Blustery

We're having a blustery day today, one worthy of Winnie-the-Pooh. The wind and rain are howling against our building and I've decided to pretty much stay in all day, because this just isn't walking-about weather. Hopefully our house won't blow down like Owl's.

I went walking yesterday up to Kensal Rise, north of where we live, and then east to Kilburn and down through Maida Vale to get back home. It was a nice long walk and the weather mostly cooperated -- I had good light for photography until I got within about 20 minutes of home, when it began raining. Dave got home from work at about the same time I got back, so we settled in together with our evening gin & tonics and talked about our days. (Other than walking, mine consisted mostly of reading and housework. Ah, the life of a house-husband!)

I gave up on the dog book I mentioned yesterday. It's a very rare thing for me to quit a book -- I usually press on to the end of virtually everything I start, on the theory that it could at any point suddenly get better. But I couldn't hack this one. Ugh.

Oh, and I learned on TV last night that Freddie Mercury would have turned 65 yesterday, had he not died of AIDS in 1991. Hard to imagine Freddie a senior citizen. I also learned to my surprise that he was born Farokh Bulsara, and grew up in India. I have some Queen on my iPod ("Bohemian Rhapsody" and "Killer Queen," probably their two most popular songs) but I was never a huge fan, so I somehow missed hearing about his ancestry. Fascinating.

(Photo: Ladbroke Grove, yesterday.)