Extraordinary behaviour

Me: Is Harriet feeling a little worse for wear this morning?

Nell: She and Jim went on a double date with Sally and David. They came home very giggly.

Me: Bless them.

Nell: Poppy is cooking a large Sunday fry up. Sausages, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms. Malcolm is in charge of eggs. He does an excellent poached egg.

Me: Yes, it must be a bird thing.

Nell: I have never heard such nonsense in my life. Malcolm has great dedication and a skilled beak. It is not a bird thing at all. Can you imagine Count Bingo Flamingo cooking eggs? Or a Beefy?

Me: I would rather not.

Nell: Exactly.

Me: Where did they all go last night?

Nell: There’s a new jazz club in Kingsbridge. A rather talented American stallion runs it. Gregory Snorter. You might have heard of him. Always wears an all concealing hat for some reason.

Me: Like me?

Nell: Not even remotely like you.

Me: Oh.

Nell: He has a wonderful voice and a charming manner. I think he’s an old friend of Knitwear Wolf’s.

Me: Well, Knitwear Wolf has a lovely voice too.

Nell: Talking of lovely voices, did you hear Myfanwy’s solo at Morning Songs?

Me: No, I didn’t.

Nell: She sang ‘Honey, Honey’, an ABBA song and highly inappropriate for a Sunday morning. I was expecting carols.

Me: I love it.

Nell: Gladys and Alejandro were dancing around the house and the Welsh corgi choir joined in with great enthusiasm. Waving paws and performing pirouettes. Extraordinary behaviour.

Me: I wish I’d seen it.

Nell: Myfanwy was singing to Rupert, of course.

Me: Do you think he knows?

Nell: He has no idea. Where is David going with those sausages?

Me: The dining room?

Nell: It’s not upstairs. Stop him.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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