Me: There is something irresistible about a sandy nosed dog.

Nell: I was actually making sure Harriet didn’t take the ball.

Me: Yes, she has started running off with it. Little scallywag.

Nell: You do realise she is as tall as me now.

Me: She doesn’t have your curves, though. Although the new you is far less curvy.

Nell: I met Alex the vet on the beach, you know. He was off surfing, or something of that nature. He is very pleased with my weight loss and told me to keep up the good work.

Me: It’s a shame he is leaving at the end of the month but the other vets are very nice too.

Nell: I think Charlie needs to see a vet. I thought we might book him in.

Me: Why?

Nell: I’ve noticed his breathing is laboured. He is only 7 and this shouldn’t be happening.

Me: He might prefer a London vet.

Nell: I would prefer a scone to a carrot but you don’t hear me complaining.

Me: Well, that’s not strictly true, now is it? You were moaning away about no pasta and too many vegetables at dinner last night.

Nell: It was called chicken pasta. It’s not unreasonable to expect to see some in your bowl. One doesn’t order a ham sandwich and expect to find a lonely slice of ham, a slice of tomato and some limp lettuce on one’s plate.

Me: The lettuce doesn’t have to be limp.

Nell: It’s all about expectations. Don’t offer a dog a bone if you are going to give it a biscuit. It would have been happy with a biscuit if you hadn’t mentioned the bone.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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