Sunday Reflections

Me: Is Dave outside on his lounger listening to Sunday Songs?

Nell: Yes. David is having a Reflective Day.

Me: Any particular reason why?

Nell: Sunday is a day for Reflection. You know that.

Me: Yes, I suppose it is. I wonder what he’s reflecting on, though.

Nell: Poppy’s Sunday roast I should imagine.

Me: I don’t blame him. I’m glad she’s still doing one.

Nell: Why wouldn’t she?

Me: Doesn’t her Anger Management course start tomorrow?

Nell: What’s that got to do with cooking a Sunday roast?

Me: I thought she and Malcolm might be busy preparing.

Nell: They’re busy preparing the vegetables, if that’s what you mean. Tony brought us some runner beans freshly picked from his garden.

Me: How lovely. No, I meant they might be practising being angry with each other.

Nell: I worry about you sometimes. First of all Sundays are not at all about anger and secondly it’s about managing your anger not getting yourself into a fury.

Me: Yes, but if you go there all meek and mild they’ll have nothing to work with.

Nell: I wouldn’t worry. Poppy wears a very short lead. She is easily riled.

Me: Don’t you mean she has a very short fuse?

Nell: No.

Me: She’s not really taking her sword, is she?

Nell: She wanted to, but all weapons have to be left at the door, so there’s no point.

Me: That’s a relief.

Nell: What is Gladys doing?

Me: It’s just a contemporary dance, Nell. Princess is loving it.

Nell: It’s not appropriate for Sunday Songs. Now the llamas have joined in.

Me: I love it when the Welsh corgi choir do that paws over the head thing.

Nell: It’s called waving. One of the llamas has cartwheeled into the pond.

Me: Oh yes. Sorry.

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