Poppy Sings

Me: Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting Poppy to break into song like that.

Nell: Nobody was. She can’t even sing.

Me: She seemed to be enjoying herself enormously.

Nell: The Welsh Corgi Choir were stunned into complete silence.

Me: I know. Even the llamas stopped cartwheeling.

Nell: And that never happens.

Me: No. Not often, anyway.

Nell: You’re not supposed to Suddenly Sing at Sunday Songs. There’s a running order.

Me: I don’t think Poppy cares about things like running orders. She’s more of a spontaneous sort of animal.

Nell: And why was David snorting?

Me: I think he was actually beatboxing.

Nell: It sounded like he had something stuck in his throat.

Me: Poppy seemed ever so pleased with herself after it was over.

Nell: We were all pleased that it was over.

Me: That’s not what I meant.

Nell: At least she wasn’t wearing that threatening hat.

Me: I don’t think her hat is threatening. It’s rather sweet.

Nell: It’s not suitable for a Sunday.

Me: Do you think I should wear a hat to afternoon tea with my sisters?

Nell: I beg your pardon?

Me: Chris got me a voucher for afternoon tea at the Thurlestone Hotel for Mothers Day so I’m using it today.

Nell: And what about me?

Me: No dogs are allowed in the dining room, I’m afraid.

Nell: Sit outside then.

Me: The forecast is for rain, Nell.

Nell: I am most disappointed in you.

Me: I’ll bring you back a scone, or a piece of cake.

Nell: Don’t bother. I’ll be fine in my lonely hat with a cup of Earl Grey and a stale biscuit.

Me: Stop exaggerating. Biscuits never get stale in this house. Poppy wouldn’t allow it and we have Dave.

Nell: That’s not the point.

Me: No. Sorry.

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