Me: What on earth is Dave doing?
Nell: Looking for Beefies. We’re trying to have our morning discussion and they are being annoying.
Me: Why is he opening his mouth so wide?
Nell: To catch mackerel of course. He’s caught three already.
Me: It’s an awful waste of fish.
Nell: Not always. Poppy checks them for freshness and if they’re acceptable she makes mackerel pate for the Farm Dogs. They love it on toast with a squeeze of lemon.
Me: Has everyone recovered from yesterday’s battle?
Nell: Yes. Malcolm was quite the hero. When Rock threw that crab at him I thought he was in trouble but he swung his baguette and…
Me: Scored a six?
Nell: It was not a game of cricket.
Me: A home run then?
Nell: Enough. He batted it away in a fearless manner hitting a Beefy in the process. Count Bingo is thinking of giving him a medal.
Me: Gosh.
Nell: There have been a few injuries. Gladys is on crutches after a mistimed high kick. Fortunately it’s only a sprain.
Me: Crumbs.
Nell: Yes. There were a lot of those. Apparently Romeo says his heart is broken and there’s no other seagull like Susan.
Me: Malcolm would agree.
Nell: He is even considering giving up the black wig.
Me: Well, he is a seagull, Nell. Wearing a wig is a bit odd, to be honest.
Nell: But it’s his trademark. It makes him stand out. Susan actually likes it.
Me: You don’t think Malcolm is going to wear a long black wig do you?
Nell: What are you talking about?
Me: Only, with his pink feathers and little glasses it’s going to look all wrong.
Nell: I worry about you sometimes. I really do. Malcolm in a wig? Whatever next?
Me: Yes. Sorry.
