I don't think that I'm the sort of person who 'does' tours. Being ferried from place to place (including having to get out of bed at 6am, which is as bad as work).
I'm also a person who desires some degree of 'aloneness', which is the main reason why I don't keep any of my girlfriends. The only time I'm alone is when I'm in the toilet.
It seems that we are missing the really good stuff in order to go and stare at some rocks. Again, this lack of freedom rankles.
It would seem that the English really do pack our weather with us – there have been torrential floods in the desert state of Arizona. Which made our escape past the fire service rescuing people while wearing lifejackets rather interesting.
The tour guide is a pillock – just thought I'd get that in there.
And now there is a life-threatening heatwave heading our way (or rather, we are heading toward it.)
The really excellent bit is that I seem to have picked up an infection and am sitting here typing this (on the first internet capable place I've come across so far) shivering and shaking like one of my patients. While it may make a little vomit appear in your mouth I'm typing this topless with a wet flannel across my neck.
So… you know… Not a huge amount of 'joy' yet, but I think it's going to get better with LAs Vegas and San Francisco.
But I mustn't moan – really I mustn't, I'm lucky to be here watching awful American TV adverts (including my favourite of blokes singing about Viagra to the tune of 'Viva Las Vegas'.