There’s no doubt I am a beach bum and a slob. I neglect my normal toilet regime, smoke and drink like an old lush journalist and let the dog lick my face after eating.
As my stomach lurched and I queasily smiled and joked and joined in, the blood pooling on the table kept distracting me.
OR, LITERALLY WERE CUT OFF. THE ROAD WAS CLOSED AND I OFFICIALLY WAS ON A DESERT ISLAND
You know it’s been raining here more or less non stop? Well now, the day I was supposed to leave, there is a massive storm. I was woken in the night by explosive bangs and flashes and the sound of torrential rain. I went to my door and the display was awe inspiring. I managed a video but really wasn’t concerned about leaving in the morning, surely this Biblical deluge would be spent by eight when my collectivo would pick me up. As I sit here still in my Punta Allen hotel room, with explosives bangs every five seconds or so, I realised that, as usual, I was overly optimistic.
The wind has also picked up now as well as rumbling. Hurricane coming?
OR, THIS IS REALLY HARD MY HOLIDAY ROMANCE WITH SWIMMING DOG IS OVER.
Alert: Nostalgia and cry baby form most of this post. If you can’t be arsed with a grown woman and a tough old cookie at that, boohooing over a dog just look at the pics!!
My dear old birds this is why you keep moving, because if you stay a while anywhere, you form attachments. I am so down it’s beyond belief. The weather isn’t helping nor are the dogs, especially Alkida, who is blissfully unaware of my departure. I’m down, really down. It’s ridiculous I can’t stop crying. Punta Allen has been a huge learning curve and these hounds have been my best friends (apart from Sonia of course).
OR OUR BOY BRUTUS “FAT GIT” THE BULLDOG, IS VERY SICK GIVE HIM POSITIVE VIBES PLEASE