Me: Pamela is on the phone.
Nell: Tell her to ring back. I’m resting my eyes.
Me: She sounded agitated.
Nell: Good grief. Give me the phone. ‘Yes, dear. Calm down. He did what? I’ll see what I can do. Talk later.’
Me: What happened?
Nell: It seems the Book a Beefy service is a little hit and miss. With the emphasis on hit in this case.
Me: What do you mean?
Nell: After yesterday’s delightful experience with Terry, Pamela decided to Book a Beefy herself.
Me: Oh dear.
Nell: Her designated delivery Beefy was called Squawk, which should have alerted her at once to be honest.
Me: Was Squawk not up to standard?
Nell: He arrived in a peaked cap with a ring through his beak.
Me: He was probably part of a survey. They ring birds to keep an eye on their habits.
Nell: No. This was a fashion statement.
Me: Each to their own, I suppose.
Nell: Anyway, Pamela wanted to send her friend Dorothy a scarf as she’s been feeling the cold lately. So she packed it up nicely in a little parcel.
Me: Is that Dorothy the red setter?
Nell: Yes, she’s one of the Salcombe setters, but that’s not the point.
Nell: When Dorothy opened her door, Squawk was wearing the scarf and he threw a mackerel at her.
Me: How rude.
Nell: Dorothy squealed in shock.
Me: I don’t blame her. Nobody likes a wet mackerel in the face.
Me: What happened then?
Nell: Squawk said, ‘This is from Pamela’, and threw the scarf at her before flying away.
Me: Well, at least it was delivered.
Nell: It was wet and fishy and gave Dorothy completely the wrong impression. It was supposed to be a gift.
Me: Yes. Sorry.