Sunday Marmite

Me: Are you and Harriet waiting for the post?

Nell: Of course we aren’t. Tony is on holiday and it’s Sunday. Do keep up.

Me: I just wondered what you were doing in the doorway.

Nell: Harriet and I are listening to Morning Songs of course.

Me: Oh yes. I saw the Welsh corgis arriving earlier. I love their little cardigans.

Nell: Knitwear Wolf likes to make sure they keep warm. It can be chilly first thing in the morning and there’s quite a breeze on the hill.

Me: Yes. I feel sorry for them standing out there alone in the wind. They should be huddled together for warmth.

Nell: It’s summer and they are not alone. And anyway they are a Welsh corgi choir not a herd of sheep. Good grief.

Me: Yes. You’re right. Have you been eating bacon?

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: You just licked your lips which is a sure sign that you’ve eaten something tasty.

Nell: There is no bacon in the house after David’s mistake.

Me: My poor Big Brave Beautiful Boy. He’s so sorry.

Nell: He wasn’t sorry when he ate Harriet’s toast and Marmite.

Me: Oh dear.

Nell: I told her not to leave it there while she went to get a cup of tea but she wouldn’t listen.

Me: He probably thought it was going spare.

Nell: Going spare? It was on her special plate.

Me: Wait a minute. You’ve just eaten Marmite too, haven’t you?

Nell: What do you mean?

Me: You’re licking your lips again. That’s what Marmite does to you.

Nell: I may have had a taste.

Me: Did you share Harriet’s toast with Dave?

Nell: Would you kindly allow us to enjoy the singing? Gladys is about to perform a contemporary dance.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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