Me: Look at my darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy. Isn’t he adorable?

Nell: David is simply eating a carrot.

Me: Yes, but look at the way he’s holding it in his little paws.

Nell: David doesn’t have little paws.

Me: They’re much smaller than a tiger’s, or a lion’s.

Nell: Of course they are. David is a pedigree Labrador not a Giant Cat.

Me: And he’s a very good boy making sure he has his five a day.

Nell: Five a day?

Me: Fruit and vegetables. We all need to eat at least five a day.

Nell: The rate David is eating it will be five an hour.

Me: I know. Bless him.

Nell: Talking of lions.

Me: Were we?

Nell: Yes. Have you seen Lionel King recently?

Me: Mrs King said he came to take Roary over to Burgh Island at the weekend.

Nell: Does he still have his boat?

Me: He must do, unless they took the sea tractor, although I’m not sure it takes lions. Or they could have walked there, I suppose, if the tide was out.

Nell: Have you quite finished? You do ramble on.

Me: Anyway, they spent a pleasant day together.

Nell: I’m glad. What about Rupert?

Me: He’s in Canada, Nell. He can’t go to Burgh Island at the moment.

Nell: I know. I just wondered if you’d heard from him.

Me: Somebody said they thought he’d be back for Halloween.

Nell: Somebody?

Me: It must have been Myfanwy at Sunday Songs.

Nell: So, they’re in touch?

Me: Only by iBone. He’s in Canada, Nell.

Nell: Very funny.

Me: I try.

Nell: You look tired.

Me: The earache is back.

Nell: No swimming today.

Me: I know. Charlotte and Kev already told me.

Nell: And I’m telling you, too.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: Nigel looks happy.

Me: We all are. It’s Sunday, Charlotte is feeling a lot better and the sun is shining.

Nell: Good to hear.

Me: Nigel also had a boiled egg and toast before Sunday Songs and he knows there will be roast beef for lunch.

Nell: With Yorkshire puddings and lots of gravy?

Me: Yes. Large ones.

Nell: Large ones?

Me: We thought we’d give it a try.

Nell: Give it a try?

Me: We can cut them up.

Nell: Poppy’s not going to believe this. Yorkshire puddings are meant to be small with a crispy exterior and a light, soft centre.

Me: They don’t have to be small.

Nell: They do.

Me: Large ones used to be eaten at the start of a meal with onion gravy so there wouldn’t be a need for too much roast beef later.

Nell: There’s always a need for roast beef.

Me: It’s very expensive, Nell.

Nell: Did you say ‘onion gravy’?

Me: Yes.

Nell: I’ve heard it all now. Dogs cannot eat onions.

Me: Don’t worry. We’re having proper gravy.

Nell: Nigel won’t be smiling if all he’s getting is a dry Yorkshire pudding.

Me: He probably would be smiling. You labs will eat anything.

Nell: I beg your pardon? We aren’t all like David. I have an extremely sophisticated palate.

Me: Do you?

Nell: Yes. I’ve been watching Saturday Kitchen for years.

Me: Anyway, it’s a moot point because everyone is having roast beef with lots of fresh vegetables and gravy and not an onion in sight, although I do enjoy a roasted onion.

Nell: And giant Yorkshire puddings.

Me: I actually prefer the small ones.

Nell: I give up.

Me: Just saying.

Nell: I’m not talking to you about Yorkshire puddings, or onions, anymore. It’s exhausting.

Me: Sorry.

Nell: What’s Nigel doing?

Me: He’s insisting Kev strokes him. All the time.

Nell: That’s a little forward of him.

Me: He likes attention.

Nell: Did he have his nails clipped?

Me: Yes, and he was quite a good boy.

Nell: Quite?

Me: There might have been some Unnecessary Barking in the waiting room.

Nell: Unnecessary Barking is rude.

Me: I tell Dave and Harriet that all the time.

Nell: David and Harriet only engage in Necessary Barking.

Me: They do not. They’re constantly barking at delivery people.

Nell: Delivery people must be made aware that dogs live in the house and occupants of said house must be made aware that a delivery has arrived.

Me: By barking?

Nell: Yes.

Me: It drives me mad.

Nell: You need to listen more.

Me: Sometimes I think they’d bark at a leaf falling.

Nell: Now that would be Unnecessary Barking.

Me: Anyway, there’s too much of it.

Nell: Did Nigel and Kev go to the pub for a pint?

Me: Yes. Kev wasn’t sure he wanted to go but Nigel insisted.

Nell: Nigel’s doing a lot of insisting at the moment.

Me: He’s had a rough time.

Nell: I’m not sure Having a Rough Time excuses telling everyone what to do.

Me: You do.

Nell: You love it.

Me: I do.

Nell: Why are you making that face?

Me: I’ve got awful earache, Nell.

Nell: Is this a joke?

Me: No, I’m serious.

Nell: You’re not going to tell me it was brought on by Unnecessary Barking?

Me: No, it started in the night. Nobody was barking then.

Nell: Have you taken something?

Me: Yes, but it still hurts.

Nell: Go and get a hot water bottle right now and place it over your ear. Must I tell you everything?

Me: Sorry.

Me: Cheeky Animal.

Nell: You caught Harriet.

Me: I’m getting better at it.

Nell: You look tired this morning.

Me: I had my flu jab yesterday so I didn’t sleep very well.

Nell: Never mind. You’ll sleep tonight and it’s good that you’re vaccinated now.

Me: It is. Flu is nasty. Especially for us oldies.

Nell: Less of the old, please.

Me: I’m feeling a bit old.

Nell: Nothing a nice cup of Earl Grey and a slice of hot buttered toast won’t fix. Talking of food, how was your Spaghetti Carbonara? I forgot to ask.

Me: Delicious, but we had to ask for more like Oliver Twist as there wasn’t enough.

Nell: From Stanley?

Me: No. Malcolm and Manuel made a Seafood Linguine.

Nell: Malcolm’s excellent at shelling prawns.

Me: Yes, and the shells are good for his feathers. It’s important for a flamingo to maintain its pinkness.

Nell: True.

Me: Imagine if we all turned the colour of the food we ate.

Nell: Don’t be silly. You’d be changing colour every few minutes.

Me: I would.

Nell: So, what are your plans for the weekend?

Me: Charlotte and Nigel are visiting us.

Nell: Good. How is she?

Me: Very tired but doing better. Thank goodness.

Nell: Nigel will be relieved.

Me: Yes. Kev’s taking him to the vet’s this afternoon to have his toenails clipped.

Nell: Does he mind?

Me: No. Kev’s happy to take Nigel anywhere.

Nell: I meant Nigel. Not every animal likes people messing with their paws.

Me: You didn’t.

Nell: Exactly.

Me: I’m sure Nigel will be fine. He can have an extra portion of Lasagne for his tea.

Nell: You’re not eating pasta again, are you?

Me: You said pasta is perfect for this time of year.

Nell: Not every day.

Me: Sorry.

Me: Dave’s been behaving oddly recently.

Nell: Too much pasta?

Me: No, it isn’t anything he’s eaten. We even took him to the vets.

Nell: Why did you do that?

Me: Because he wasn’t himself, Nell. We wanted to make sure there was nothing wrong.

Nell: And is there?

Me: No. He still weighs 50 kilos. His bloods are fine and all his bits and bobs are in perfect working order.

Nell: I didn’t need to know that.

Me: It’s a great relief.

Nell: Is it?

Me: Yes. He was very well-behaved during all the examinations and accepted small treats gratefully.

Nell: Of course.

Me: Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.

Nell: So what’s wrong?

Me: We thinks it’s the young deer. He can smell them on his walk.

Nell: Oh, I see.

Me: He was on the search again yesterday, and so was Harriet, but it doesn’t bother her as much.

Nell: You know it probably wasn’t the deer at all.

Me: Why?

Nell: It’s far more likely to be a lady dog on heat. There are so many dogs in your village and lots of them go on your walk.

Me: You’re right.

Nell: And David is like this every year.

Me: Is he?

Nell: Yes. Several times a year, in fact. And you always forget.

Me: I do, don’t I? Deer, oh deer.

Nell: Good grief.

Me: See what I did there?

Nell: Yes, very droll.

Me: At least he’s had a full MOT and we know he’s absolutely fine.

Nell: The poor animal has been poked and prodded and you say he’s fine.

Me: He didn’t mind at all.

Nell: He was publicly weighed and his weight was discussed openly.

Me: I know.

Nell: Would you like that?

Me: No.

Nell: I rest my case.

Me: Sorry.

Nell: Is David watching the Bus Stop?

Me: Yes. Rumour has it that a Tupperware of Spaghetti Carbonara might be on its way.

Nell: Is Carbonara made with bacon?

Me: Yes, with guanciale, parmesan and eggs but no cream according to the Italians.

Nell: Guanciale?

Me: Salt-cured meat.

Nell: Bacon.

Me: Sort of.

Nell: Poppy makes hers with pancetta and pecorino.

Me: If you know what Spaghetti Carbonara is, why did you ask?

Nell: Recipes vary a great deal and Poppy’s bound to ask me what you’re eating today.

Me: I hope there’s enough spaghetti to go around.

Nell: There won’t be if David gets there first.

Me: Maybe I should go over to the Bus Stop with him?

Nell: Maybe you should. The Weather Guardians say temperatures are dropping soon so pasta is just the thing.

Me: There’s something rather lovely about Autumn.

Nell: Is there?

Me: Eating bowls of pasta and snuggling up in your favourite blanket with a dog and a book in front of an open fire is perfectly acceptable.

Nell: It’s always acceptable. Talking of blankets, is Rupert still in Canada?

Me: Yes, Knitwear Wolf spent Canadian Thanksgiving with his wolf family.

Nell: I hope he doesn’t decide to stay there.

Me: I don’t think he will.

Nell: What if Mark Carney needs him?

Me: We all need him, Nell. He’s family.

Nell: I’ll be glad when he’s back.

Me: So will we.

Nell: How’s your sister Charlotte?

Me: She’s doing a little better. Thank goodness. It’s been such a worrying time.

Nell: All the more reason to rest and recuperate.

Me: I think I can see Stanley Smoochy walking towards the Bus Stop with a Tupperware container.

Nell: Then stop talking to me and go and get it before David does.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Can you see them?

Nell: David and Harriet? Yes, of course I can see them. They’re in the stream.

Me: No, the Cow Spies.

Nell: Cow Spies?

Me: One of them isn’t doing a very good job. She’s blatantly spying from the middle of a field.

Nell: Are you absolutely sure the cows are spying?

Me: Look at them all hiding in the bushes. It’s obvious.

Nell: Isn’t spying supposed to not be obvious?

Me: Only to the untrained eye.

Nell: And you think you have a trained eye?

Me: Yes. I spotted them immediately.

Nell: Is it possible they were just enjoying a little shade?

Me: No. When we lived in Oxfordshire I didn’t trust the horses but down here in Devon it’s the cows.

Nell: I know I’ve told you this before, but sometimes you have far too much imagination for your own good.

Me: I’m not imagining anything. It’s true.

Nell: Moving on, did Alice have a good birthday?

Me: She did. I had a lovely time in the evening texting with Alice and Andre and Chris and Shannon trying to think of names for the baby.

Nell: What was your suggestion?

Me: Bear.

Nell: Bear?

Me: Why not? Do you think the cows might be in league with the Beefies?

Nell: I think they might just be cows wondering what all the kerfuffle is about?

Me: What kerfuffle?

Nell: Scuffing leaves can make quite a noise.

Me: How did you know I was scuffing leaves?

Nell: It’s autumn and it’s what you always do at this time of year. It brings back memories of being a child and scuffing leaves with your mother and sisters.

Me: You’re right.

Nell: I listen to you when you tell me things and I remember. Everything.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: That’s me with Alice.

Me: I know. I love that photo of you both.

Nell: So do I. This is a special day for you, isn’t it?

Me: Yes. At 7:14am 42 years ago in a big, scary hospital in West Berlin I welcomed my first born into the world. My wonderful daughter Alice.

Nell: A life-changing moment.

Me: Yes. I remember staring down at her little face hardly able to believe she was mine. She was the most perfect thing I had ever seen.

Nell: I can imagine.

Me: Before I forget, it’s also Thanksgiving Day in Canada so Happy Thanksgiving to all my Canadian family and friends .

Nell: And the same from me. I’ve written Alice a poem. Would you like to hear it?

Me: Very much.

Nell: ‘I’ll say it right now,

As I know you will, too.

How can Alice

Be forty-two?

Not only that,

But goodness me,

Next year she’s expecting

Baby number three.

Exciting times are ahead

Full of happiness and joy

As soon we will welcome

Another wonderful boy.

A little brother for Faye

And Jonathan Sky.

Granny’s so happy 

She’s started to cry.

Stop that right now. 

It’s Alice’s birthday. 

And she must be celebrated

In every possible way.

With cake and candles,

And party hats,

And lots of dogs,

And definitely no cats.’

‘But Alice loves cats.

They have to be there.’

‘Fine, only a few.

Now, pull up a chair.

It’s time to sing

In a loud sort of way, 

Happy Birthday dear Alice

Have a wonderful day.’

Me: She’s going to love it. Thank you.

Nell: My pleasure. I know you miss her very much and wish you were there.

Me: I do. I hope she knows how much she is loved.

Nell: She knows.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: Nigel looks deep in thought.

Me: The responsibility of caring for someone you love who is unwell is a heavy one.

Nell: How is Charlotte?

Me: Extremely tired, of course, but insisting on going home later.

Nell: Oh dear.

Me: I’d rather keep her here longer.

Nell: Hopefully she will take it easy.

Me: I’ve told her to. Whether she listens is another matter.

Nell: Maybe Sunday Songs will help? Singing is good for the soul.

Me: Do you have Sunday Songs up there?

Nell: Of course. Poppy insists on singing sea shanties more often than I’d like but it’s still enjoyable.

Me: I like to think of all you Guardians singing away.

Nell: Will the llamas be dancing?

Me: Yes, on roller skates.

Nell: Good grief. Did Nigel go to the pub with Kev?

Me: He did. It’s their special time together.

Nell: Was that aggressive pug around?

Me: No. Thank goodness. Talking of pugs, can you Guardians fly?

Nell: I beg your pardon.

Me: Do your wings work?

Nell: What are you talking about?

Me: Don’t you have wings?

Nell: I’m a Labrador, not a flamingo.

Me: Don’t worry. Nobody could ever confuse you with a flamingo, Nell.

Nell: Well, stop all this wings nonsense, please.

Me: Do you remember the flamingo who flew to France around this time last year? It was called Frankie, wasn’t it?

Nell: Yes. Can we get back to today? Make sure Charlotte and Nigel don’t leave until they’ve eaten a good Sunday roast.

Me: I will.

Nell: Roast beef, roast potatoes, carrots and parsnips, fresh vegetables and Yorkshire puddings with lots of gravy should do the trick.

Me: Herr Hoffmann is peeling potatoes as we speak.

Nell: And no horseradish.

Me: But Charlotte loves it.

Nell: Not anymore.

Me: No. Sorry.

Nell: I’m glad to see Nigel is with you.

Me: Yes. He’s had a difficult week caring for Charlotte so I think he’s relieved to be here. Poor chap.

Nell: What is David doing?

Me: He’s catching up on The Great British Bake Off. He missed it last week.

Nell: Nigel still looks worried.

Me: He is.

Nell: How is Charlotte?

Me: She’s completely exhausted but doing a little better.

Nell: That’s very good to hear. Do we know any more about what happened?

Me: We do and it’s actually good news. The doctors now think the chest pains are oesophageal spasms which feel like a heart attack.

Nell: So, it isn’t her heart?

Me: No, but it’s very painful. She has to take morphine to cope with it.

Nell: No wonder she’s tired.

Me: Yes, but I’m so relieved it isn’t her heart. There was a time when I really thought I was going to lose her.

Nell: I know.

Me: She has to be very careful what she eats and drinks as it’s easily exacerbated by certain foods.

Nell: Plain food is probably best.

Me: Yes, we’re having chicken and rice today.

Nell: A sensible decision. Have you seen her this morning?

Me: No. She’s still sleeping.

Nell: Why are you up early again? It’s Saturday.

Me: I’m too wound up to sleep, Nell. I think my pocketful of happiness is that it’s not Charlotte’s heart.

Nell: I think you’re right. Did the Welsh Corgi Choir sing?

Me: Yes, they did. Just a gentle lullaby to help her sleep.

Nell: Which one?

Me: ‘Too‐Ra‐Loo‐Ra‐Loo‐Ral’. It’s an Irish lullaby our mother used to sing to us.

Nell: And Bing Crosby.

Me: No, just our mother. Bing Crosby’s a film star.

Nell: Who sang it.

Me: Oh, I see. Sorry.