Nell: Keep your eyes on the road, please.
Me: I am.
Nell: James will wait for us to catch up if we lose him, so no need to speed.
Me: I’m not, Nell. Especially on these tiny lanes.
Nell: I did enjoy our walk across the fields yesterday.
Me: Yes.
Nell: Harriet was an excellent leader.
Me: She was.
Nell: That sheep was a bit rude though.
Me: Was it?
Nell: They can be very mouthy. Bla bla bla. I told it to be quiet and behave.
Me: Did it listen?
Nell: No.
Me: So it was just sheep and nasty.
Nell: Good grief.
Me: They come in all sheeps and sizes.
Nell: Do stop.
Me: I’ll quit wool I’m ahead.
Nell: Enough. Slow down and mind that tractor. You are worse than Jeremy Barkson.
Me: You mean Clarkson.
Nell: I do not. I mean that opinionated Bloodhound Jeremy Barkson. He does some kind of driving programme with a scruffy Border Terrier and a feisty little Yorkie.
Me: Not my kind of thing.
Nell: Mutley and David love it.
Nell: I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.
Me: Me too.
Nell: Poppy is going to cook us a cottage pie for tea. Warm and comforting.
Me: Lovely. We can watch tv and eat it on our laps.
Nell: We might just do that.
Me: With a spoon.
Nell: No. That is taking it too far. You are not a child. Although I wonder sometimes.
Me: Yes, sorry.
