Go with the flow.

Life can lead you to some unexpected destinations - if you let it.

We returned to the Huntingdon museum this morning. There are two large barns stuffed with stuff, and we both had the feeling that we hadn't sucked this particular bone dry yet. As it happens we were right.

A small framed display tucked away high in a corner caught Diane's eye.  There were arrowheads, collected by some chap over a number of years. What we found remarkable was the close similarity to stone age arrow heads found in Britain, over the other side of the Atlantic. Now these peoples I presume had never met, yet the shape of these little works of art were almost identical.

We were introduced to one of the founders of the museum, a gently spoken but obvious dynamo of a woman called Barb. In conversation we mentioned the similarity of these arrow heads to stone age finds in Britain and the fact that they might be thousands of years old. Curiously this didn't seem to interest her at all, and she told us of an archeological dig that had found the first fort built by the settlers.

American history is rich, interesting and varied, but we came away with the impression that it only started three hundred years ago…

So next we set off to discover more about the indigenous population. And where better than the Indian Caverns half an hours drive away? Well anywhere in fact. One drawback of a vehicle 35 feet long and 11 feet 6 inches high is that it is difficult to drive under 8 foot bridges. No matter what direction we approached this location we could not pass.

So off the the Big Valley where the Amish live. And what a beautiful rolling fertile valley it is to drive down. We were even happy to be held up by a horse drawn buggy.

Stopping at Ye Old Dog House for a snack, we sat outside for a Hoagie and coffee, and were soon joined by a group of Amish, happily demolishing huge ice cream cones. They chatted to each other in a language we couldn't place, (Dutch seemed closest,) but when talking to us they had the usual American accent. We learnt that an auction that was about to start not more than a couple of miles down the road, and the auctioneer was Amish. We needed no encouragement.

After a mooch around the lots for sale, and after our ears had tuned in to the auctioneer, we decided that auctions are the same the world over - lots of tat with a few hidden gems. One thing is very different from the UK though. As we left we heard the announcement that the sale of the firearms was about to begin.

So we trundled slowly back to Ye Old Dog House car park for the night, stopping at a bank to use the ATM.

There I discovered I'd lost my credit card.