob’, despite this probably not being his name – turning up ten minutes early and being annoyed we made morning plans. The Eagle calms everything down and we hop aboard to go a-swamping with ‘Airboat Adventures’.

Now airboats are, in many ways, the most awesome things mankind has yet conceived, and Bobby (actual name) our pilot and guide really lets it rip as we leave the little port and head out to the bayou. It tops out at 45mph, which feels swift enough I can tell you, especially around tight bends in between tall banks of green reeds and old cypress trees, turned white with salt.

Eventually we slow down a touch and we do some successful ‘gator spotting. It really is a mesmeric, verdant, wonderful landscape, and the idle sun has finally deigned to get his arse into gear and make with some rays. All in all a top way to spend an afternoon – one which was ‘capped’, so to speak, when The Yankee’s new baseball cap flew off his dome and dived into the muddy waters some forty, fifty, sixty yards back. We turn around to get it and The Eagle, that true Briton, goes to fish it out. We all pray that he topples in, but on this occasion The Almighty is abstemious with the divinely ordained physical comedy. One cannot, as they say, have everything.

*

Back at base camp we pick up some BBQ and enjoy it with beers (quelle surprise) in the garden of the hostel. The Big Man and Silver sling a ball around and somehow manage to bring down a whole ten metre string of fairy lights onto my head. The Yankee comes downstairs wearing a full suit and tie. He rolls his eyes at the mess of broken lights, then leaves before we can press him on where he got the suit and why he was carrying a violin case.

We meet a few folks at the hostel and night #4 in NOLA looks like it is taking shape. But once again I will not be in attendance, for tonight I have to ‘go see about a girl’. I imagine that without my calming influence the lads will once again overstretch themselves and fall into sin and/or vice. But where better to do so than New Orleans, Louisiana?

***

Late, late on the morning of April 19th people are traipsing back to the dorm room. Bags are beginning to be packed and there’s only a few hours until our taxi to the airport. Then, finally, awfully, lamentably, it will be back to Heathrow via Miami then…and I type this with dread…work first thing on Wednesday morning…oh lawd..what a vile, ghastly thought…

But to strike a happier final note, what, WHAT a holiday! Quite sensational from pillar to post, and a tip of the hat to The Yankee, The Eagle, The Big Man, Andthesea and Silver for making it such a riot. And thanks to all who have come along with us through this here humble blog. It’s been a pleasure to write, and I hope it has been an enjoyable read.

Until next time my friends, adios! God bless you all, and God bless the United States of America.