Our trip to the US Pacific North West did not begin well. Our Delta airlines flight was substantially delayed at take-off. By the time we had crossed the Atlantic the flight crew were running out of working hours. We landed at JFK and sat on the tarmac while the cockpit tried to persuade Immigration to allow us to land, without success. So we continued to the airlines hub at Cincinnati. Here we were put up for the night in a English-history themed hotel in Northern Kentucky, before flying on to Seattle the following morning. Immigration officials at Cincinnati were remarkably cordial and welcoming, given that they were being delayed on site especially for our very late arrival.

It rains frequently in Seattle, but we must have been due some good fortune, because our day touring was perfect. We went up the Space needle, amused by the 45 seconds of in transit commentary from the lift attendant, and took a boat ride round the harbour, with a lively commentary provided by a local guide. Lunch was at the Elliott Bay Restaurant on the harbour front, watching the sun sparkle off the waves in the bay.

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I have been reading Colm Tóibín’s novel Brooklyn. It is set in the mid nineteen fifties in southern Ireland and in Brooklyn. The story is the story of Irish emigration, at a time when the economy is stagnant and jobs difficult to find. Eilis Lacey’s brothers are in Birmingham in England. Her sister, Rose, does have a good job, but Eilis can only find a Sunday job in a local shop.

Her emigration to Brooklyn, where opportunities are better, is mediated though her sister Rose and the brief return of an Irish priest from Brooklyn. Father Flood organises her employment with Bartocci’s in Brooklyn which enables her to get immigration papers. Her sister has one of the few good jobs around, but by sending her sister away, she is condemning herself to remaining close to their mother and giving up chances to marry.

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Outside the air-conditioned car, it’s 100 degrees. The Mojave Desert stretches away on either side of the highway. We have been maintaining a steady 60 on the clock for quite a while. But we are, nevertheless, in a queue. The same vehicles have been in front and behind since our last stop at Baker and will still be with us when we get to Las Vegas. It’s Sunday afternoon, and the traffic is solid in both lanes on our side of the highway. And it’s the same on the other side for traffic heading back to Los Angeles.

This is the first stretch of the most ambitious of our motoring trips. The idea is to drive inland from Los Angeles through Nevada, a corner of Utah and a corner of Colorado to Santa Fe in New Mexico, and then return by a southerly route through Albuquerque, Flagstaff and Phoenix. We arrived in Los Angeles late on Friday night, and did very little on our first full day, except relax by the hotel pool and book the hire car, a compact Ford SUV.

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