Me: Don’t tell me that’s Gladys.
Nell: Of course it isn’t Gladys. It’s four times her size at least. It’s Dog Marley.
Me: I was worried for a moment.
Nell: He wants to be in the pantomime.
Me: As what? The horse?
Nell: No. The Prince.
Me: Jim the Farm Dog is the Prince.
Nell: Since Harriet became a Rastafarian they haven’t been getting on. He doesn’t like reggae.
Me: I’m not sure Dog Marley is my idea of Prince Charming.
Nell: He certainly isn’t. He looks like a giant mop and I can’t understand a word he says.
Me: That’s a bit harsh, Nell.
Nell: He keeps saying “Wah Gwaan”.
Me: That’s just a friendly greeting. You need to answer with “Mi deh yah” and he will be happy.
Nell: I am doing no such thing.
Me: Jeezum pees. Keep your hair on.
Nell: This is not a laughing matter.
Me: I haven’t seen Gladys, or Dave, this morning.
Nell: No. David and The Cat have taken her to see Doug the hairdresser. She caught her dreadlocks in the zip of my handbag and couldn’t get out.
Me: Oh dear.
Nell: The Cat said she can’t play Buttons with dreadlocks as the risk of entanglement is too great. So the dreadlocks have to go.
Me: Poor Gladys. Hair today, gone tomorrow.
Nell: Not funny.