Nell: David is guarding Poppy’s Palace.
Me: Why?
Nell: She was hit by a mackerel first thing this morning.
Me: Oh no. Is she okay?
Nell: A little shocked. One doesn’t expect mackerel on a Sunday.
Me: Poor Poppy.
Nell: David insisted on helping her with breakfast and now they’re both resting.
Me: When you say helping do you mean cooking?
Nell: No. David excels at Clearing the Plates.
Me: Before or after the food has been eaten?
Nell: It’s a little hit and miss.
Me: He’s a Big Brave Beautiful Boy but I’m afraid a diet may be on the cards. I’m going to suggest salad for lunch.
Nell: On a Sunday? Have you taken leave of your senses? Sundays are roast days.
Me: It was just a thought.
Nell: We’ve already got fish coming out of our ears. In Poppy’s case literally. Allow us a little pleasure.
Me: Talking of pleasure it’s good to have Strictly back, isn’t it?
Nell: Yes, although watching it with Gladys is rather tiring as she insists on performing.
Me: Alejandro seemed happy to join in.
Nell: Yes, but not everyone wants a Pomeranian and an alpaca dancing the Viennese Waltz round the living room. It’s dangerous.
Me: Where are they, by the way?
Nell: Alejandro is giving Malcolm his Spanish lessons. I don’t know where Gladys is, but my handbag is missing.
Me: I saw Knitwear Wolf carrying it just now. I think he put it in his sidecar.
Nell: Well, go and stop him. I can’t have a wolf waltzing off with my handbag.
Me: He wasn’t waltzing. It was more of a foxtrot. Not something you expect from a wolf, to be honest, but he’s very light on his feet.
Nell: Just get my handbag back, please.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
