Me: I’ve been thinking.
Nell: Here we go.
Me: It was beautiful on our walk yesterday, wasn’t it?
Nell: Yes, it was.
Me: Everything seems so precious at the moment, doesn’t it?
Nell: It does.
Me: The trees, the grass, the birds.
Nell: Not all the birds.
Me: Yes, even the Beefies. I quite enjoy hearing them. They remind me of the sea.
Nell: I wish they would stop shouting ‘Chips’.
Me: Chips?
Nell: Yes. It’s extremely tedious.
Me: Why chips?
Nell: They’ve closed all the fish and chip shops, restaurants and cafes. Beefies live from stealing but now all the tourists have been told to stay home to keep us safe.
Me: They must be starving.
Nell: They can catch fish like everyone else. Lazy hooligans.
Me: You don’t catch fish. You had boiled eggs and soldiers for breakfast and Poppy is cooking a Sunday roast.
Nell. I am not a seabird.
Me: I’ve just had an interesting thought.
Nell: Oh dear.
Me: Do you think the Beefies in the US and Canada are shouting ‘Fries’?
Nell: Good grief.
Me: Or ‘Pommes’ in Germany and ‘Frites’ in France?
Nell: The Beefies are an evil seagull gang run by Stephen Seagull. They are not an international organisation.
Me: How do you know? They might be bigger than you think. There might be a whole Beefy network.
Nell: I hope not. The Black Claw is more than enough to deal with, thank you.
Me: Have there been any reports on animals turning bad then?
Nell: Joyce told me there’s been some bickering amongst the Welsh corgi choir but nothing else.
Me: Do you think The Hunter has infiltrated the Welsh corgi choir?
Nell: No. I think the lockdown is making them feel a little agitated. Do calm down.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
