Glen Rose, TX

As always, today’s road-trip didn’t turn out quite as expected.

I’d heard on the local TV station about a restaurant in Glen Rose, TX, called “Two Grannies Down Home Cookin’” that was literally opened and run by two grannies who decided that the traditional “family round the table” meal was dying out, and they were going to remedy the situation. Everybody at the restaurant gets good home-style food, and a hug from one of the grannies. So that’s where I set off today. About 80 miles south-west of the hotel, a sunny day after a week of rain, the top down because the temperature is reasonable, and all is well with the world.

I spent breakfast looking at the map, so that I could travel by some back roads, and see more than the highways have to offer. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), what they have to offer is distraction. In particular, this was the “Montgomery Street ANTIQUE MALL” – “Fort Worth’s Largest!”, “240 Quality Shops”, “Secret Garden Restaurant”. They were not wrong. This has to be the best “antique mall” I have ever visited. Definitely no rubbish. They even gave customers a glass of wine on entering (which is obviously a good marketing ploy, though it didn’t work on me because I’d already done all my shopping before I discovered it!). One stall had 50 or more already restored fountain pens (sorry, Gerry, I would have called, but it would have taken forever to go through them), another had antique medical equipment (ditto Tim and Lucy). And before you ask, of course I bought some stuff. I was actually there for two and a half hours.

The result of the distraction was that I didn’t reach Glen Rose until just before 2pm. The two grannies, according to some people sitting outside, had just closed because they had run out of food. Apparently they have been swamped ever since the TV exposure. They were going to re-open at 5pm. So I went to another local café to get a snack – I ordered a toasted cheese sandwich, so as not to spoil my appetite. The waitress arrived with a Philly cheese steak sandwich (or as close as they can get to it in Texas). Brits are condemned forever to apologize for other people’s mistakes (it’s just our culture), so I said I’d eat it anyway. Didn’t taste much like the real thing, but it did fill me up, so I decided to spend a little time wandering around, then try the “Two Grannies” again next weekend, but get there earlier!

As it happens, Glen Rose is the site of a lot of dinosaur footprints and fossils. I went into the local museum, run entirely by volunteers. I was the first visitor of the day. The lady on duty told me that the museum was badly neglected, and the leaky roof dripped water on what she considered some “priceless” items – like a dentist’s chair from the 1800’s. She even disappeared out the back to show me the contents of a shoe box that wasn’t even on display, containing the wedding shoes, earrings (from Paris) and matching tiara, complete with a lock of the bride’s hair, from a wedding about 1900. She felt passionately about getting the museum sorted out (and rightly so), and I signed the visitor’s book and donated $5. I hope she succeeds.

I know I’ve said this before, but the same thing is happening to rural America (they’d call it “small town America”) as is happening to rural England. Neglect.

It took me a while to get back to the hotel, because I kept seeing signs to places that sounded fascinating to go to on the way – Alvarado, Nemo (yes, Amy, your friend Nemo has his own zip code in Texas – although in truth Nemo is only a couple of houses and a Post Office!). Why is it that American names have a lyrical quality that we lack: “24 hours from Aylesbury”, apart from not scanning very well, doesn’t sound nearly as romantic as “24 hours from Tulsa”? Although there is a line in a Dire Straits song: “From Cullercoats to Whitley Bay”. Not sure about Whitley Bay, but Cullercoats meets the “lyrical” criterion for me.

I hit Route 67 – the Chisholm Way – again. Although I didn’t really have a clue where I was going, American highways have an interesting feature: odd-numbered ones are north-south, and even-numbered ones are east-west. Whoever came up with this was definitely firing on all cylinders. This doesn’t help much unless you know (which I think most people don’t) – but I do, and now you do, too. It’s silly little things like this that can save your life on occasion.

So the two grannies will have to wait until next week, but I’ll be sure to get a picture.