Me: Oh Nell. You look like you have the cares of the world on your shoulders.
Nell: I think the events of the past few weeks are finally catching up with me.
Me: I’m not helping.
Nell: At least you are talking to a doctor today.
Me: Yes, I’m sure I will improve soon.
Nell: Did you cancel Sophie the hairdresser?
Me: Yes, and the dentist. And Kev cancelled Chloe.
Nell: We can’t be putting Chloe at risk. My hydrotherapy can wait until next week.
Me: Yes, I’m sure everything will look a lot brighter then.
Nell: It had better. There is only so much one can take. Even a sensible grounded animal like myself.
Me: How is Dave?
Nell: Rupert has taken him fishing. Poppy has made them a picnic of ham sandwiches and lemon drizzle cake with a flask of tea each and some scones for later.
Me: Crusts off?
Nell: Of course not. Rupert and David need a substantial sandwich. Freshly baked crunchy white bread with lashings of butter and thickly cut ham.
Me: Delicious. I wish I could taste again.
Nell: Just give yourself time. Poppy has made you leek and potato soup.
Me: Now, that’s odd.
Me: Aren’t there usually three llamas?
Nell: Yes. Why?
Me: There seem to be four in the field and one of them is wearing a wig.
Nell: Don’t be ridiculous. It’s probably Alejandro. Alpacas are constantly being mistaken for llamas.
Me: It’s not a very good dancer, and who needs a cloak in this weather?
Nell: Did you say cloak?
Me: Yes, a long black velvet cloak with an attractive hood.
Nell: That’s not a wig. It’s a mane. It’s Lionel. Sound the alarm.
Me: We don’t have one.
Nell: Just shout then. Good grief.