We're off to Graceland, Memphis. The home of Elvis/Rock n Roll/Country Music/Fried Peanut Butter Sandwiches etc.
We decide, in honour to the King himself we should don some suitable outfits- including a head-to-toe tie-dye look for myself and a glitzy sequined Chanel number for Ashley. Having dodged the 10 dollar Graceland car park for the free gift shop car park instead we excitedly canter over to the gates of the house itself.
Er.....28 dollars to get in? Each? But we don't even want the tour we just want to get up close and personal to the front door. Obviously West Memphis isn't so susceptible to our charms as we fail to blag our way in.
So what do we do instead? Buy some postcards of course. And a present for my mum (I'm not saying what as I think she is probably the only person who will actually read this). And lets not forget a LOT of pictures of ourselves jumping around by the sign. It is strange how after a few snaps I think we had all convinced ourselves that we really had 'done' Graceland.
We leave fully satisfied.
Back on the road we cross into Arkansas and hit rain for the first time. We grumpily turn the RV heating on and drag out one waterproof to share between us when necessary.
Morale is running low just as I hear.
Everyone is on their feet overcome with enthusiasm as we see our first actual WalMart. We screech into the car park as we leap out to see if its true that we can actually buy ourselves a gun there.
Who were we kidding? We emerge about 2 and a half hours later laden with about 20m of netting, 5m of fringing, needles, thread and some miniature bells.
Oh, and a water pistol.