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.