Me: Can you explain the burying the ball in the sand thing?
Nell: Context, please.
Me: Harriet loves chasing her ball into the sea but then she brings it back and rolls it in the sand.
Nell: Of course she does.
Me: Why? It must be dreadfully sandy.
Nell: That’s the whole idea of a Beach Experience.
Me: A Beach Experience?
Nell: Sea and Sand. I would say Sun but we live in the UK so that can never be guaranteed.
Me: You don’t need the sand in your mouth.
Nell: Don’t you?
Me: No.
Nell: Isn’t one of your favourite childhood memories enjoying your mother’s tomato sandwiches all squished and warm and sandy on a Devon beach?
Me: It is.
Nell: Substitute a tennis ball for the sandwich and you’ll understand.
Me: It’s not quite the same.
Nell: It’s near enough. Aren’t those famous chefs you love watching always telling you to add texture?
Me: Yes, but not sand.
Nell: Ever heard of chocolate soil?
Me: Of course I have.
Nell: Harriet adds Devon sand.
Me: That sort of makes sense.
Nell; And don’t you always say finding sand in your shoes takes you straight back to a memory of the beach?
Me: Yes, I do.
Nell: It’s the same for us with a ball.
Me: So Harriet is making memories?
Nell: Yes. We all are. Every day.
Me: I see.
Nell: Memories are like jewels. We take them out and treasure them when we are in need of comfort.
Me: I’m not all that fussed about jewels. Give me one of my mother’s sandy tomato sandwiches any day.
Nell: Which is exactly what I mean and you know it.
Me: How did you get to be so wise, Nell?
Nell: Years of looking after you.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
