In the interests of maintaining the hallowed traditions of the SS&E, your wayward fellow retroactively reports of his recent visit to the charming, rustic, and most historickal realm of Slovenia.
As each and one of us certainly knows, once in a while one hits a blue note, a brown study, and any number of other curiously colored abstractions; to put it shortly, one realizes that one's stay in one place has exceeded all reasonable expectations, one requires the fresh breeze of the far oceans, the gentle zephyrs of unseen mountains, one must stir from one's stagnation, air one's hide, shake off the gathered dust in order to acquire renewed appreciation of one's surroundings.
Often this may be the case even without the unwelcome attentions of the various leech and pest nattering of the trifling expenses one has incurred and whose expunction one has sensibly postponed to relieve the poor noggin of undue stress.
Thus it happens that yours truly arose one fine morning, and, after Jeeves' blessed pick-me-up'er, decided that the far reaches of Slovenia were where one would feel at peace of mind. I bade J pack up the old portmanteau, trusted myself to the care of the local expeditory service, and proceeded to stave off the pursuing melancholies with remedial g&t therapy.
Now, Slovenia is one of those places where, no doubt, Odysseys flitted with his fleet feet to get away from it all, Aristoteles retreated to from his poison-supping proclivities, and any number of huns, nuns, and barbarians passed through on their way from A to B. It is one of those places a bit to the side of all the hectic activities of war, peace, and whatnot. It fairly exudes the aroma of historickal retreatfulness. This is noted by many, and they proceed to follow tradition, and to occupy one's intended lodging. Yours truly was flabbergasted to learn that one's prime spots were all taken, veritably packed like tins of herrings, some of the unfortunate ones brimming over and falling out of the windows. Trusty J did manage to secure accommodation in some seedy hovel on the edges of Ljubljana, but this was decidedly not the grand entré, the majestick hawk-like descent onto the unsuspecting society, one might have intended.
Still, one must take these things as they come. Compensating any hardships, all this Presence by the Masses was greeted by the locals with merriment and festivity; streets were filled with bands on stands, performing local and exotick song and dance, beer flowed freely, the heart-warming chatter of the multitudes lounging about on warm summer evenings along canal and cafe assaulted the ear like the surf of the sea (when said does this in the pleasant, mostly swooshing way, not the pounding surf of doom variety). The old section of Ljubljana is endearingly cobbly and somewhat wobbly, the old buildings secrete puddles of hospitable charm, and the castle mount commands with dominating presence the riverside establishments and venues. Most rues of the unfortunate arrival were absolutely wiped away.
(Your reportatory narrator finds it necessary to fade out for the while. I shall fade like the wind, but will present for your enjoyment a picture J scratched up while YT was enjoying the more cultural aspects of the night life. J says he was considered quite the little artist in his youthful years, dabbing pigment here and there to considerable adoration of the teacher-kind.)
