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Wet windy weather today.
Leftover roast beef for dinner.
You'd think that this month, at least, I would have a more exciting life, it being my birthday month 'n' all!
P.S. For those wondering why my dinner so often begins with the word "leftover", this is because the friend whose dogs I walk is a good cook in all things except measuring portions. He used to give the leftovers to his housekeeper, but she is on a diet. So I often turn up and find he has a plastic box full of whatever he had for dinner the previous night waiting for me because he cooked too much. He is a better cook than me, so his leftovers are better than my "fresh" cooking. Plus he tends to buy better food than me (only time I have ever eaten pheasant, for example, was when he cooked a brace of them and had half a bird left over). So I take his leftovers. I ain't proud.
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