The highlights are a small chapel, which plays a tribute to gospel music, both black and white, and a theatre which shows a concert (from the 80s, if the fact that the backing musicians have all got their jacket sleeves rolled up is anything to go by) featuring James Brown, Bo Diddley, BB King, Little Richard, Ray Charles, Jerry Lee Lewis and Fats Domino, ending with them all on stage at once.

Macon is a music legend, mentioned in many songs. It has a particularly strong link with the Allman Brothers, who did most of their recording here and who, in the case of two of them, died here in motor cycle accidents. The music memorabilia books insist on a visit to the H&H restaurant, much beloved of the group and, as I skipped breakfast, off I go. An unassuming little place, with brick walls, lino on the floor and plastic tablecloths, and a simple menu – four meats, pick one; seven vegetables, pick three; iced tea or lemonade, both home made, and off you go. I go for pork chops, with rice and gravy, okra with tomatoes, and collards.

The latter is a kind of chopped cabbage and, like the rest of the meal, is excellent. There is a grave danger that I might begin to like iced tea.

Loins suitably girded, I return to the Georgia Sports Hall of Fame, next door to its musical equivalent. Another excellent institution, which supports what I have said before about American treatment of sporting heroes. After last night's request for ID, I am delighted to find that the fact that I am over 55 means I am a senior, which qualifies me for a discount in some hotels and both of today's museums.

The music books show me that, between the museum and the motel stands Rose Hill Cemetery, resting place of the two deceased Allman Brothers, so I pay a visit, and discover it is also the resting place of a couple of hundred confederate soldiers, in a mass war grave. The Allmans' grave is simple and well cared for, unlike others of its kind elsewhere in the world.

At the motel the internet connection is not working; this makes me feel strangely cut off from home, and the day before my 28th wedding anniversary too. So I dine at the Red Lobster, and return to my room to write.

As I do so, my TV suddenly goes quiet, and broadcasts a severe thunderstorm warning for this area for the next 45 minutes, so I'd best just go and put my head under the bed.