The map shows our route home, from Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia to Houston, Texas. Today we knocked off the first 500-odd miles and have just rolled into Atlanta, Georgia in order to sleep. I was all for ploughing on through the night you know. At the end of a holiday there is a desperate urge to get home and we have it within our power to do it as quickly as we can - we're not reliant on the jet-stream or an airline to convey us. Tomorrow we'll get up EARLY, get going and keep going until the remaining 900 miles have been conquered. Assuming Laura will make me stop for lunch and dinner (must get home, must get home!) then we'll get back, finally, before midnight tomorrow. Hopefully.
Before the epic penultimate leg was undertaken, we squeezed as much as we could from a few more hours in Williamsburg. Our luck was in, as the historical re-enactors were able to recreate the entire War of Independence in forty-five minutes. First they read the Declaration of Independence from the balcony of the Capitol, with much whooping from the 21C tourists. Then there was some brief respite as Benedict Arnold, resplendent in his red Brigadier-General's coat, arrived to raise the King's Colours on the flagpole and reassure us loyal subjects that the rebellion was doomed. We braved the boos to shout "God save the King!" but it didn't seem to help much; General George Washington himself rode up straight afterwards and boasted how he was going to whup the British at Yorktown any minute.
Yeah right, good luck with that, loser!
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