Me: Well, I think you all look wonderful. Thank you for showing me your hats.
Nell: We were supposed to be wearing fruit.
Me: Like Carmen Miranda?
Nell: Carmen Miranda is a curly haired collie from Coventry. What’s she got to do with it?
Me: Never mind. What happened to the fruit?
Nell: David ate it. The Cat was remarkably calm considering and told him to fetch his dressing up box.
Me: Lucky that Dave likes hats.
Nell: Yes. Fortunately the weather held. Count Bingo and his flamingos were a huge hit. Everyone loves a steel drum.
Me: Yes.
Nell: People were dancing the samba in the streets. Quite extraordinary.
Me: Wonderful.
Nell: There was a tense moment when a Beefie tried to get into the cafe disguised as a flamingo.
Me: No?
Nell: As if wearing a pink feather boa was going to convince anyone. I mean the length of its leg was a giveaway, and those mean seagull eyes.
Me: The cheek of it.
Nell: It was after one of Poppy’s scones, of course. Malcolm told it to leave.
Me: Malcolm did?
Nell: Yes. He took off his apron and feathered hat, marched over to the Beefie and said: “You sir, are not a flamingo. Take your beak out of the cream and leave.”
Me: Gosh.
Nell: Everyone clapped. Malcolm bowed and went back to making egg sandwiches.
Me: Did the food go down well?
Nell: Very well. Lessons were learned of course.
Me: In what way?
Nell: Tap dancing needs to be confined. One of the dancing chihuahuas got involved with a bowl of strawberry jam at one point. Fortunately a Dartmouth dachshund was on hand to clean it up.
Me: It sounds like a great success. I wish I could have been there.
Nell: You are always with us you know.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
