Mannerisms

 Straight out to dinner at Chops which is buzzing, where I ask an apparition of Georgian gorgeousness behind the welcome desk if she could take in a pair of hungry travelers.

"Arrrr Shurrrre-ly Cain" the apparition replies in scrotum-tinglingly treacly tones.

The Statesboro Inn is an old wooden house with wide verandahs under Corinthian columns. After breakfast I sit out on the verandah in an old wooden rocking chair and imagine myself a Southern gentleman greeting the passers-by.

'Morning Miz Scarlett'

'Hi Rhett,'

'Farn mornin'

And a fine morning it is as we take the back roads through the unfenced, wooded Georgian countryside down to the mossy oaks which canopy the streets and squares of Savannah and to the wide horizons of the marshlands leading to Tybee Island.

Lunch at the Crab Shack 'Where the Elite Eat in their Bare Feet', apero at AJ's on the Back River fishing pier, dinner at Hunter House and multiple digestifs at Doc's Bar where the 100 year-old Miz Sylvia accompanies, on the maracas, the guitarist/singer and the harmonica player as we dance, drink, chat and laugh the night away.

Good old Georgia