Me: Where is Poppy?
Nell: Resting with Harriet in the studio. She needs some quiet after the jousting yesterday so Malcolm is preparing breakfast.
Me: Full English?
Nell: No. Smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. Poppy’s favourite.
Me: I never thought anyone would beat Poppy but Gladys unseated her.
Nell: David was a little too fast. More of a gallop than a trot.
Me: Yes. Alejandro was more controlled.
Nell: He has hooves, of course.
Me: Yes, and riding an alpaca seems to be easier than riding a Labrador. Not that I’ve ever tried.
Nell: The mere thought.
Me: And Poppy was riding bareback. In a full suit of armour.
Nell: Yes. David refused to be saddled. He said it was too restricting.
Me: I don’t blame him. Gladys is freakishly strong for a small dog. She was twirling that lance like a cheerleader.
Nell: Yes. Most disconcerting.
Me: Those tall medieval hats suited the Welsh corgi choir.
Nell: Yes. Myfanwy had a few problems with her veil but fortunately one of the Whippets Institute had a safety pin.
Me: I didn’t know they were coming.
Nell: They never miss the chance of a cream tea.
Me: The Cat made an excellent Robin Hood. Those tights.
Nell: A little over the top for my taste. I’m sure Robin never wore sequins.
Me: Shall we have a quiet day today, Nell?
Nell: Yes. The Sunday papers after breakfast I think and The Archers Omnibus with our elevenses.
Me: Sounds perfect.
Nell: What’s that dreadful noise?
Me: Alejandro appears to be playing the banjo.
Nell: Don’t be ridiculous.
Me: I know it’s an unlikely thing for an alpaca to be doing but it’s true. Look.
Nell: It’s not a banjo. It’s a lute. Do try and get your instruments right.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
