People eat cake and the RORO heads for the Isle of Man. The sun shines. Sainsburys sells food and I haven't done much of the Guardian cryptic. 

Have explained to the dog, for the third day in a row, that the large box in the utility room that he's barking at contains bottles of beer, not dog biscuits.

So far, this year, its one all for Scrabble. In the autumn, G started to concentrate and develop strategies; he's no longer a walk over. Not that I'm competitive, apart from being competitive about being uncompetitive.