Going home

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.

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