Dice being thrown a lot

Off to my Monday morning torture session gym workout. The new young chap took me through my paces - I use the term loosely - he was kind and seemed quite concerned by my groans, moans and cries of (usually mock) pain, so he didn’t keep turning up the levels. But every now and then, Kate would come over and turn up the main knob. He has to learn to be more ruthless, sadly.

JR set off into town for a coffee with an ex-colleague, and so Archie was left with his frozen peanut butter-stuffed bone, which he was still obsessed with when I came home, a couple of hours later.

We got a wee bit Christmassy in the afternoon, getting a few parcels wrapped, then JR took Archie out round the Meadows - I pleaded over-exhaustion from this morning. It worked. Here Archie is admiring the view of the castle in the last of the evening sunshine (about 3.30pm).

If I’ve heard ‘the last throw of the dice...’ once today, I’ve heard it a dozen times! Brexit negotiations end game...

Photo by my assistant