In which I didn't write about Argentina at ALL

OMGYOUGUYS. It has been a successful Sunday. We got to sleep in (which for us was a delightful 8a.m.), lounge around with coffees and papers until hunger drove us to breakfast at ten, and then did work in the garden and general household domesticities before taking a walk in Victoria Park Village while the slow cooker worked on a chili for us. When this post is done, the fire's getting lit, a glass of red (water, Grampa, red water) is getting poured, and we'll relax in the warm home comforts of a London evening in blustery November.

I intended to tell the story of our adventures in Salta and Beyond today, but the flow is missing and all of my sentences are like 'And then we did this, and then this, and then this happened, and that is the end.' Which - as you may guess - makes for a poorly written tale. Tone - at least for me, and I admit to special challenges - is sometimes a fleeting thing, and I can't say the recovery of it appears within my grasp today. Those of you who actually write-write, what do you do when this happens? (Does it happen to you?)

For now, I leave you with the first photo of the Road Trip, because it not only shows how things began, but also reflects my current mind-state:

Subtle metaphors aren't my strong suit.

All my best to you, and here's hoping my brain is back on track tomorrow! 

Big hugs and lots of love,

Esss