Me: I love your sandy face, although you are giving me a rather hard stare.

Nell: It’s not just sand. You remember the incident just now with Kev’s cold tea?

Me: Yes. It was quite funny. When I put my empty paper cup into his I didn’t realise his cup still had tea in it and it went all over the picnic table.

Nell: I was under that table.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: I was busy clearing up when I was showered with cold tea. Notice my face.

Me: I do apologise, Nell. Fortunately it’s only a little.

Nell: Easy for you to say.

Me: I’m sure Dave will clean it off. He is ever so good at that. Remember Gladys and the jam?

Nell: Yes. And Harriet and the Parmesan cheese?

Me: And Mutley and the tomato sauce?

Nell: The list is endless. Now, as it is Saturday and the weekend there will be no roofers.

Me: I know. Peace and quiet for two days.

Nell: Apart from choir practice.

Me: Excuse me?

Nell: You know Myfanwy invited Mutley to sing at their next concert? Well, they are rehearsing later.

Me: I didn’t know.

Nell: Don’t worry. They will be gone by 4pm because of the cheerleading Chow Chows.

Me: The what?

Nell: The cheerleading Chow Chows from Chichester. They are down here on holiday and got chatting to David and Gladys at the Quay.

Me: Of course they did.

Nell: To cut a long story short they are coming to tea. Poppy knows. She did a lot of cheerleading in her youth.

Me: Why am I not surprised? Is Dave carrying a Pom Pom?

Nell: No, it’s just Gladys. Easy mistake to make though. I think he left his Pom Poms at home.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: What were you thinking about down at South Milton Sands, Nell?

Nell: Life. Love.

Me: Deep thoughts. The sea does that to me, too.

Nell: And Lettuce.

Me: Lettuce?

Nell: Yes. I don’t see the point of it. Why ruin a perfectly good sandwich?

Me: I really like lettuce. I could eat it every day.

Nell: And don’t get me started on cucumber. Slimy stuff. As for tomatoes.

Me: What brought this on?

Nell: Poppy and I were discussing summer sandwiches and she wondered if she needed to start adding salad.

Me: It’s an idea.

Nell: Well, it’s one I have knocked firmly on the head. Egg and cress is acceptable at a pinch but the minute you start adding salady stuff your sandwiches go soggy.

Me: True. Nobody likes a soggy sandwich.

Nell: You know The Cat suggested edible glitter?

Me: In a sandwich?

Nell: In the bread. It said it will make your sandwich sparkle like the sun on the sea.

Me: I rather like that idea.

Nell: Ridiculous nonsense. We’ll be having sandwiches as fashion accessories next.

Me: How awful. Did you know they were going to choose Archie Harrison, by the way?

Nell: Of course I did. Meghan, Harry and I were in discussion for months.

Me: It’s certainly unusual.

Nell: Harrison means son of Harry and they both love the name Archie. Personally, I think that is a good enough reason for anyone.

Me: I agree.

Nell: Master Archie may not have the title of Prince but that’s what he will be for those who love him.

Me: Just like you are our queen.

Nell: I have no need of a title. I am your Nell and always will be. That’s enough for me.

Me: It’s enough for me, too. Sorry.

Me: Goodness me. You Labradors are tired.

Nell: I think you will find Poppy has joined us for a nap too.

Me: Oh yes. I didn’t see her at the back.

Nell: All this roofing is getting us down. Bang, bang, bang. All day long.

Me: It’s only just started. I must say I am finding writing quite difficult.

Nell: Fortunately we have other things on our minds.

Me: You do?

Nell: Yes. Today is National Lost Sock Day.

Me: You are making it up.

Nell: I am not. It is a day most dogs like to celebrate. There is nothing more enjoyable than a lost sock.

Me: I don’t think Kev would agree with you.

Nell: Yes. He can be a little tetchy.

Me: That’s because you lot keep stealing his socks.

Nell: Stealing is a little harsh. When a sock looks lost a Labrador feels bound to rescue it.

Me: And tear it to pieces. How are you celebrating?

Nell: I’m afraid I can’t tell you but it involves David, Gladys and my handbag.

Me: You haven’t found out where Kev has hidden his socks, have you?

Nell: I couldn’t possibly say.

Me: If you think Dave can throw Gladys up onto the top shelf in your handbag you are very much mistaken.

Nell: I’m sure I am.

Me: And if you think Gladys can hide the socks in your handbag you have got another think coming.

Nell: Works every time.

Me: What does?

Nell: I knew you would come up with answer.

Me: Wait a minute. Where is Dave going with your handbag?

Nell: Nowhere.

Me: Kev will be furious.

Nell: C’est la vie.

Me: It’s not life, Nell. You tricked me into giving it away.

Nell: I am only joking. David is taking Gladys over to The Cat’s for a game of Scrabble. As if we would steal Kev’s socks.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: I’m not sure David’s appointment as Roofing Liaison Officer was the correct decision.

Me: He seems to be taking the job very seriously, though.

Nell: He is certainly taking the distribution and sharing of bacon sandwiches seriously.

Me: He is such a sociable boy.

Nell: He is a greedy boy.

Me: He may have eaten a few too many sandwiches by mistake.

Nell: He spilt brown sauce on his sequinned vest. The Cat has taken it to be cleaned.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: Gladys has already been reprimanded for incorrect footwear.

Me: She hates those boots.

Nell: Who wears stilettos on a building site?

Me: She needs them for the Argentine tango.

Nell: And why does Mutley have to be her partner? He is wearing a moustache and a dinner jacket.

Me: I think he wants to impress Myfanwy.

Nell: But Gladys is having to lead and that up and down rubbing the leg movement makes them look like they have fleas.

Me: It’s part of the dance.

Nell: One of the roofers nearly fell off the scaffolding.

Me: It’s not every day you see a Patterdale and a Pomeranian doing an Argentine tango.

Nell: We definitely don’t need a Welsh corgi choir. They aren’t even vaguely Argentinian and they keep knitting in between songs. There is wool everywhere.

Me: I think it was Myfanwy’s idea, to be fair.

Nell: The only good thing is, it is making Charlie laugh.

Me: That is a very good thing.

Nell: Anyway, would you kindly ask the Roofing Liaison Officer to return my handbag?

Me: That’s an awfully unusual object for a roofer to take. Are you sure you aren’t mistaken?

Nell: It’s not a roofer, it’s David. Do keep up.

Me: Oh yes, I forgot.

Nell: Please tell me the Whippets Institute didn’t just arrive in their minibus?

Me: I’m afraid they did. Sorry.

Nell: It’s Kev with baby Harriet.

Me: Yes. All this talk of babies made me look through the old photos. How cute was she?

Nell: Harriet has immense charm.

Me: Kev fell in love with her the moment he saw her.

Nell: It was mutual.

Me: What do you think about the royal baby?

Nell: I am delighted for them both. Meghan and I have been in touch this morning. She and Baby Sussex are doing well.

Me: Any ideas about his name?

Nell: My lips are sealed. You will find out soon enough.

Me: What does everyone else think?

Nell: David is sure he is going to be called Dave which is clearly ridiculous.

Me: It is unlikely, as is Malcolm, or Timothy.

Nell: And Mutley is definitely off the cards.

Me: What about Charlie and Jim?

Nell: Yes. James and Charles have history behind them.

Me: I’m afraid Kev isn’t likely either.

Nell: No, and I’ve told Count Bingo it’s never happening.

Me: It’s so exciting and granddaughter Baby Snail is due on 28th May too.

Nell: I shall be glad when she isn’t called Snail.

Me: It’s from that lovely children’s book ‘The Snail and the Whale’.

Nell: I am aware. I feel Nell might be a possibility but Gladys is a definite no.

Me: Yes.

Nell: On another note I am able to inform you that the roofing has started.

Me: Finally.

Nell: We are now living on a building site. You will also be pleased to hear that we are having a Health and Safety meeting on your return.

Me: I’m not that pleased, to be honest, Nell. I might be a bit tired after all the travelling.

Nell: Nonsense. You can never be too tired to discuss the importance of a hard hat and a sequinned vest. Now hurry home.

Me: Yes, of course. Sorry.

Me: Look at your cousins Boo, Seamus and Naughty Nigel in the bluebell wood.

Nell: Yes. You appear to be enjoying yourselves in leafy Buckinghamshire.

Me: We had a lovely time on our walk. The countryside is looking particularly beautiful at this time of year.

Nell: No sea there, of course. No beaches to walk along.

Me: I know. Is everything ok at home?

Nell: Mutley has an admirer.

Me: Really?

Nell: Yes. Someone left a bowl of cockles and a hunk of black bread on the doorstep this morning with a card saying ‘For lovely Mutley’.

Me: That will be laverbread. It’s made from seaweed. It’s ever so popular in Wales.

Nell: Exactly.

Me: What do you mean?

Nell: A round corgi in a lace neckerchief and a tall hat was seen leaving the area with an empty basket.

Me: Probably collecting for charity.

Nell: No. Her basket was empty.

Me: Oh dear. Not one donation?

Nell: No. It was a delivery.

Me: Impressive. On a Bank Holiday.

Nell: For Mutley.

Me: Oh, I see. I wonder who it is.

Nell: We suspect Myfanwy. Her head is easily turned.

Me: Have you tried the laverbread?

Nell: Certainly not. We have more than enough seaweed in our lives without having to eat the stuff.

Me: What about Mutley?

Nell: He is having the cockles for tea and says Myfanwy is welcome to join him for quiet conversation but he can promise nothing more.

Me: Well, he is of a certain age now.

Nell: That’s not it. His heart belongs to Maggie, a beautiful American Shih Tzu from Pennsylvania.

Me: I never knew. By the way, I’m coming home tomorrow afternoon. Do you think you can collect me?

Nell: Now you tell me. I’ll have to change my hair appointment. Needs must I suppose.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Don’t look at me like that. I feel awful.

Nell: Why do you have to go away again?

Me: I’m visiting my sister Charlotte. She is alone this Bank Holiday weekend.

Nell: All I wanted to do was rest my paws after all the excitement. Instead I have to trek across Devon to take you to the station.

Me: It’s only half an hour away, Nell.

Nell: You are going to miss the celebratory afternoon tea.

Me: I know.

Nell: You realise we made the headlines in the Sunday Growl and Barking Weekly.

Me: I’m not surprised. It was an amazing performance. The way Mutley flew down from the roof singing.

Nell: Mutley wasn’t meant to fly. The Beefies hit him with a mackerel and he lost his footing. Fortunately David managed to lower him down gently on his safety rope.

Me: Gladys and the chihuahuas covered it really well with their impromptu contemporary dance to ‘America’.

Nell: Yes, although it was all a little chaotic. Especially when the Welsh corgis launched into ‘I Feel Pretty’.

Me: Mutley wasn’t singing either of those songs.

Nell: No. He was singing ‘My Way’. It’s his default song in times of crisis.

Me: I don’t think anyone noticed.

Nell: The headline says ‘Mutley and the Martins do it Their Way’ so I rather think they did.

Me: Never mind. The audience went wild.

Nell: No wonder. They were being pelted with mackerel. Fortunately there were a number of flamingos and the odd heron who took it in their stride.

Me: How did they get past Owl Pacino?

Nell: Malcolm was on the door and they tied him up with an octopus. By the time he was released the Beefies had got through.

Me: Gosh. At least he wasn’t squidnapped.

Nell: Stop. You have a train to catch. Give our love to Charlotte.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Me: Why is Harriet at the top of the stairs?

Nell: It’s an inside rehearsal. She is waiting for her entrance Didn’t you notice Jim the Farm Dog singing ‘Maria’?

Me: I did wonder.

Nell: And the choir of Welsh corgis in the kitchen?

Me: They were eating toast and marmalade.

Nell: Everyone needs a little breakfast. I’m glad Myfanwy is back.

Me: Where was she?

Nell: Her head was turned by a dashing white sergeant from the West Highland Terriers.

Me: Gosh.

Nell: They eloped but it was such a long way to Gretna Green that she changed her mind half way there and came home.

Me: Probably wise.

Nell: Did you see any dancing chihuahuas?

Me: Yes. Poppy is making them pancakes.

Nell: Good. David ate the first batch by mistake.

Me: You can’t eat a pancake by mistake, Nell.

Nell: David can. Remember the muffins?

Me: True.

Nell: Dress rehearsal is at 12pm and the performance at 5pm. Just time for a light lunch in between.

Me: Good idea.

Nell: Poppy was thinking soup but I pointed out the danger of spillage so we have gone for sandwiches.

Me: Crusts off?

Nell: Of course. We have standards.

Me: A mini bus just arrived.

Nell: That will be the Whippets Institute. Keep them away from the Welsh corgis. We don’t want skirt envy again.

Me: Why can’t the corgis have skirts,too?

Nell: The Cat says corgis aren’t made for skirts. They have lace neckerchiefs and sequinned Welsh hats.

Me: It’s not very West Side Story, is it?

Nell: Please tell me Mutley isn’t dressed as a Jet. His hearing has gone and he can hardly walk.

Me: But he can still sing.

Nell: He’s on the scaffolding again, isn’t he?

Me: Yes, but wearing a safety rope. Sorry.

Me: I’m glad Mutley joined you on your walk today.

Nell: He likes to potter around in the meadow. The grass is particularly soft underpaw at this time of year.

Me: Yes, and the smell of Spring is in the air.

Nell: The smell of cows and sheep you mean. We saw a couple of Beefies in wigs with fish in their beaks but we paid them no attention.

Me: I wonder what they are up to. We can’t have them sabotaging West Side Story.

Nell: Owl Pacino has agreed to patrol the area during the performance tomorrow in case of a mackerel attack.

Me: He’s a good egg.

Nell: He is not an egg. What is the matter with you? He is a professional fighter. Interestingly, he and Malcolm have been getting on rather well recently. Malcolm is keen to learn.

Me: Malcolm is never going to join the owl patrols, Nell. He is a flamingo and the wrong shape for a start, and he is awfully shy and polite.

Nell: Of course he isn’t. Malcolm just enjoys Owl Pacino’s company. It wouldn’t surprise me if Malcolm chooses him as his best man.

Me: But Dave thinks he is going to be chosen.

Nell: So does Count Bingo and Timothy is certain that he is the one. Even Mutley said he would be willing if Malcolm would prefer a more mature candidate.

Me: Poor Malcolm. So many choices.

Nell: Not at all. It is always good to have choices. You just need to choose wisely.

Me: Yes. I chose wisely when I chose you all those years ago.

Nell: Now, don’t be silly, we both know that I was the one who chose you.

Me: Anyway, we made a good choice that day, Nell.

Nell: Yes, we did and Malcolm will too. Just give him time.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

Nell: The Daily Growl are interviewing David this afternoon so he is practising his film star face.

Me: Why?

Nell: They have heard about the reprise of his West Side Story performance as Bernardo.

Me: Heartthrob David Martin. Wasn’t that the headline last time?

Nell: Exactly. In the meantime we have other more pressing issues to deal with. Those wretched Beefies have started pelting the cast with sticks and mackerel.

Me: How rude.

Nell: There has also been a major falling out between the Welsh corgi choir and the Whippets Institute.

Me: Oh no.

Nell: Apparently the Welsh corgis were desperate to join Gladys and the chihuahuas in their performance of ‘America’ but they couldn’t negotiate the scaffolding.

Me: Well, they only have little legs.

Nell: Then the Whippets Institute arrived in their mini bus and leapt up the scaffolding like a herd of mountain goats.

Me: They do have long slim legs.

Nell: So while the WI frolicked on the scaffolding in swirly skirts the corgis were left skirtless on the ground.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: Fortunately Harriet arrived with fresh balls of wool for their knitting and asked if they would accompany her, Susan and the sweet natured seagulls on their rendition of ‘I Feel Pretty’.

Me: Well done, Harriet.

Nell: It was touch and go for a while.

Me: Knitting needles at dawn, eh?

Nell: Do not mock. Feelings run deep and a disappointed corgi is not to be underestimated.

Me: When is the performance?

Nell: Saturday. All proceeds are going towards the new roof.

Me: I can’t wait.

Nell: Please tell me David isn’t throwing chihuahuas off the scaffolding into my handbag.

Me: Only from the lower part. He’s up to four now.

Nell: I need a cup of Earl Grey and an early scone.

Me: Yes. Sorry.