Monty and the pink tulips

I was about to post a pathetic distant-sheep-in-a-field-in-the-rain-taken-from-the-car shot, because it was all I had, when Monty came to ask me to fill his dish see what I was doing.

We struck a deal: he would pose nicely with his eyes open if I agreed to feed him. He flatly refused to pretend to sniff the tulips. I conceded.

Apart from going over to Balfron to get my hair cut, pick up my mail and find a better deal on my soon-to-expire car insurance (by phone), it has been a(nother) day for staying in.