Travel complications persist

In 1785 Robert Burns wrote a poem to a mouse, the last-but-one verse of which reads:

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy!

So it sometimes seems with my recent post history since, yet again, I find myself away from home without the resources that I need to complete this week's posts. Since they have largely been prepared I crave, again, your indulgence with the intent that they should appear within the next few days. My apologies. The rest will follow.