Buenos Aires, the Fourteenth of July, 1937
(my fifth week here!)

My Dearest Milonguero Friend,

Yesterday, while riding a ‘colectivo’ to a milonga, I have been allowed the quickest peek at a romantic novel which thoroughly preoccupies my friend Alice :

‘Tall, dark and with shoes to die for, he strode across the room, his left foot glistening in the light. He stopped at my table, looked at me with passion, looked down at his shoes with even more passion, and then whispered ‘dance with me, like cats eyes dance in the night’. I nodded, unable to speak. So, he led me to the dance floor whispering: ‘I am the one they call Rodriguez…… Some of my friends call me Rod’. I smiled, still unable to utter a word. We danced, I smiled, he whispered. When the tanda was over, he led me back to my seat and whispered (he did that a lot) ‘I thank you my muted jelly tot. I will come back for you, and I will wear only the shiniest of shoes, until that day comes.’ And then he was gone.’

While it all seemed like poppycock and twaddle to me, I realised that a little charm can go a long way. In Buenos Aires, milongueros are quite high principled about greeting ladies at their table at the beginning of each tanda and never fail to walk them back after the last dance.

Once back in The Smoke, I ought to try this ‘charm’ tactic. What with my shiniest shoes and a name like ‘Rod’, that ought to make me a real smoothie with the ladies.

I shall write again next week. Toodles!

Arthur