Driving into Springfield. It’s late, already dark. Stopping at a Diner to ask directions, but still we can’t find the Motel we thought we’d stay at. We’re tired, hungry, irritable. We end up by the railroad, alongside the marshaling yards. Think that maybe we should try the Capitol City a motel we’d passed on the way into town.

We park, go to the office, see a hand written notice propped on the screen door frame No Vacancies. There’s nobody in the office and the door is locked but Denis raps on the window and a woman answers. She inspects us, says in response to our question, ‘Yes, you’re lucky,one room left. $50.00
Maybe we could argue, but we say, ‘Yes, ok.’

We stand at the counter talking while the registration form is completed. She wants to know which country we’re from and we say England. She smiles, says her brother and his family have been living in Leicester since 1998, and that they’re very happy. She doesn’t say how long it is since she left Gujarat, or how long she has been in Springfield running this motel. She hands over the key. We ask her about coffee.

‘No coffee. It’s a simple room.’

Wednesday
7th. September
Springfield